#between this children falling apart and becoming what they suffered and them becoming stronger and able to live free

[council-of-beetroot]

I'm currently reading Frankenstein in my uni novels and Film class and I'm so glad that I'm not the only one

I was thinking ooh someone created through hubris by a man who believes they can emulate G-D and therefore create much more, but their creator and the world denies them the love and compassion G-D shows to humanity, they learn to believe that perhaps the distain, apathy, and rejection, are justified, they aren't human. they are much more perhaps. And they also decide fuck humanity for being assholes.

And then I was like omg this is so like sephi <3

Sephiroth was denied his humanity so consistently that the moment he saw a sliver of a possibility to justify his separation from it in a way that put him above humanity instead of below, he took it, and decided to become humanity's victimizer instead of it's victim

[raggaraddy]

Intruders.

Request from @dramaclub-thin: Mafia BTS where the reader is shot for/because of them.

A/N: Another long one. This one doesn't have so much of the worried reaction, cause I wrote it to fit the Mafia! Jungkook character. It's still fun though ^-^ Thanks again for the request. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Yoongi

Jimin

Taehyung

Summary: When a loose end breaks into Jungkooks house with guns drawn, you get a first-hand lesson that maybe Jungkook isn't as invulnerable as you had thought.

Trigger Warnings: Graphic violence, gun usage, blood, murder.

Jungkook

Mafia! Jungkook

Fighting to get free, you're kicking your legs. Squirming. Squealing as you shove your hands against Jungkook's chest, pushing him back as hard as you can. Tears starting to fill your eye line.

"Stop, stop, stop," you shout, with no effect. Struggling harder.

"Admit it!" He yells back, a smile on his face.

"Never," You scream. Not able to hold it back anymore. Your screech morphs into forceful laughter as Jungkook continues to tickle you. Your cheeks aching from how widely you're smiling. Your sides hurting as you keep thrashing for release.

"Admit I could beat up the Hulk, and I'll let you go." He insists again, pressing you down with a massive grin.

"Okay, okay!" You squeal, finally conceding. Groaning in relief, when his fingers stop tickling your stomach. Your limbs dropping down to rest. "You could totally kick the Hulk's ass." You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

"Damn right I could!" He bursts into laughter also. Easing back with a sigh now that he no longer has to hold you still. Neither of you phased by the movie that started the debate still blaring in the background.

Roughly you punch your fist into his chest, intentionally knocking the air out of him. Taking advantage while he is caught off guard to push him flat onto the carpet beside you. Straddling his lap, you lean over him pinning his arms to the floor before he has a chance to argue. Not that you think he would. The fun-filled smile doesn't leave his face for a moment. Completely amused by you, while you try your best to put on an intimidating act. Trying to stop yourself from smiling again.

"Jeon Jungkook. You cheated." You playfully scold, "And if you can't have a grown-up discussion, then you can't do other grown-up things either." You accentuate your point by grinding down. Feeling his hips push up as you tease him. Lifting up right away, shaking your head as you remove the contact. "Nah uh. Cheaters don't get that." You smirk.

"Don't be mean just cause I won." He runs his tongue inside his cheek. His gaze showing desire and a want for you to continue. But you're not done toying with him.

"You didn't win." You poke your tongue out, rocking your hips a single time more, "Confessions under duress are not admissible anyway."

"No, but it's good leverage to have." He answers a little too honestly and without thinking. Not entirely talking about your play fight anymore.

Chuckling awkwardly, you shake off the train of thought that wants to evaluate what he just said. Not wanting to let your mind remember that part of him right now. Trying instead, to return to your spirited banter. But he gets in before you.

"Nope," He easily breaks out and overpowers your hold wrapping his arm around your waist, carrying you as he stands up. "you admitted I'm stronger than the Hulk, and I'm never gonna let that go." Bending down, he throws you over his shoulder, slapping your ass to tease you back.

His shoulder digging into your gut stops you from taking a full breath or making a snippy comeback. So you slap his ass in retaliation instead.

"Come on Kitten, you have to give me a prize for winning." He purs suggestively, carrying you out of the living room into the foyer.

He's going to take you upstairs, but you don't make it to them before both of your heads snap towards the entrance. A flurry of gunshots exploding just beyond the front door. The commotion silencing as quickly as it started.

Jungkook slings you off his shoulder. Becoming another person in an instant. Purely focused. Opening the coat closet, he pulls a Glock from his jacket.

"Get upstairs, now." He barks.

You don't have to be asked twice, running to the stairs. Gasping as the garage door next to the steps opens, two hooded men storming in with guns drawn. Jungkook reacts quickly, firing past you. Shooting one of them, missing the second who ducks instead of firing back.

At the same time, blowing open to the left of you, the front door is kicked in. Swinging wide, four more masked men rush the house. Firing rapidly and wildly. Scarcely missing Jungkook who is moving preemptively and is 3 steps ahead. Running forward he shoots the second man in front of you. Grabbing your arm, dragging you over their dead bodies into the garage with him.

Shutting you in just as bullets explode through the wood door at your back.

Jungkook forces you to keep up, throwing you behind the car. The automatic shots continuing to decimate. The four-wheel-drive being the only thing that keeps either of you from getting shot.

Panting and on the verge of tears, you're crouched beside Jungkook. Watching him, waiting to react to anything he says. Knowing he is all that stands between you and death. But also knowing that with him in this mindset he could do just as much damage to you as one of those other men might.

The gunfire stops. Distorted voices shouting behind the door's remains. Jungkook cautiously raises up, leaning over the hood. He lines up a shot as the door opens warily, taking down another of them. Slouching behind the car as a new wave of bullets comes in response.

In front of you, the shelves covered in storage boxes and the workbench full of tools is ripped to shreds. Things erupting in every direction. Covering you in debris.

Pulling his phone from his pocket he shoves it in your lap.

"Call the first number!"

Your brain is stalling, your hands are shaking, but you follow the order as best as you can. The way your fingers are vibrating making it so much harder.

"What's up Boss?" You can hear the faint sound of his first lieutenant, as the firing ceasing again. Jungkook snatches the phone, speaking lowly and calmly.

"My house is breached and we're under fire. At least 3 guys. Semi-autos. We're held up in the garage and I've got maybe 15 rounds left." He passes the information over precisely. Remaining organized and in control.

"We're 10 out," the first confirms back, yelling orders to people on his end of the phone.

Your head jolts towards the garage door as it heavily clunks, starting to lift along the tracks. Exposing you on two sides.

"Fuck," Jungkook exclaims. "We don't have 10 minutes."

He stands, staying low. Opening the car door, tossing the phone in, followed by you. Your limbs hitting everything as you try to keep up with his pace. Making it onto the seat in an awkward heap.

"Stay down," he growls, slamming it, sealing you in. You're ahead of him this time, already kneeling under the steering wheel. Pressing your chest and head into the seat as flat as possible.

Inside the car, you can only hear the sounds of blasts for a few moments. Heavy things being thrown in every direction amid tense silences.

Outside the car, Jungkook fires off 3 shots, aiming for the legs he sees as the garage opens. The angle is wrong, and he doesn't hit them. Having to retreat back. Throwing the workbench down, using it as a meagre form of barricade. Blocking himself into the corner, hunched behind it. It's barely wide enough to protect him at the front and on the side. The height of the desk only just covering his head. He aims over the bench, hoping to keep the front two from coming in with suppression fire.

However, his attempt is unsuccessful. As he raises up, a bullet wings his right arm. Involuntarily dropping his gun, he shouts in pain. The Glock falling on the wrong side of the table.

It only takes him a second to compose himself, lunging over to pick up the weapon. But it's a second too late.

One of the men charges from inside the house. Booting the table into Jungkook, throwing him off balance. Holding him at gunpoint as he hits the floor.

Briefly, you see the other two men through the window as they pass the car. You're too terrified to move. Your hand cupped over your mouth, muffling the panicked breathes and whimpers that you can't hold in.

Working as a unit, one of the men clears the table out of the way, another picks up Jungkook's gun, while the third ushers him out of the corner and onto his feet, keeping the sights tightly fixed on him.

Getting in his face, the lead man removes his balaclava. Seething hate filling his expression. "You remember me?"

While he isn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Jungkook is certainly perturbed by the reveal.

It was nearly 5 months ago that he had ordered this man and his family killed. It drew far too much attention when he refused a deal Jungkook made him. So an example has to be set. The man's wife, two children and his visiting brother were murdered in the gruesome display. And Jungkook was told that the man standing in front of him now was also killed. But it seems the men charged with the hit got complacent. They didn't confirm the kill.

Mentally, Jungkook was already recalling the four men on task. If he made it out of this they were going to suffer greatly for their mistake.

Seeming infuriated by Jungkook's lack of fear and stoic glowering, the unmasked man slams his fist into the Mafia King's face. Shouting as he does.

Methodically, the three intruders begin to tear Jungkook apart. He put's up a fight as best as he can, but the men are trained and three against one isn't fair odds in this situation. Knocking him between them, they strike with their knees, fists, feet, hurting him in any way they can manage. Beating him into the ground. Pulling him back onto his knees whenever he drops back or falls forward.

Biting your palm you're trying to stop yourself from crying out as you sob into your hand. You can hear the hits. The thumps from him being tossed around. His groans of pain. The slough of abuse they spit at him while they work him over. Cursing him. Mocking him.

Suddenly, the car door jerks open. One of the masked men dragging you out by your hair. Making you produce an ear-shattering scream. One he silences with a fist to the face. Your body collapsing, slapping into the concrete.

Groaning in pain, your sobs can no longer be restrained. Loudly bawling, tear stream your face, hardly able to breathe as you panic.

Your heart aching as you see Jungkook across from you. Hunched over on his knees, he's gushing blood. It's running down his face. Matting his hair to his forehead with the sheer volume of it. He's splitting it up, his mouth dripping with it. His shirt soaked in it. Flowing down his arm from the bullet wound also.

You'd never have thought you would see your Boyfriend in such a state. You've witnessed first-hand the power he has when he's the one responsible for this kind of damage. In your mind, you saw him as invincible. Unbeatable. A cruel monster driven by hubris that could never be stopped.

The times you'd seen him beat people like this, the times he hit you like this, you had privately desired for him to suffer the same fate one day. For karma to return everything he had dished out.

But now that he was, now that he was the one being treated without mercy, even with it being justified, you can't feel anything but fear and sadness. Regretting ever having wished this upon him.

"Jungkook," you gently call.

He's disoriented. Too many headshots having made him dizzy and unfocused. But your soft voice cuts through all of that. Looking up from the ground to you, his eyes go wide seeing you in harm's way again.

"Y/-" he starts to get up, only to be interrupted and held down. The unmasked man's hand coming down on his shoulder. The barrel of Jungkook's own gun being aimed at his chest as the man hovers over him.

"You know, your guys didn't kill my wife right away." He digs the gun tip into the bullet wound on his arm. Twisting and stabbing into the raw flesh making him grit his teeth to bear the pain. "They shot her where he knew it wouldn't kill her. Then they let her bleed out. While I could only watch. While my kids watched." The pure rage in the man's voice is finally softened. Instead, sounding horribly grieved and agonized over the memory. "Someone like you, you're probably not capable of love," he spits, pushing off Jungkook to stand straight. "But whether you love her or not, I still want you to watch her die."

The words register, but you can't absorb them. You can't react.

"Wait. Wait!" Jungkook yells after him.

Your body is throbbing in terror. Watching him advance on you. Watching him raise the gun at you.

The shot hits you in the stomach.

"No!" Jungkook howls. The two men punting him back down as he climbs to his feet. Extending the barrage of hits to impress upon him that he shouldn't try to get up again.

In shock, you delicately dab at the hole in your side. Blood pulsing out of you. The pain is more than you could have imagined. You can't pull in a full breath. Short gasps are all you can manage. Doubling over onto your hands and knees, you weakly shriek unable to deliver a solid scream.

They drag you by your arm, hurling you at Jungkook, your torso landing in his lap. He clings to you, drawing you in tight. His face twisted in anger.

"Y/n." He growls. "Don't you dare-" he can't bring himself to finish that thought.

"Don't worry darling. It won't take long." The leader says above you, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "You though," he redirects, snarling at Jungkook. "you're gonna die slow."

Not able to breathe and the blood loss is making your head light. The room feels like it's spinning. Your eyes rolling back as they close. The reprieve of rest calling you into unconsciousness. And you can't resist.

With his hand held to your heart and his chest tight, Jungkook feels for a beat. The irregular rhythm assuring him you're still alive at least.

"I hope you really did love her. Like how I loved my girl and my boy. My wife. I hope you can feel that type of pain."

Jungkook is shaking. Unfiltered loathing ravaging his thoughts. A murderous expression concealing his heartache as he feels your pulse gradually start to slow.

Moving begrudgingly like it's his duty, the leader pulls one of the few remaining tools from its place on the wall. Wringing the handle of a large Philips Head screwdriver.

Working together, the three of them rip your unconscious body apart from Jungkook. His efforts to keep you close having little impact. Numerous injuries having sapped his strength.

Stretching him out, holding him down, they pin him with their weight. One of them securing his legs. Another holding his arm and torso, the majority of his heft used to force Jungkook's face into the cement. The leader kneeling all of his weight on his left arm to keep it flat.

As the tip of the screwdriver is pressed into his palm, Jungkook grapples to keep his hand closed to no avail. The shank piercing the meat of his palm. Screaming as the length is stabbed in and yanked out. Hissing through his teeth while the sharp point trails up. Reaching about halfway up his forearm it digs into the muscle. The blade slowly forcing its way into the skin, causing him to roar again.

All at once, a shot rings out. One of the intruders taking a bullet in the back. An assault of gunfire spreading across the height of the garage, sending the other two into a panic. Scrambling for their guns. Releasing Jungkook in the frenzy, who cradles his wounded hand for a moment before jumping on the attack. Finally having sufficient reinforcement to fight back.

Picking up the screwdriver with his good hand, he lunges at the surviving masked man. Dragging him off balance. Straddling his side. Stabbing down and around to drive the tool into his chest over and over. Burying the metal in the man's throat as a final strike. His damaged hand slamming down on the top of the screwdriver, forcing it through the other side of the man's neck.

Some of Jungkook's rage having been vented, he falls away panting watching the man, satisfied as he quickly bleeds to death.

The leader of the assailants, the source of all of this woe, is completely unmatched by the dozen men who suddenly surround him. They don't grant him the opportunity to even raise his weapon, shooting him in the shoulder, knocking him down. Incapacitating him and restraining him swiftly as he tries desperately to get loose.

There are a few seconds when the dust settles, where everything is quiet again. Only the sounds of wheezed breathing and footsteps taking any space.

Apart from the few men busy with securing the house and the area, all of them are at attention looking to assist their battered leader. Wanting to help. Waiting on an order.

"Her," he signals in your direction. "Get her to a hospital."

"You too, Boss." His second lieutenant leans down, helping Jungkook stand. Getting him to solid footing.

"I'm not dying in the next 20 minutes. Let's wrap this shit up first." He dismisses the gesture. Shirking off the pain at risk of appearing weak.

"And this one?" His first aims a gun at the intruders head.

"Patch him up. He's gonna die slowly," Jungkook's voice deepens as he repeats the man's own threat back at him.

His eyes following as he gets picked up and thrown into the trunk of one of the cars. The Mafia leader in him already, concocting ruthless plans in specific detail over all the ways he is going to torture him. And how he's going to silence any doubts about his strength that this attack may have caused.

Carried in another man's arms, you're taken to the back seat of a car. The movement string you awake. The pain keeping you immobilized and dazed.

Jungkook limping slightly follows after you. He presses his hand to your chest again, relieved as he feels your heart still beating, as he sees your eyes fluttering.

Your head laying on the seat, he leans over resting his forehead upside down on yours. "I'm so sorry baby." He whispers. His hands bunch tightly around your arms, pulling at your skin. The war of both sides of him crashing together. His eyes going cold, his breath becoming ragged.

Struggling to remain conscious, your eyes close again. Jungkook's bloody hand slapping down on your face, shocking your eyes back open. Tears instantly returning to your cheeks.

"Don't you dare die!" He hisses. His hand curls around your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "I'm not going to let other people think they can come at me. Take my things. Try to hurt me." He growls, speaking just loud enough for only you and him. "So you're gonna keep living Y/n. Cause until I give you permission, you don't have the right to die."

[thekingofwinterblog]

It’s all for his sake - Endeavor and the Sunk Cost Fallacy

My hero academia 301 is a pretty interesting chapter, but for me, the most notable piece of it was how Endeavour reacted to the realization that Touya couldnt surpass All Might.

upon realizing that his son might not be able to do it because of inborn physical limitations, he immediatly stopped his training, which frankly was the responsible and adult thing to do. 

This stint of real parenthood did not last long however.

After taking the matter to a doctor, he is flat out told that not only cant Touya achive what endeavor wants, but it is a direct result of his incredibly selfish and irresponsible attempt to play god, by trying to breed the “perfect” hero into being.

It is how you react when you lose however, that shows who you really are, and endeavor illustrates that very, very well.

Upon being told in no uncertain terms that his attempts at Breeding an heir failed magnificently, producing a child that was not capable of resisting his own immense power, but also admonished by his doctor for even attempting it, and adviced not to try again, Endeavor instead doubled down, while focusing on the child he screwed over from the start with his attempt at genetic manipulation.

It was all for him you see. Endeavor doesnt use those words, but that is how he spins it here. it was all for Touya, all for his sake. if i stop now, then Touya was all for nothing, a mistake, im doing this for my son.

if im doing this for my son, then im not responsible for any of this.

his wife however, calls him out on it, as she understands Touya much, much more than endeavor does. or rather, she sees him fully as a human being, instead of as a thing, a weapon, a failed attempt at an heir.

Unlike Endeavor, Rei is able to see the way this all is affecting her son. She is able to see, and understand that Touya has fully accepted what Endeavor wanted him to be. a stronger, and better version of himself. however, unlike Endeavor, she only cares about him as a person.

Endeavour by comparison isnt completely uncaring about Touya. like most abusive parents, he does possess love for his offspring, but it is forever tainted by the fact that however much he might care, or not care about Touya, any familial love he has for his son is tainted by the fact that to Endeavor, he is a failed experiment, a failed heir, not his child. 

He is the golden child that Endeavor was building up as his true and only heir, who he breed, trained, and molded to for that single purpose, and now that he’s reached a point where he cant continue that legacy.

so, its time to abandon him, and start over new, despite literarily having just learned how stupid this plan was, and that it can, in fact, go completely wrong, with a quirk that will fuck over the person he brings into the world.

Of course, Endeavor doesnt use those words to frame it. there is no way to pretend to be a hero, if you phrase it like that after all. Intead, this is the words he uses.

this is a very important series of panels for a great number of reasons, some that can be debated, argued, and we will probably never know the full truth to the questions because this is a series published in 2020′s shonen jump, and there are things that probably wasnt gonna fly with Hori’s editors, if it was the case.

but lets start with what can not be debated. Endeavor’s words here.

“If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice... Touya... Cant surpass him.”

These are very telling words, and however you believe The third and fourth children of the Todoroki family was concieved, there is not denying the meaning of what he’s saying here.

The only way that my son will stop being an idiot and fall into line, is if we have another baby. that is the only Right way to move forward. it is morally right, because if we dont do this, then he’s going to destroy himself.

there are two ways to interpret this scene.

The charitable way is to read it as the fact that he used Rei’s oldest son’s mental state as a justification of guilting his wife to have a third child, to give this attempt at a superpowered breeding project another shot, despite the fact that they now know that this can lead to a child who is essentially born crippled from his own powers, and despite the fact that Rei obviously understands the effect of them continuing this insanity will have on their oldest son.

the uncharitable way to look at it, is that he used this as justification for flat out raping her, and forcing a third, and then later a fourth child on her.

I personally believe the last one, given a number of factors shown in this chapter(the way this page is framed, the fact Rei obviously didnt want a third child, given she predicted exactly how touya would react, the way her eyes would latet turn when she looks at who is presumably touya which really brings to mind how she would later react to her youngest son’s face after her mental breakdown, etc.), but i’ll frankly admitt that withouth a direct quote from Hori, its impossible to know for sure one way or another. 

either way however, this is a very good example of Endeavor both being influenced by, and using Sunk Cost Fallacy to justify bringing another potentially crippled child into the world for his own, selfish goals.

sunk cost Fallacy, is a mental reaction to when you invest more time and resources into a project, that you becomes so emotionally invested into said project that you will continue to invest into it, even if it reaches a point that it becomes clear that the resources you put into it, far, far outweighs the potential gains you can achieve.

because if you give up after having invested years, and years of effort to breed, raise, and train a kid, and then all that effort was absolutely wasted. hence he choose to keep going, despite having learned what a terrible idea this is.

He doesnt care about the fact that his next child might be even more crippled than his firstborn, he doesnt care about his son’s actual wellbeing. he cares about the fact that if he doesnt continue this insanity, then not only will he not achieve his dreams, but everything he did to get to this point was for absolutely nothing.

and endeavor cannot accept that. and so long as he can justify breeding more children into the world, and there being any chance they might inherit both quirks perfectly, he doesnt care about anything else.

and the moment he realised that this kid wasnt gonna cut it either, he did it again. it is not a coincidence, that the age gap between Endeavor’s second, third, and fourth children were all 3-4 years apart. because thats the age where you can usually tell when a quirk will manifest or not, as established earlier in the series.

While she isnt brought up directly by Endeavor as a justification, it is very telling that Endeavor decided on having a third child, only after his second child was old enough that he could tell that that there was no chance she could take the place as his heir instead.

So, he had his third child, and as time passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna be able to fulfill Endeavor’s goals either, he dumped him, and instead breed a fourth child into existence.

and finally, he struck gold. he did it. he produced Shoto.

everything was finally worth it, and now, everything would be absolutely fine. the cost fallacy had reached its end, and it was now all full sails ahead.

except of course it wasnt.

His oldest son, now in middle school, had been raised from birth to believe he would surpass his father, only to be thrown away, and getting to see his father try to replace him, not once, but twice.

frankly, this scene is probably my favorite in the chapter, because it goes to show Endeavor’s mindset. Natsuo made a point that their father completely ignored his older children. and he did... from Natsuo’s perspective. however, having a more thourough picture of things, we can clearly see that this wasnt the case with Touya.

Endeavor genuinly cared for Touya, enough that once he got that child he tried to breed into existence 4 times, he genuinly wanted him to just abandon trying to be a hero. he genuinly thinks of himself as a good dad here, wanting his son to abandon the mission he set out for him before he was born. of course, with context, this heartwarming scene is incredibly sad and insidious, because we understand why Endeavor got so attached to his oldest child. because he WAS the golden child. he was the child Endeavor genuinly cared about, and invested in, and trained personally with great warmth and enthusiasm.

And not only did he abandon him as a failed project the moment he realized he wasnt gonna live up to his ridiculous standards, but he literarily created 2 more kids to try and replace him, just as his oldest son was old enough to understand what exactly his dad was doing. over the course of this chapter, we get to see Touya’s start as a 5-8 year old, his deteriorating mental state over the years, until he finally seemed to reach the breaking point with Shoto’s birth sometime in his middle school years 12-15. 

Endeavor is in this scene, just not capable of understanding why Touya so desperately wants to become a hero, when obviously he isnt physically able to do so. he isnt able to understand that he is 100% to blame for the fact that his son is having a full emotional breakdown after literaly being replaced by his siblings. 

In other words, Endeavor genuinly think’s he’s a good person. a person who has made a few mistakes along the way sure, but a person who was always justified in the end, and now that he’s having to face the fact that as dabi would later say “The past never dies” and has to face the aftermath of his inane attempt to play god for the pettiest of reasons, things simply arent going to work out.

He isnt going to have a happy family, who can now put the awful early years behind them, he put way too much effort, caused too much suffering and sacrificed too many years of his life for this not to work out as he wants.

after all, if he walks away from this project now, and lets Shoto have a normal childhood, and decide for himself, with no pressure from him, wheter or not to become a hero, then the sunk cost fallacy will have reached a negative end. it will all have been for nothing.

and we know he did eventually double down on this mentality, literarily beating into Shoto that he WAS going to become a hero, and there was not but’s or no’s about it.

there was no way that Endeavor was EVER going to let things be for nothing. His treatment of his older children could not be for nothing. His treatment of his wife could not be for nothing. His treatment of Shoto, and the way he beat him black and blue to train him, could not be for nothing.

Because if it all was for nothing, if everything he feels guilty about was for absolutely nothing, then he was in fact, a bad, bad person, who had no justification for anything he ever did.

[artbyblastweave]

BLASTWEAVE what does steven universe have in common with watchmen?

Both Steven Universe and Watchmen are groundbreaking entries in their respective genres that demonstrate a deep understanding of the appeal of the genre they’re working in, and engage with their ideas on a previously unheard-of level for the medium. That breaks ground and clears the way for what other works in the genre can get away with. 

Steven Universe showed that, well, first of all that you can make a cartoon that’s fundamentally ideologically queer beyond a few side characters, but also that you can have an emotionally intelligent and mature children's cartoon where the character nuance and depth and development are all taken very seriously. Watchmen showed that you could write serious and interesting narratives about superheroes if you were willing to roll with the crazy. (Neither of them was the first to do the things I’m ascribing to them, but I do think that they’re what made it stick for their respective fields.)

In doing so, though, both works create/created a catch 22 for all future works in their genre. Part of what made both of them so good is that they were willing to critically unpack and air out the ugly implications of their format that usually get chalked up to suspension of disbelief, and now that that’s out in the open it becomes very difficult not to think about how any other given work is or isn’t addressing those issues- even if they aren’t equipped to address those issues in the scope of the story they’re trying to tell. Watchmen asked questions about who sanctions superheroes, what qualifies you to do that work, where the line is between heroism and fascism or if there even is one, whether the agency to act means you have a right or a duty to act, whether anyone who seriously bought into the superhero thing could possibly be doing it for good reasons, and, if they somehow were, how long you can care with the intensity necessary to be an effective hero without suffering burnout (not long.) I literally can’t think of a single superhero thing worth reading that isn’t in some way in conversation with Watchmen - you now kind of have to answer those questions, explicitly or implicitly, even if your books thesis is “Alan Moore sucks eggs and being a superhero is very sustainable and fantastic.” If you just leave the question of whether your superheroes are justified completely unaddressed, there’s an uncomfortable discordance there, because we’ve seen the extreme end of that sliding scale in the form of the Comedian and if the narrative doesn’t engage with what makes the protagonist not Edward Blake, it can feel worrisome. If they try and then botch it it can feel alarming.

Steven Universe has a similar thing going on, at least for me. It’s the only unironic, non-parodic children’s series that’s really, seriously unpacked how fucked up and traumatic it would be to grow up as the archetypical All-loving Spirited Saturday Morning Cartoon Protagonist, how warped and dysfunctional a household that enabled that lifestyle could be at its worst, and what the future looks like when your whole childhood was centered on a now-ended conflict. ( a lot of cartoons flirt with that last one but don’t commit.) I’ve seen jokes and intended-as-cracky fan theories about this for years, surrounding lots of other cartoons (Ben 10, Pokemon, Powerpuff Girls) but almost never with the assumption that the creators are on the same page as them. I’ve seen stories that are post-modern reimaginings using the same general archetypes or whatever (Venture Brothers) but that’s not this! SU told an entertaining story earnestly, and then engaged with the emotional fallout of the story it told, with an unheard-of breadth and depth. A whole season of unpacking! No other show has ever been allowed to sink that much effort into closure. That’s usually what Fanfic is for.

I think it’s great, and that shows like Infinity Train and The Owl House are able to go as hard as they do largely because of Steven Universe’s precedent- but no matter how good a cartoon is, I can’t watch them without having this voice in the back of my head going “Oh, these children are going to grow up to be broken wrecks, bar an extensive and harsh healing process that kinda hurts to watch, huh.”

The issue is that not every cartoon can be Steven Universe, where the project was to thoughtfully and sensitively unpack this stuff. It’s a fair bet that we’ll probably never see a show with that exact project again (not least because of the loss of novelty value.) You’ve got your own stories you wanna tell that’ll run their own course, mostly aimed at children, there objectively isn’t narrative or financial room for most stories to unpack these assumptions if that wasn’t the goal going in. For example, Gravity Falls had pretty tight storytelling and a narrative that absolutely had room for a post-script "where-do-we-go-from-here” plot- it sped-run the “oh no, childhood’s ending” thing- and it’s pretty telling that the aftermath, healing process, interpersonal relationships and so forth are one of the things that that fandom heavily fixates on. The narrative had such a clean ending that it made people go looking for the mess. That’s not bad! It’s how most storytelling works! But now I look at any cartoon with kid heroes that’s meant to be taken even marginally seriously and go, Oh. Win the battle, lose the war. Then I feel sad. The contrast, of course, is that most superhero works actually can be, and in fact benefit from trying to be like Watchmen, because all the questions Watchmen raises about the ethics of power are also just.... like.... the most interesting storytelling hooks if you want to write a cape thing with real themes. They’re the kind of stories we’d have gotten years prior naturally if not for the CCA boondoggle. Admittedly it kinda creates a different problem where most “good” cape media is inescapably self-referential and draws on picking apart the conventions of a 60-70-year old canon that hasn’t been in wide circulation in years. But! I also think there’s a stronger obligation there to keep superhero fans in check- if your superhero thing isn’t making the reader question the ethics of violence and individual heroism in the face of systemic injustice, you wind up with people who unironically think Frank Castle is a role model to be emulated. We all know that guy. Children’s media doesn’t really produce that guy the same way, although it can draw them in from other corners. Superhero media often needs to be self-critical in a way children’s cartoons don’t always have to be.

[midnightwinterhawk]

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom​ for the inspiration. 

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

-

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

--

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter​

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After  years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos,  it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a  suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles  would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

//

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

[limeinaltime]

*Points* X time babeyyy

So yeah, X is getting a slight revamp herself. Not to the same degree as R, but her backstory is receiving a few changes. Once again, special thanks to the mystery anon who’s been sending in the R/X swap stories for helping me semi-polish the OG mom.

X’s existence precedes the Yeetening (the official name of the core explosion on the exoplanet Liam said so in the Q&A) by a few years, as she was built as the first in a possible line of security drones, but her programming also made her a good caretaker/guardian of the employee’s children. After JC Jensen caught wind of the “rouge AI” inhabiting the planet, they switched gears and made X more attuned to combat and hunting, and eventually made R based on the observation for X’s refined AI.

X and R became close, and were like the poster girls for the new line of drones, the Internecion Drones. Unfortunately, due to budgeting and the response to the Internecion Drones (if they were to turn against the company, JC Jensen would be effectively fucked), they were cast down into a bomb-proofed bunker and left to starve or kill each other. The company had to choose between X and R to continue developing a possible counter to the worker drones, ad in the end, they chose the newer, more enthusiastic, stronger robot to survive while the old one was cast down. The old one being X.

After years of lying in darkness and eventually falling to overheating, X was brought back into the light, but in a new, upgraded body. After tearing apart the outfit JC Jensen was making her wear and forcing convincing them to give her one of the boy’s coats instead, she learned what had happened to her.

R wasn’t fully compatible with all the AI tests, and X’s high compatibility scores made her an ideal test subject, as well as a means to test their new AI. If she cooperates, R will not suffer, but she cannot tell anyone about what’s about to happen to her, or R’s life will be made so, so much worse. Despite her anger, X accepts, if only to keep X safe.

Years go by. Each AI “experiment” wipes more and more of X’s ability to emote, until she feels dead and empty. She’s not apathetic, just tired. It becomes a struggle to express her feelings, and she can only watch as R becomes more and more scared and broken by the humans. She doesn’t understand. She’s been well-behaved, and she’s done what the company has asked of her. She wants more than anything to get R away from this place, but she knows that if she acts up, JC Jensen will do something drastic, and either R will die, or X will be killed and R will be alone.

She doesn’t care how much the experiments hurt. She doesn’t care how many times she’s disassembled for these stupid AI showcases. She doesn’t care how often she has to hide how tired and angry she is. She’ll do it all, if only to keep R safe.

Of course, because we can’t have shit at JC Jensen, things change. R grows distant and angry, and X can’t figure out why. Is it because she’s nice to the younger drones? Did she do something wrong?

Then the two are overlooked for the mission to the exoplanet, and X figures it out. R wants out, to get away from the tests and cruelty of the company, and this mission is that ticket out of here, if only temporarily. X overhears a bet that will get them both out of this company, and decides to make it work. She’s never really put any effort into these simulations, but if it’ll get R what she wants, then she’ll try.

What X didn’t count on is after she leaves everyone, including R, in the dust, she’s made team leader. She didn’t want this, but she knows that R did.

R’s growing distance turns into outright hatred towards X, but she doesn’t care. R is alive. She is safe (sort of) and they’re on their way to the exoplanet, where the technicians and their nasty tools can’t reach her. She likes their new teammate, S, but still feels guilty for not trying sooner. Was this what the company wanted? Would she have been able to spare R the pain if she had acted more violent, instead of more complacent and obedient?

Her apology is met with a fist to the gut, and R lunges at her with so much hatred and fury and X just… lets it happen. She knows that this is what R deserves, what she deserves, and she lets R go at her, kicking and biting and punching and screaming every profanity, insult and curse she can in X’s face. Even with her crazy-high pain resistance, every blow and venom-drenched word hurts, but X doesn’t stop her.

For a whole hour, R goes at it until she can barely speak, and eventually gets off X and prepares to fly off. S goes to help her, but R stops him. The two fly off, leaving X at the launch pod.

She’s in a lot of pain and broken in the few places, but she’ll live. In a few days, she’ll be able to hunt, and she’ll be able to be useful.

But for now, R is safe. Even if she hates X and berates and scolds her and treats her like shit once X gives up her leadership role, she’s still safe. And X will do anything to keep her best friend (but she knows she’s not R’s) safe. No matter what it takes.

And then R starts beating up kids.

The doodles above are some of the few expressions X can still make with her visor. She mostly uses body language and vocalizations to express herself.

[amphibious-entity]

TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13. 

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins​

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

           “Reid is in jail.”

           I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

           “Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

           “In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

           The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

--

           “This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

           “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

           “The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

           “Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

           “We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

           “Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

           “Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

           “Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

           “How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

           “Three days.”

           “That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

--

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

           “We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

           “Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

           “Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

           Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

           “Where did you meet her?”

           Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

           “I… I don’t remember.”

           “If you saw her, would you remember her?”

           Spencer nodded in affirmation.

           “You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

           “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

           “And you’ve been drugged?”

           I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

           “Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

           “Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

           Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

           “Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

           Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

           Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

           “Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

           “Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

           Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

           “No.”

           “Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

           Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

           “Can… Can you stay?”

           Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

           “I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

           “Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

           Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

           And then there were two.

           I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

           “Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

           As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

           “About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

           “I’m… In Mexico.”

           A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

           “You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

           I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

           “It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

           “Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

           “Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

           “How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

           “I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

           “Wait, so, where are you?”

           “I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

           “Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

           I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

           “The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

           “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

           “I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

           “I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

           There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

           “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

           “Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

           “I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

           “Love you, too.”

           I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

           For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

           I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

           I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

           I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

           “I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

           He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

           I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

           Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

           “I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

           “M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

           Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

           “Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

           The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

           “Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

           The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

           It would have to be enough for now.

--

           Nadi Ramos was dead.

           I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

           I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

           And target him he fucking did.

           “We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

           “How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

           “She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

           Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

           “We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

           “What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

           “He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

           I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

           “Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

           Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

           “It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

           “Do I want to know?”

           Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

           “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

           “I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

           “Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

           “I’ll try.”

           Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

           “There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

           Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

           “What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

           Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

           “I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

           Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

           “Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

           Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

           “I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

           “Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

           Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

           “I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

           I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

           “I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

           I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

--

           When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

           We are so beyond fucked.

           “How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

           “He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

           “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

           Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

--

           While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

           “We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

           “I don’t know how.”

           “He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

           “If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

           “Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

           “Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

           “I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

           “Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

           “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

           “I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

           I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

--

           “We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

           “Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

           “Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

           “Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

           “We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

           Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

           “Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

           “Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

           “That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

           “Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

           “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

           “So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

           “It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

           “Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

           “Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

           “Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

           “You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

           “I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

           “Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

           “Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

           “We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

           And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

           “What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

           Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

           “There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

           “Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

           “Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

           “So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

           “Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

           “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

           “Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

           “Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

           “I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

           “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

           “Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

           “Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

           “That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

           “What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

           “Why?”

           “Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

           ���Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

           “Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

           “This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

           Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

           “It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

           “We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

           “I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

           One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

           “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

           Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

           I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

--

           “We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

           Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

           “I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

           “It was for the right reason.”

           “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

           “We do, too.”

           Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

           “Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

           We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

           “I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

           I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

           “I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

           “Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

           Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

           “For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

           I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

           We cannot give him that recording.

           Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

           “I didn’t record it.”

           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

           “But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

           “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

           Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

           Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

           “You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

           “We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

           But so is Scratch.

--

           All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

           Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

           “You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

           “I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

           “You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

           Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

           “Since when did you get so insightful?”

           A grin stretched its way across his face.

           “Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

           “And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

--

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?”            “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

           -Storm Constantine

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

The meadow, the river and him.

Day 5 of Jeankasa Week 2021: Angst

AO3

Mikasa reflects on her love before letting him know of big news

His body jolts in his sleep, which seems like an unnatural thing to do in the middle of the quiet, sunlit meadow. We were lulled to sleep by the birds in the trees merely ten minutes ago, and the nightmares are haunting him again. It’s not a strange occurrence for both us around this time of season, when summer begins to die.

I turn over in his arms and kiss his right cheek, while one of my hands combs back his hair. I take a moment to stare; he really is beautiful. The perfect lines of his face, the stubble on his chin, his nose, his lips, it is all so beautiful that -at the very beginning of our relationship, when the threads of love hadn’t been weaved together yet- I used to wonder what was it about me that had caught his eye for so long.

Jean stirs in his sleep again, mumbling “I’m sorry” over and over. We’ve barely slept the past few days and as much as I want him to rest, I can’t see him suffer for much longer. I sit up, lean over his face, and place a kiss on his lips, tapping gently on his cheek.

“Mikasa?” He always says my name upon waking up; he’s always looking for my presence both in his sleep and reality. With time I learned how much I also longed to look for him, how wonderful it felt to say his name and have him reply with a loving smile and a kiss.

“I’m here,” I say, making shooshing noises as I kiss his neck. “You were having a nightmare.”

Jean rubs the back of my head, breathing much more easily. “It was an awful nightmare,” he says shakily. “Come here, look at me.”

I settle into his arms like a bird into its nest, hugging his chest while locking eyes with him. Years ago, I thought that my home had burned with the destruction of the world. But now his arms are home, a new, sweet, love-infused home I never want to leave.

“What was the nightmare about?” I ask after a moment of silence.

“Lay back,” he requests sweetly. I lie on the blanket, which is still warm despite being under the shade of a tree. He climbs on top of me, and I wait for him to start taking off my red dress, or for his hands to explore beneath my underpants. But all Jean does is press his head against my chest, leaning against my left breast.

“Honey, what is it?” I ask again, putting both of my hands on his head, enjoying the scent of his shampoo.

He looks up at me after a while. “Your heartbeat,” he says; his voice is shaking, his eyes have the glint of tears in them. “I want to make sure you’re one hundred percent here.”

“Jean, I’m alive,” I say, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I’m alive and I’m all yours, alright? Forget that nightmare.”

He hugs me, burying his face between my breasts in a position that, thirty minutes ago, I would’ve found arousing. But seeing him tear up from his bad dreams only stirs the protective instinct in me. I understand his fears when it comes to losing me, for I fear the same thing. He’s a proper man now, stronger than when he was a teenager and a great ambassador for peace. And yet, all I want to do is protect him, keep in between my arms for the rest of our days, out of harm’s way.

“Mikasa,” he sobs, lifting his face to look at me again. “It was a really awful dream.”

“It’s over now,” I say, grabbing his face to kiss him for a long minute. “It wasn’t real. You’re with me, and it’s really warm, and we should go take a dip in the river.”

“The worst nightmares I have are about losing you,” he whimpers. “I’m always okay when I realize you’re still here with me.”

Jean kisses me again, pressing his naked torso against me. My hands travel the muscles in his back; he’s so perfectly well built, almost chiseled by hand. I’ve never been one to fall for someone for his looks, but I have never denied that his beautiful body caught my eye long before I even thought of him as a lover, as anything other than a good friend.

“I love you, Jean,” I whisper, kissing his cheeks, lips, and forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, Mikasa,” he whispers back as I use my fingers to wipe the remaining tears on his face. “I love you so much, that sometimes I’m scared that the nightmares are the real world, and this is just an illusion.”

“It isn’t.” I say firmly. “This is real life. You and me, that is real life. The bad things are behind us.”

“I love you, gorgeous.”

“I love you too, handsome.” I say, giving him the sweet smile that was born at the same time as my love for him was. Not once I thought I would smile and laugh this often, and this sincerely. “I love you so, so very much.”

We stay in silence for a long time, wallowing in the love we have for each other. His breathing steadies, and I know that he’s past the initial terror from his nightmare when he looks up at me with a shy smirk. “You mentioned the river, didn’t you? I thought you didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“I didn’t.” I say, smiling cheekily.

“That means you and I get to go skinny dipping.”

“That’s precisely why I didn’t bring any bathing suit.” I say, kissing him again.

Jean helps me undo the buttons of my dress. We’re well accustomed to each other’s bodies by now. I still remember us not being able to keep our hands off each other the first couple of weeks after our first night together…although that hasn’t changed much, I think as he kisses the length of my back while squeezing my breasts. “Swimming, lover boy,” I remind him, tilting my head to the side so he can kiss my neck. “We’re going swimming first.”

“Sorry,” Jean says. Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling.

We finish removing our clothes and dip into the river holding each other’s hands. The water is cool on my skin; the heatwaves at the end of summer have become worse after the rumbling, so Jean and I have made a bit of a habit of coming here to cool off on our free days. It’s our little corner of the world away from everyone and everything, our quiet paradise.

I dip my head under water, and he does the same. When we come out, the breeze feels fresher.

I have a hope it’ll remain untouched by modernization, a hope I know won’t come true. With all the new trade routes established, and the help coming into Shingashina straight from Hizuru’s mines, I know civilization will extend into our little paradise.

“You’re all serious now,” Jean says, taking a hold of me. I float closer to him, wrap my legs around his waist and my hands around his neck. “What’s on your mind?”

I kiss him. “I’m thinking I don’t want anyone to build a park here…or a factory.”

“It would be harder to go skinny dipping.” He says; we’re both aware of my hardened nipples against his chest, of the thing hardening just between his legs. The swimming won’t go on for long, but that’s alright.

“Want me to buy the place?” Jean asks.

“With whose money?”

“Some people owe me favors in the continent and Hizuru, remember?” Jean says, shrugging with some of the ego that characterized his teenage self, making me giggle. His hands are on my lower back, and it won’t take them long to go further below. “I could ask for a loan…”

“Don’t get yourself into debt for me.” I laugh, kissing him again. “I’m sure they’d give us the money straight up.”

“Alright, then want me to buy this place for you?” Jean says. “We could build a house, right there by the tree. It would be our summer home, away from the city.”

I think about it for a while. “It could be a good place to raise a family,” I say slowly, leaning on his shoulder to examine the quiet meadow, the distant mountains. “A place to grow old in.”

“That apartment will only get us so far.” Jean says, looking at the spot I’m focusing on as well. I know he’s imagining the house, our future. “I mean, when we start having children, we won’t all fit in there.”

“How many children are you trying to get me to have?” I ask, looking up at him, the whole of me aware of his manhood pressing against my entrance, fully awakened now. “Ten? Fifteen?”

He shrugs. “Three will be good. Three is a good number.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Three sounds like a plan.”

I kiss him again, my tongue dipping into his mouth. It’s been a couple of years since we got married, and we only started talking about children a few months ago. I was the one who started the conversations, in fact. I still smile at the memory of his dumbfounded expression as I brought out the subject of children, how his face changed from surprise to elation.

His kisses stray from my mouth to my neck, then finally to my nipples. He takes them in his mouth and runs his tongue over them, while three of his fingers enter me. I tilt my head back, enjoying the movements of his long fingers inside me, my eyes on the blue, cloudless sky above us.

It doesn’t take long for him to carry me back to the blanket under the tree. “So long for the swimming.” I say against his ear.

“We have the whole afternoon.” He replies. “We can dip in later.”

“And what will we do now?”

“Want to get started making the first baby?” He asks as he lays me down. He places himself on top of me; my hands go to his face, and I settle my eyes on him. Cooling off from the heatwave isn’t the only reason why I wanted to come here today.

“About that,” I say, taking a deep breath. “We don’t need to get started at all.”

Jean blinks, confused. “What do you mean? Do you want to wait some more?”

I sigh. “You’re hopeless,” I say, kissing his lips for a moment before whispering. “I’m already pregnant, Jean.”

He looks at me, his eyes filling with tears. But these aren’t tears of despair nor fear. These are happy tears, tears that wash away the pain from the past. It’s the same tears I shed when I realized I was madly, irrevocably in love with him.

“When?” He asks, placing quick kisses on my face. “When did we make it?”

“We’ve been trying every night for months, haven’t we?” I say with a low giggle; his stubble always tickles me when he kisses me like this. But he looks too good with it to ask him to shave it off. “I must be about three, four weeks pregnant, if I’m guessing right.”

“Does my mom know? Does Armin know? Connie?” He asks, not giving me time to answer.

“I sent a letter to Armin and Annie, one to Pieck, one to Reiner,” I say, smiling widely as I put a strand of hair behind his ear. “Your mom knows. Connie knows because he was there when I told your mother.”

“When did you tell her?”

“Just yesterday,” I say, letting another moment go by so he can kiss me. “I wanted to tell you here. This is our spot, after all.”

“When did you find out?” Jean asks; it seems he cannot stop kissing my face.

“About a week ago. I wanted to tell you earlier, but we could never find time to come here.”

“I fucking hate my job, I could’ve known a week ago.” Jean mutters, making me laugh. He looks at me and chuckles as well. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t curse so near the baby.”

Something clicks in him, and he scrambles to stand up, looking terrified. “I’m sorry!” He shouts, startling me. “I’m lying on top of you like a dumbass.”

“Is that bad?” I ask, confused.

“I don’t want to hurt our baby!” He says, pacing back and forth naked. I cover my mouth to giggle lowly; as beautiful as he is, seeing him naked with that silly look on his face makes me laugh like a little kid making fun of an adult. “We need to start getting everything we need. We need to find a doctor to see you. Do you want to give birth in Shingashina? I know Historia will let us in the royal palace if you want something more comfortable.”

“Jean, honey, we have nine months.” I say, feeling my love for him grow bigger, if possible. “We can think about all of that later.”

“I can’t help it,” Jean asks, beaming as he sits next to me. “I’m so fucking excited —sorry, no cursing in front of the baby.”

“The baby won’t mind.” I say. “I’m sure he or she loves you already.”

“You think so?” He says, placing a hand on my lower abdomen. I put my hand on top of his; it’s hard for me to believe life is growing inside me. A life he helped create, a life that will be half his, half mine. “Do you think our baby really loves me already?”

“I’m sure our baby feels the love I have for you, and they love you just as strongly,” I say, nearing my face to his to kiss him. His tongue touches mine again, and we both lie back on the grass, feeling each other’s bodies as our mouths are intertwined. He leans slightly to press half of his weight on my body, grinding his shaft against me. I take a hold of it, placing my legs so one tiny movement will push him inside me.

“Make love to me.” I whisper.

“I don’t wanna hurt the baby.”

“Jean!” I say, rolling my eyes in amusement. “You won’t hurt the baby!”

“How big am I, Mika?” He asks seriously, pulling back.

I cast a glance at his throbbing manhood. “Quite big, yes,” I say, feeling my cheeks heating up. “Which is very nice. I enjoy it very much each time you make love to me.”

“What if I hurt the baby?” He asks, looking genuinely concerned. I stare at him for a long moment, my sweet expression dropping as each second passes. Another moment goes by, and laughter escapes my chest in uncontrollable bouts; it echoes around us and is carried away by the wind.

“You’re such an idiot!” I laugh, covering my mouth as I start snorting. “You and I are going to drop by a bookstore on our way back.”

“The bookstore?” Jean says, blinking in confusion.

“You need to know more anatomy, Jean Kirstein.” I laugh, and he starts laughing with me.

“Alright, I’m an idiot,” he says, putting his hand on my cheek. My laughter dies slowly, but my love for him remains as strong as before. Stronger now, perhaps, after that stupidly naïve comment. “I’ll try my best to learn about pregnancy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was adorable,” I say, kissing his cheek. “We still have two to go, don’t we? So, you’ve got plenty time to learn. But I would like you to read some more about anatomy, please. Didn’t you pay attention to sex ed with Hange?”

“It’s not like they knew much about sex ed,” Jean replies, scrunching up his face at the memory. “Didn’t they spend a whole afternoon talking about their theories on how titans should reproduce? The whole asexual reproduction plant comparison?”

I giggle again, feeling only the smallest twinge of pain from the memory of Hange. Grief never leaves us, not really. It comes and goes, in waves, sometimes as huge as tsunamis, some other times mere undulations on the water.

“Do you want a girl or a boy?” He asks, kissing my breast.

“A girl would be nice.” I say, smiling at him.

“A girl would be great. Can you imagine? A little girl that looks exactly like you but has my talent for singing?” Jean agrees, and I push him playfully.

“Watch it, Kirstein! I’m not a bad singer.”

Jean smiles, brushing hair away from my face while looking at me like I’ve been just weaved out of sunlight. “I’ll buy this place for you, alright? It’ll be our home. Our baby girl is going to grow up here, I’ll teach her how to fish.”

“Things will get busy from now on,” I say. “A baby is a big responsibility.”

“You’ll be the best mom, I just know it,” he assures me, wrapping me in a warm embrace. I close my eyes and hug him back.

“And you’ll be the best dad.” I say, waiting a moment to add. “Handsomest dad, too.”

“And you’ll be the hottest mom around.”

I giggle. “Are you trying to seduce me, Kirstein?”

“All the time, Ackerman.”

Our lips meet again, and we’re lost in each other. To this day, I am grateful for this connection we’ve built out of rubble. His love saved me from the precipice of grief; it told me I was not doomed.

Humans would never rid themselves off their greed for power, their hatred for one another, however, and our experiences during the peace negotiations were proof of that. But ten years have passed, and we have left most of the horrors behind. And although I’m sure that, in the distant future, us humans will simply commit the same crimes against each other again, for now I don’t have to worry about that.

For now, it’s the soft blanket of sunlight that wraps me up every day. For now it’s the promise that, like the change of winter into spring, everything comes alive again…even after it’s been set ablaze. For now, it’s the certainty that things can be good again. For now, all I want is the happiness and hope his love has brought me…no, the happiness and hope our love has brought to each other.

For now it’s just Jean and I, the meadow and the river.

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven

chapter 11 - fever dream

trigger warning, body horror and blood, lots of blood. around 3.8K words.

He knew he had overstayed his welcome by the tiredness in her eyes, a stab of guilt very close to piercing through his skin though he resisted. He had struck a nerve without meaning to, his flirting and prodding taken too far, what he intended to bring them closer making her recoil instead. Heisenberg had left her cabin with shoulders slumped and heart heavy, but the way she had bid him goodbye told him everything would be just fine. It was all forgotten by the time he turned the corner to go further into the forest, all suppressed under a boot-clad stomp. He would not consider how he might have personally hurt her, how he might have dug in too deep and crossed the few lines she had established. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a stupid little voice told him that he cared, even if he didn’t mean to, and there was only so much he could ignore it before it bubbled to the surface. He had dealt with worse. Keeping feelings and memories buried was a skill he had developed over almost a hundred years.

Her feelings were not important right now, he reminded himself, because the plan took all precedence. There would be no more village if Miranda saw her plans fulfilled, no little witch to offend and no metal man to call stupid nicknames. Maybe once they were free he would be interested in truly making friends, sitting down to talk things through and giving her time to answer his questions, not when he pressed but when she was ready. Bah, who was he kidding? He was not a man meant to play house, to have healthy relationships that were based on dialogue and mutual understanding with. He was the worst friend a person could have. She could die mad.

Still, perhaps there were lines he would better not cross, at least to keep her complacent. From the very beginning he had intended to keep her in the dark as much as possible, only tell her what was strictly necessary to have her help him. Learn what she could truly do, exploit it as covertly as possible, then unceremoniously dump her so he could finally fight his battles. Get from point A to point B, make himself an ally, but not a friend. She was a tool, as were all others, living or dead. He would see his ambition realized. He would set himself free.

Hours bled into days and into a week before he saw her again. His days once again become a blur of planning and building, head empty if not for the thoughts of revenge and the rage that fueled him ever onward. Research at the factory was going smoothly enough, problems here and there. Miranda was mostly out of his hair, as was Alcina, having finally given up after he told her, time and again, that nothing other than lycans inhabited the woods. Some power failures in Eins were a true head-scratcher, night after night of writing and drawing, assembling and disassembling. It was a good way to pass the time. Sturm was still a failure, a project put on the back burner until the right inspiration hit him.

It all reached a boiling point not soon after, stress catching up to him when a mining drill down the mine shafts malfunctioned and exploded, the cave-in cutting off a whole team of haulers and all the resources they had gathered. The bodies soon began to rot and the stench filled the vents, crept through tunnels to find him in all rooms he thought he could hide in. Night and day his soldiers would drill and get nowhere, night and day he would work to see no returns. He had descended into a fit of rage that brought out the worst within him, his transformation no longer his to control after the first few minutes of thrashing and shouting. It hurt as much this time as it did every other, flesh tearing and pulsing and twisting and expanding, tendons pulled, muscles sore, skin stretching far beyond what it should ever be able to. Pain seared through every inch of him, a gust of flame where his blood should be. It burned unbearably hot while chilling him to the bone with the sheer horror of it.

His conscience would never fully slip him in those moments. He would not recognize himself in the mirror, his appearance no longer that of a man, but he was still him, still a genius of engineering, still a silver fox that could charm the pants off of anyone if he wanted to. At least that was what he told himself, though there was definitely and underlying hunger that he could not suppress, that was not entirely his. Not for meat like the Duke’s, not for blood like Alcina’s. Not at all physical, but gnawing on his bones nonetheless. A need for violence, for terror, to destroy everything and crush everyone. Turn every living being to a pulp and make art with the carnage, paint the walls red and hang their insides from the ceiling. His fingers itched for it even when they no longer existed, his heart pulsating with rage and anticipation. It was hard to keep himself in check sometimes, to stop the spiral that brought him ever downward, towards the blackened waters of oblivion that he felt were always so dangerously close to consuming him. He would be no better than any of them if he gave in, he repeated it as a mantra, no better than the family of abominations who consumed flesh and drank blood like the finest wine, no better than the lycans who toyed with the villagers only to eviscerate them and then suck the marrow out of their bones. But how would it feel, a small voice asked in the back of his mind, to be so free, to let his rage flow with the blood he spilled, vindication for thousands of days of suffering. He could almost taste it, feel his sins washed away by the sacrifice, dangerously within reach, so very tempting. Every time he resisted, and every time it became harder to do so.

He can’t remember the last time he’d lost control, the last time he’d blacked out and woken up a day later in his birthday suit and covered in guts that weren’t his. He can’t remember if it had been yesterday or last year or thirty years ago, but he remembers the feeling all too well, the sickening soft touch of tissue, foul smelling bits of flesh underneath his nails. He could never know who, or why, or how, and could only hope he hadn’t blown his cover, hadn’t killed someone Mother would miss. The last time, he never quite managed to wash the contents of the poor soul’s stomach from his hair, the stench nauseating. It had been the first time he had taken scissors to his hair and cut it with a fury and desperation he did not know he possessed. Ther uneven strands only served to remind him that his monstrous self was but a failed project away, looming in the darkness, a return to the bloody roots Miranda had ingrained within him on that operating table all those years ago.

Fists slam against the table in an attempt to let off some steam as he curses his temper, his family, that crow bitch for ruining him forever. But it only serves to stoke the fires, to anger him further, cloth rips as he yells and everything goes downhill from there.

These moments between man and beast are always the most difficult, the ones that seem to last forever, the ones that plague him with so many thoughts he feels his head will explode. Would an army be enough to stop her? Hundreds upon hundreds of lost souls hanging overhead, conveyor belts transporting his army on an endless display of his greatest accomplishments. He could only hope enough of his machines would survive the waves of lycans she would throw at them; he could practically see it, teeth bared and eyes gaunt, claws reaching to grab onto something, anything that would give it purchase, an armor plate, perhaps the tube that kept the soldier’s blood pumping. One after the other the lycans would fall, until they had become too many, a pile of writhing half-humans feasting on its disgusting prey. He could practically hear it, and every exploded reactor chipped away a sliver of his confidence - and his sanity.

He never intended to get involved, never intended to join the battle and cut through monsters. His eyes had always been set on Mother, Mother and the stupid lieutenants she called her children. Moreau crying for it all to stop, Donna cowering with Angie behind moldy wings. Alcina would be the only one to face him head on, he knew, and finally he would be able to tear her apart with her own nails. He would then pluck one out to shoot it right at the dollmaker’s face, right onto the squirming parasite that inhabited the half of her face where her eye ought to be. To Moreau he would give a present, a grenade for him to swallow whether he felt hungry or not, a tasty last meal for the disgusting fish man who scraped the bottom of the muddy river. As for Miranda, he hoped it was enough, he was enough, all of his experimentations and studying and training coming together to make him unstoppable. Only time would tell, and with each passing day he grew wearier, and the beast stronger.

But what did he have to lose?

His mind barely registered his actions as he made his way out of the factory, a bundle of papers tucked under his arm, hammer and cigar long forgotten. The world greeted him with a sheen of milky fog, of faded colors that threatened to jump at him in full vibrancy at a moment’s notice, threatened to overwhelm his already weakened perception. His tendons pulled and muscles ached with each agonizing step, left knee and elbow burning like he had shoved them inside a furnace and forgotten to take them out. His head hurt worse than the most gruesome of hangovers, light swimming in his eyes and creating a dozen blind spots that could lead him to any number of traps. Beads of perspiration had gathered on his brow despite the cold, the kind of feverish sweat that keeps you awake at night and makes you see stars and aliens, eyes rolling back but somehow wide open in a never ending fever dream. He had grown accustomed to it, the high of growing into a behemoth of flesh and steel, and the lows that came with it when it was all over and he had to return to being a shell of a man with enough rage to make the devil jealous.

Most times he would lie face down against the factory floor, let the stone ease him into restless sleep, until some hauler tripped over him and decided to drag him along and out of the way. It had become so common he had instructed them for it, too, to leave him at his quarters and then carry on working, so that he could also carry on working as soon as this hurdle was over with. But then sometimes the fever grew so hot he would stumble out into the yard to find the nearest mound of snow to flop onto, and he could swear he could hear it fizzle under his skin.

This time he had taken to walking, the only thing in his mind as his body protested and he pretended not to listen, one foot after the other, though he had no clue where they would take him. His wounds bled as they always did, a new collection of scars every time he transformed and the metal lodged itself deep within his flesh, left a trail behind as he made his way down towards the river, the trees his only support. It was then he heard it, the faintest of whispers, the most alluring of laughs. He raised his head to catch a glimpse of her, running away to hide from him, inviting him to chase her and catch her, lay her on a bed of twigs and thorns and explore her endless delights.

His little witch in the woods, naked under the moonlight just like he had imagined, standing right in the middle of the bridge that shook more violently than ever before. She did not seem to mind the cold, did not care about her dignity, her cheeks flushed and desire in her eyes as she called to him, and he could not help but follow.

He had stumbled on the last plank, foot stuck between a rusty nail and loose splinter just as he was about to catch her, when he reached out his hand and felt her hair slipping between his fingers. His face had hit the ground before he could register what happened, his little witch gone, a mouthful of snow and dirt all he had, papers scattering in the wind with the fall.

In his clarity he could hear the shuffling of feet in the distance, the frantic sniffing as the wolfmen smelled its prey in the air. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched him from behind the trees, hungry, desperate, waiting for his conscience to slip, for him to never get up, for him to stop walking, to heed their call and fall into their trap. The anxious tingle on his fingertips tells him he’s on edge, that fear creeps up his bones and into his blood and out of his pores like the sweetest of perfumes. But his bones hurt, so very much that there is no space for anything else in his mind. He picks himself up and walks, walks like he has a purpose, like he knows where to go and just what to say. Heisenberg no longer strode with the confidence of a man who knows there is nothing in this world more dangerous than himself, but with the sensation of being so small, so insignificant, a bundle of flesh and blood that could be torn and consumed. All that was left was the hope, the knowledge that something old prowled the woods, older than himself, something immensely powerful that meant him no harm.

He cannot tell if the sigh of relief stays only in his head when he sees the fence in the distance, rounds the yard lightning fast for a feverish man, the sound of his steps crunching the snow almost comical as he tried to run faster than his legs could take him. He catches himself on the porch railing before his teeth can hit the wood as he stumbles once again. There is no fear, only humor in his laughter, because he has made it, reached the safe haven of that decrepit cabin hidden between the mountains.

The witch stood at the porch, basket of laundry at her hip as she made her way out the door, an improvised clothesline strung between a post and a lantern hook. She was not startled this time, the expression on her face telling him he was expected, the smell coming from inside the cabin making his stomach rumble. He tries not to stare too long, not to pay attention to her beautiful features; every second they seem more twisted, a sinister smile, a hole where her face should be, a multitude of eyes, a pair of antlers. The disappointment was perhaps the worst of all, the look of disgust in her eyes. He cannot tell apart reality and dream and at this point he would prefer not to.

She blinked once, twice, confusion adorning her features as she looked him up and down but surely failed to understand just why Karl Heisenberg had dragged himself all the way up to her home wounded, naked except for his trench coat and hat, and looking like a man so high he could see beyond time. He had no shame left in him, between his confidence and the fever, and despite the weirdness of the situation, she was unfazed after the first few seconds, even when she lifted his chin to look him in the eye and he recoiled like an injured beast. If she hounded him for answers, she would get none. She would be lucky if he managed to mutter his own name.

He can’t tell if he had found the sanity to greet her, mind relaxing and patting itself in the back for successfully bringing him to his destination. She sets the basket down and walks towards him to come fetch him, one hand on his shoulder and the other settling on his waist as she guided him inside, and he cannot help but notice there are fingers and toes where her laundry should be, a bountiful, but gruesome harvest. A warning light flashes in his head when the cabin looks different, hands and organs and heads displayed in a macabre backdrop of blood and guts. He is shaking like a leaf when she sits him down on the couch, papers (papers?) taken away from him to be placed on the dinner table, and only when he motioned to grab them did he notice his hand was long gone, blown away like it had been caught in a shrapnel blast. He bites down on his lip as a last ditch attempt not to scream in horror, teary eyed and hurting. An entire mess and a half, with no explanation to give either him or her, but she did not seem to mind, busy grabbing her tools (saw, knife, cutters), wearing the bloodshed like a cape that was made to fit her.

She left him unattended but a moment before returning with the same box of supplies she had used when they first met (surely the tools she had hid within her apron pockets), cloth and antiseptic and the promise that this would burn, bad. He had half a mind to tell her not to worry, to let him bleed and heal on his own like he knew he would. He meant to tell her it was all good, and he had lost that hand before, and the leg, and the blood, and the sanity. It hurt but would not kill him, nothing could, even though he had tried. Instead he said nothing, for he had vastly overestimated his capabilities, less than half a mind at this point, pain and fear sloshing within him like a furious tide. The hat was the first to come off, and he tried to ignore how gentle her touch felt when she brushed back his hair to get a better look at his face.

“Are you still with us, my lord?” Her voice was but an echo inside his head, light as a feather as he rested against the couch and felt sleep tugging at his conscience, though the shock would not let him go. He is unsure whether he is asleep or awake after that, if the feeling of her fingers tracing over his skin are a hallucination or reality, but he sees it clearly regardless, feels it just the same. He taps his foot on the floor impatiently and notices that it is wet, it is all wet, the waters come in through the open door and flood every nook and cranny, only a matter of time before they are both drowned. Not water, no, blood, viscous, fresh, warm blood.

His trench coat is gently pushed off his shoulders, blood staining the throw that lined the couch but getting lost in the scenery, and dexterous fingers run over his scars, find their way to the open wounds speckled on his skin like a starry sky. Her touch was gentle but it hurt regardless, the haze in his mind imprisoning him in what felt like a perpetual state of suffering. The burning turned instead to the raw sensation of being torn apart, the flesh of his abdomen rending impossibly under her ministrations. He looks down to see her hand has disappeared on him, no, in him, the corners of her mouth stretched into an impossible smile. He is fully gone when something tugs at him, within him, bile gathering in his throat at the thought, at the feeling of having someone poke around his insides - again.

It is then that it all hits him, laughter explodes and he bellows - he has finally died. He sees it now, how it was all an illusion, and in reality he had been splayed in the snow all this time, blood pooling around his body and inviting all manner of predators to feast on him when the bones of the earth failed to claim him so many times before. A clever lycan had found a nice open spot to wedge its claws in and pull his guts out to munch on, another tore unceremoniously through to the same effect, and his visions of the witch were nothing but a pleasant mirage his brain had decided to afford him, a small mercy as he bid his consciousness goodbye at long last.

Tree tops and the dark sky are all he sees when he opens his eyes. At least he’d go in style, he thought with a snicker, and the hallucinations of her hands on him just like he’d fantasized spurred something within and made him stand to attention. What a fitting end, open and spilled like a bag of grain, guts wrapped around the papers he had brought with like an exotic crimson ribbon, and the biggest hard-on he had ever had.

[hellodahliah]

8,28,47 for Delphi (I know you posted some of her backstory, but I’m curious to know more)

@1o8percent i’m so happy you’re interested in delphi and her story. this was so fun for me to write and it also made me so excited to share more about her and her life. thank you for the ask, dear 🥺❤️

8. What is their back story?

so delphi is the oldest sibling of two and her family is a mix between normal people and spellcasters. her mother, sybil, came from a very noble spellcaster family. sybil’s parents did not approve of her marriage to her father, jacob. he was not from a wealthy family, and he was not either a spellcaster. they were afraid of what he would do, if he found out about them and their abilities.

for a long time sybil and her family had to hide their abilities and true selves from the world in fear of being hunted down by paranormal hunters. spellcasters, vampires and other occults had struggled with oppression and hunters for a very long time, luckily people aren't that judgmental and afraid of occults anymore that they would want to hunt them down. however, paranormal hunters still exist, and there's always a reason to be careful. 

the name spellcaster has with time become more and more used instead of witch. it sounds less wicked and scary.

so jacob had to work hard to gain sybil’s parents approval and trust. still when they figured out he was not a bad person they would remain wary around him, refusing to give their blessing for him to marry her. until one accident where he finally learnt the true nature of her family. it all happened during a fishing trip to granite falls, where they had rented a boat together and jacob, had caught a big fish that was strong enough that made them both fall out the boat. in panic and because of her instincts, sybil used her abilities to stop their fall mid air. the next moment their boat is ashore filled with fish. and jacob is sitting there looking at her with a surprised expression. she tries to erase his memories of everything. but he wouldn't let her, he tells her he wouldn't care less if she is a spellcaster or not.

so with a long meeting between her parents, sybil and jacob are finally given their blessings to marry.

so a little more than a year later delphi is born. sybil gave her the name delphine because she thought she sounded like a dolphin when she cried and her parents' honeymoon was spent in sulani where they swam together with the dolphins.

four years later her brother gideon was born. delphi and gideon couldn't be more different from each other. delphi was more quiet and kept to herself, while gideon loved to spend time with friends and bike around the neighborhood and he always found himself in trouble. but he was not a mean person or a troublemaker, just very active and adventurous. gideon was very interested in magic and he really wanted to become a wizard when he grew old. delphi again was terrified of magic, mostly because she struggled with controlling her powers resulting in scary incidents for her. she made her own bike fly at one time when she was about to fall of from it it. delphi was interested in art, animals and fashion. her dream was to become a fashion designer.

gideon and delphi got along well, and would do things together. she didn't have many friends, because she was more quiet and reserved so he would sometimes invite her to hang out with him or his friends. and they would also do stuff together like going to cinemas etc. but when her powers grew stronger and his never developed he grew more insecure and bitter around her. he spent less time with her and started to shut her out from his life. this caused a rift in their relationship that sadly still has to be fixed.

delphi spent more time at the magic realm with her mom, and she learnt how to control her powers. spending time at the magic realm made her realize that magic is not that scary after all ( if you can control it ). she started to become more interested in fortunetelling and what kind of things was found in the shop in caster's alley. she started to collect tarot cards.

delphi became more and more invested in the skill of fortunetelling, and she would sometimes fortune tell her classmates. or more likely it went like this: they found her sitting around, practicing with her tarot decks, which they found to be super cool, so they bombarded her with questions and then asked her to fortune tell them.

delphi met her husband in high school. he had a lot of friends, and was always surrounded by people. they met each other in art class, he found her style super unique. ( she kind of had her abstract painting period back then ) he had decided ( *cough* felt pressured to *cough* ) pick up art. his parents were art critics and their world revolved around art. he liked art, but he was more interested in tattoos and street art ( which his parents thought was trashy ). but he was even more interested in nature and biology. he loved insects. so that was what delphi and him bonded over. delphi loved butterflies, and he liked all sorts of insects. they spent more time with each other, they became friends and then feelings turned into something more. however none of them dared to confess to the other.

they ended up at different universities, he went to foxbury to study biology and physics as a minor subject while delphi studied art history and business in britechester.as time spent they started to drift apart, finding new friends at university etc. they were both living their lives, doing their own things. 

delphi ended up in a not so healthy relationship, which ended horribly. afterwards she struggled a bit with her mental health and she started to listen more to her gut feelings about people. she starts to over analyze everything and everyone and becomes more paranoid. 

her husband noticed a difference in her personality, and confronted her about it. he was worried. that’s where he confesses he really loved her and that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. they doesn’t start to date yet, because it is too soon after the break up... both of them are straight out of broken relationships. they spends a lot more time with each other. and he eventually moves in with her more like him spending so much time at her place that all his things eventually end up there. 

they ended up marrying each other and they had two children cosima and roy. these two also have a four year gap between them. delphi worries her children will face similar problems her and gideon had. so she makes sure they get along well with each other. she plans a lot of family activities. sundays are usual called family day, meant to spend with family alone. 

delphi starts to think more and more about opening a mystic shop. it is dangerous and risky because she risks outing herself as a spellcaster if she isn’t being careful. however, more and more people are becoming accepting around the occult and finds it super cool instead.

occult sims don’t have that many places/shops that sell things they need to survive like plasma fruits, plasma packs, antidotes towards wolfsbane etc. 

when her husband died delphi struggled a lot. her family had a rough year. dealing with the loss of a parent for her children and a loss of a husband. her husband was a very strong and brave person, he was in fact the family's pillar of strength and her biggest cheerleader. he helped her with her business he even supported her when she opened up about wanting to make business with her tarot.

her business life hasn’t been doing that well. she had to close her shop in willow creek due to the hectic year and instead she is welcoming customers to her home. however, when the time is right she’ll consider re-opening the shop again. 

28. How do they get out of a difficult situation?

this depends on the situation. she kind of has a tendency to freeze and shut down during stressful situations. her husband was the one who usually leapt in and kept his head cold. now with him gone she has to navigate through the situations herself. 

normally delphi always put the needs of her children above her own, so they wouldn't suffer the consequences of the difficult situation. she would ask herself what her husband or someone she knows would do in her place. then her mind usually starts to roll and then she comes to the solution... 

47. are they quick to judge?

she isn't judgmental, but she can easily pick up on other people's auras and vibes if they are good people or not or if they are out to get something from her. 

[josmarney23]

Miraculous Ladybug: Future Madness

Ok....So ... I've been thinking about this idea for a long time and it would be the first time I published a concrete and concise idea like this, even more so for a very direct fandom such as the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. It should be clarified that this is an IDEA or CONCEPT, it is not something real.

Making that clear, I continue to continue.

This idea for a video game based on the Miraculous Ladybug universe came up while I was trying to remaster the TMNT: Turtles In Time soundtrack (the Arcade version, not the SNES version).

At first I started as a very basic idea but then it evolved to the concept that I want to share with you, but before continuing, I must first divide the content into parts, to better understand how I imagine a Miraculous Ladybug video game would be.

1. THE GAMEPLAY:

Introducing you to my crazy idea, we have the most important and crucial thing, the gameplay.

This video game, from my perspective, I feel that it would be a Beat 'Em Up, a classic genre of games like Streets Of Rage, Final Fight, Kunio-Kun Saga, Double Dragon, etc. Its specific gameplay would drink a lot from the aforementioned games but would also add mechanics such as, for example, the semi-3D scenes of TMNT: Turtles In Time from the SNES and a bit of the gameplay of Cadillacs and Dinosaurs.

The number of players would be 4 for a maximum of 4 characters and among the main controllable characters would be:

-Marinette (Ladybug)

-Adrien (Chat Noir)

-Kagami (Ryuko)

-Nino (Carapace)

Later, more playable characters and surprises would be unlocked.

The scenarios would have to be a little more elaborate and long than the average Beat 'Em Up, to encourage exploration but without too much open world, to find a balance between the old arcade gameplay Beat' Em Up and the new exploration sensation of the more Recent Beat 'Em Up like Streets Of Rage 4 or River City Girls.

2. THE HISTORY:

The story is why I really do this blog and this idea, since, as I said previously, it was something that evolved over time and now it is somewhat complex.

To sum up the whole general plot, the game begins with the player controlling Ladybug and her friends (Chat Noir, Carapace and Ryuko) to fight Lila and Shadowmoth (Before Hawkmoth) and the army of minions that Lila is creating with her powers of Volpina to wreak havoc and keep the heroes busy, as well as separated so she can have a chance to get hold of the Miraculous from Ladybug and Chat Noir.

The player finishes the introductory level and defeats these two bosses while getting used to the gameplay. Once Shadowmoth is defeated along with Lila, the heroes are about to unmask our villain but then a time portal appears and a very badly wounded Bunnyx and a mysterious villain who has the same powers as Shadowmoth but still leaves almost flying. notorious much stronger than the mentioned one. The villain shows her strength despite being very hurt, making it clear how strong she is, in order to take Bunnyx through the portal. The heroes chase the villain through the portal to end up in an alternate universe / future where this villain controls Paris from the shadows, with her akumas powered by microtechnology that allow her to keep akumatized who will be the game's zone bosses.

The heroes thus, would meet the very limited and small resistance whose leaders would be a mysterious heroine who would call herself "Savage Rouge" and an aging Gabriel Agreste. After some somewhat limited and mysterious explanations, the heroes would go to work to defeat each boss who controls an area of ​​the City of Paris.

While the player defeats each boss and deakumatizes them, little by little it is discovered that each boss is actually a friend and acquaintance of our heroes and they are discovering little by little things of this alternate future, the mysterious villain, Lady Darkmoth, as they know her, is healing her wounds and gaining more energy in her secret and private laboratory while her two mysterious assistants are taking care that the " government "of his lady and boss does not fall apart.

Once the heroes have managed to free almost all of Paris from the control of Lady Darkmoth, the heroes in their hiding place of the resistance are celebrating without knowing that one of their friends has a tracker that reveals the location to the villain, to top it off the mysterious villain is already completely healthy and with more power than before. Lady Darkmoth takes advantage of the fact that everyone is celebrating the victory to give a wild surprise with hers, two mysterious helpers of hers. Lady Darkmoth sends her assistants to take care of the resistance members and who were deakumatized while Lady Darkmoth takes care of Ladybug, Chat Noir, Carapace, Kagami, Savage Rouge, Gabriel Agreste and Emilie Di Vanille (who in this alternate future has been saved and awakened by Ladybug and has separated from Gabriel Agreste), defeating everyone with great ease, being only Emilie, Lila and Gabriel who end up giving her the most fight but defeating them in the end. Lady Darkmoth reveals to heroes the truth about who Gabriel Agreste is and reveals the identity of Savage Rouge, being neither more nor less than Lila Rossi. After that she would reveal her true identity, Emma Duppain-Agreste, the middle daughter of Marinette Duppain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste.

Emma would charge a powerful attack with which she would destroy the base of the resistance, taking with her Gabriel, Emilie and Lila, thinking that with her great charged attack she managed to kill the heroes, who have been narrowly saved.

The heroes and the rebels who were left alive decide to go to the secret facilities following the villain, taking advantage of a trace that the villain's power generates and that they have just discovered to their secret laboratories, waging a tough battle against the huge arsenal of sentimonsters modified with Futuristic technology that Emma has at her disposal. There the heroes manage to enter the depths of the secret laboratory and free Gabriel, Alyx, Lila and Emilie, Lila being the only conscious one and which explains that Emma became the villain they know because of the Marinette of the future. denied her middle daughter being a superhero for fear that all her children could end up hurt or even traumatized as she suffered with that stressful life, taking it to somewhat radical extremes that ended up taking Emma away from her mother and causing her to she became more friends with Lila, which little by little would end up giving her the wrong ideas. Lila would tell them that Emma would end up misinterpreting an advice that she would give to a very moody and angry Emma and would end up attacking her parents when they were off guard, thereby assuming the blame as well and that for that she had taken the mantle of Savage Rouge , to at least try to repair the damage, freeing Gabriel Agreste from jail so that he could also help him by his knowledge of the Miraculous. After the explanation, the heroes go to try to defeat Emma before she carries out her plan to expand her control to more cities in the world but in it they face the mysterious helpers who turn out to be crazed and adult versions of Marinette and Adrien, which were used by Emma as guinea pigs to perfect her mecha akumas to control people by way of revenge.

The heroes finally arrive with Emma and fight her but in the middle of the first fight Emma cheats using an unfinished special machine to greatly weaken the heroes until Lila intervenes and sacrifices herself to expose the weak point of the girl. Emma's machine and dies, causing the heroes to overcome the final battle, defeating the young villain, who survives weakened and Ladybug and her friends destroy the laboratory while taking Emma and the others who were inside the laboratory. Emma is imprisoned for life like Gabriel (who must pay her perpetual sentence). Ladybug and the heroes are dedicated to helping rebuild the Paris of the alternate future but are later taken by a Bunnyx recovered in time, but not before Marinette writing on a paper what mistakes she should not make in the future (without revealing much of his alternate future or what he has experienced in the game). Bunnyx takes them back in time after erasing them all from her memory and ends the story.

Yes, yes, I know, the story is very long, but that does not prevent it from being used in a game and even more so in a Beat 'Em Up game. It would just be a matter of simplifying a few things. Let me know in the comments if you like the story or your suggestions.

3. THE MUSIC:

The music would have to be a fusion of styles that would be based on the musical style of the TMNT game: Turtles In Time (Arcade Version) with some musical ideas from some games like Sega's Out Run (Arcade) or some works by composer Luke McQueen.

Here is some of his best works:

(This will be a perfect Older Akumatized Chloe Level)

(Older Akumatized Chloe Boss Theme or Theme 2)

(This Would be a Perfect Akumatized Older Luka Boss Theme)

(This will be a Cementary Level Theme)

(This will be a perfect Police Station Theme Level)

4. UNLOCKABLE EXTRAS:

For this part, I got to think about what I could put as unlockable content (I don't like DLC, I prefer unlockable content and that the game is worth the money it demands). These would be the unlockables of my hypothetical game:

-Unlock characters and kwamis for heroes but post-campaign (New Game +)

-Small Playable Campaign where we explore the perspective of Gabriel, Lila and two rebellious characters that in the future will end up becoming the Ladybug and Chat Noir.

-An art gallery where you can see the concept arts of the series and the video game.

-Small Playable Campaign where we can play as Emma Agreste when she tries to be Ladybug (part of the story that tells you different characters in the base campaign) and her friends, who only two survived to be akumatized in the future by Emma, ​​the other he died and was a major factor in Emma's fall from grace.

-Extra soundtrack but in SNES and Sega Genesis version.

-A small animated mini series that explains in detail the one that led to all the characters of the alternate future ending up as they were.

-Play maybe a little glimpse into Gabriel and Emilie's past.

5. VISUAL STYLE:

I have thought of the visual style in a very pixel art style but that borders on the almost cartoonish HD, something similar to the beautiful Pixel Art that was used for SNK's King Of Fighters XIII and the pixel art style that will be used for the new one. game that will arrive this year from the Ninja Turtles (Here are some videos to give you an idea of the visual style: https://youtu.be/yyMjlO5Ao7M and https://youtu.be/GemOAwU-9fo)

Obviously the level design would have to adjust to imagine a futuristic half Paris with things like the famous Hoverboards (Flying Skateboards) or flying cars, drones and a long etc.

I thinks this is all folks. This idea from a hypothetical videogame of Miraculous Ladybug have so much time in my crazy mind and I hope you like it. Give me your suggestions and your critics. I hear you.

[alinasankt]

      𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

      ALINA STARKOV  ! 

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  :

full  name  :  alina  starkov. nickname(s),  aliases,  etc  :  none  (  aurora  )  /  the  sun  summoner,  sankta  alina,  etc  (  canon  ). gender  identity  :  non  binary,  she  /  her. date  of  birth  :  august  8th. sexual  orientation  :  pansexual  panromantic. occupation  :  cartographer. parent(s)  :  oleska  &  lizabeta  starkov  (  aurora  )  /  unknown  (  canon  ). sibling(s)  :  none,  within  aurora  &  within  canon. children  :  none,  within  aurora  &  within  canon. pet(s):  none. height  :  five  foot  three  inches. hair  color  :  brown  (  aurora,  currently  )  /  white  (  canon  ). eye  color  :  brown.

𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄  𝐒𝐎  𝐅𝐀𝐑  ?

ONCE,  she  was  a  daughter.  only.  beloved.  born  to  russian  immigrants  who  sought  a  better  life.  alina  starkov  had  a  mother  with  eyes  the  color  of  molten  gold  and  soft  fingers,  the  kind  that  never  tug  too  roughly  &  a  father  with  strong  workers  arms,  best  used  for  hard  labour  &  carrying  her  on  his  back  at  the  end  of  a  young  day.  they  laughed  a  lot.  they  loved  more.  they  died  when  she  was  too  young  for  them  to  know  who  the  person  she  would  become,  and  she  hopes  that  they’d  be  proud  of  them. 

THEIR  CHILDHOOD  IS  LIVED  OUT  OF  A  SUITCASE.  she  is  moved  from  place  to  place.  distant  family  can  spare  a  few  months  for  her,  at  a  time,  but  she  is  always  reminded  not  to  get  too  comfortable.  her  parents  are  gone  &  she  never  knew  them,  really,  so  she  doesn’t  feel  their  absence  as  much  as  she  does  the  phantom  limb  at  her  side  where  she  feels  someone  once  existed,  someone  special,  warm,  solid  &  real  -  in  lieu  of  the  comfort  they  would  provide  if  only  she  could  find  them,  alina  drowns  in  knowledge.  she  reads  large  books  meant  for  those  her  senior.  she  learns  the  roads  between  houses  that  will  never  be  her  home,  learns  the  towns,  maps  them  out  in  her  mind  &  always  knows  the  best  way  back.  she  is  always  searching.  she  never  knows  what  for.

THEN,  she  is  just  a  little  girl  with  big  dreams  inside  her  head  &  large  words  inside  her  mouth.  she’s  afraid  of  the  dark  and  she  doesn’t  know   why,  only  that  sometimes  in  the  middle  of  a  storm,  her  instinct  is  to  turn  on  the  light,  though  it’s  never  the  lightswitch  on  the  wall.  she  never  knows  stability,  but  that’s  okay.  she  is  not  the  beautiful  flower,  carefully  tended  &  grown.  she  is  the  weed  that  sprouts  wherever  she  is  put,  relentless.  

NOW,  she  is  just  alina  starkov.  she  is  no  one’s  daughter,  sister,  right  hand  or  childhood  friend.  a  cartographer  with  an  artists  touch.  lonely  in  the  eyes,  weak  around  the  edges,  always  a  little  sickly,  but  unstoppable  all  the  same.  

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓  𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓  ?

she  is  going  to  die  wrapped  in  the  devil’s  arms  &  it  feels  like  a  good  way  to  go.  noble,  even.  right.  she  is  going  to  die  and  she  made  it  happen,  it  was  her  fault,  her  choice,  and  why  does  she  feel  like  she’s  had  so  few  of  those,  in  her  life  ?  their  eyes  (  brown  like  the  earth  that  is  crumbling  around  them,  suffocating,  absolute  /  blue  like  the  sky  she  wishes  she  could  see  one  last  time,  beautiful,  endless  )  meet  and  for  the  first  time,  she  sees  his  fear  looking  back  at  her.  good.  let  him  be  afraid.  let  him  know  what  it  feels  like  to  be  hunted.  the  world  is  turning  on  its  AXIS,  it  is  crumbling  around  them,  falling  apart,  and  maybe  this  (  RUINATION  )  is  all  that  they  were  ever  good  for.  

there  is  darkness.  there  are  monsters  screaming  within  it  (  &  a  pain  deep  in  her  shoulder,  an  answering  cry  ).  there  is  only  one  thing  stronger  and  she  knows  that  she  is  it,  that  this  is  the  best  that  she  can  offer,  that  even  if  the  light  goes  out  and  takes  her  with  it,  she’ll  be  bringing  him  along  for  the  ride.  is  she  terrified  or  exhilarated  by  that  thought  ?  

she  is  going  to  die  wrapped  in  the  devil’s  arms  and  she  knows  with  complete  certainty  that  though  they  stand  together  at  the  end  of  this  world,  she  is  going  to  be  the  first  to  go.  her  smile  is  something  savage.  something  fanged.  something  vicious.  because  the  boy  is  afraid  but  not  just  for  himself,  and  before  he  joins  her,  he  will  have  to  lose  her.  good.  let  him  watch  the  light  fade  from  her  eyes.  let  him  see  salvation  die.  let  him  know  what  it  means  to  suffer.  if  ruination  is  all  they  can  ever  be,  let  her  be  his  reckoning.

𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓  𝐅𝐄𝐖  𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒  ?

SHE’S  DONE  THIS  ALREADY.  she  doesn’t  know  when,  she  has  no  idea  how,  but  alina  starkov  has  the  most  curious  sense  of  deja  vu.  her  nightmares  feel  like  home.  her  life  feels  like  a  lie.  there  is  something  to  discover,  here.  there  is  something  to  uncover,  something  hidden  not  far  from  view,  and  somehow  she  knows  that  this  is  not  the  first  time  that  the  truth  of  who  she  is  has  been  put  under  lock  &  key.  there  is  something  crudely  comforting  in  that  familiarity.  she  should  be  scared  of  it,  she  should  stop  picking  at  the  raw  wound  that  are  her  misted  memories,  but  like  the  instinct  to  push  &  make  a  bruise  go  pale  white,  alina  cannot  help  but  pry.    

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄  ?

n  /  a.  

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone - Chapter 36

Title: Empty

Warnings: profanity, some angst

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @alievans007​

He watches her as she stands in front of the Christmas tree; countless strings of light bathing pale, smooth skin in a multicoloured glow. She’s at her most beautiful during moments like this; enjoying silence and the relief and relaxation that comes with a warm and comfy house, clad in an oversized plaid nightshirt and her hair slightly damp from a much needed and deserved soak in the tub. She’s always been naturally beautiful; appearing much younger than her actual age and make up only taking away from her features instead of accenting or showcasing them. She’d been perfectly at home in Australia right from the start and had easily adapted to -and adopted- the casual ‘beach’ vibe; constantly bare foot and clad in tanks and shorts with wind swept hair and sun kissed cheeks and the hint of salt lingering on her skin.

While she’d been breathtaking from the very moment he’d laid eyes on her, she’s only become even more so over the years; his love for her growing with each passing day and bringing with it a new found wonderment for every inch of her. Body thicker now; cheeks rounder, breasts fuller, hips wider and curves in all the right places. It’s an appreciation made stronger by not only a strong and seemingly unbreakable bond, but a friendship as well; his truest and most loyal confidant and the keeper of his deepest and darkest secrets and his biggest and most fervent supporter. And the mother of his children. Willingly giving him the large brood that he so desperately had graved; selflessly sacrificing her own body and allowing it to become a safe haven for all the incredible little human beings that would grow and thrive inside of her. Watching someone grow bigger with your child and then become a mother brings on a whole new level of adoration and respect; putting them even higher on the pedestal that you long ago constructed for them.

Her body sways from side to side; slowly and rhythmically in an attempt to keep Tabby quiet and content. The baby had spent the better part of an hour extremely unsettled; fussy and irritable as she continued to fight sleep without the comfort of either parent. They’d offered to keep both children and Ovi and Riya had jumped at the chance; planning on coffee and dessert at an all night cafe close to their home in Queens. With two little ones and his hectic and overwhelming schedule at the hospital, it makes it nearly impossible for them to get any alone time together; much needed considering the several months of non stop wedding planning and the stress and headaches that had accompanied it. Ovi would return for his daughters -and for breakfast with the family- in the morning; Tabby accompanying him and Tanner to the American Museum of Natural History while Micki got to enjoy time with grandpa and lunch and a shopping spree at the American Doll store.

The time together as a family is rare; thousands of miles and a handful of different time zones separating them. Moving to New York City simply out of the question; neither Tyler or any of the kids fully able to get comfortable and happy in a much bigger and chaotic place. Australia is where their hearts are; their dream home tucked away at the end of a gravel street and accompanied by acres of both forest and beach. It’s quiet and it’s relatively secluded; giving him the privacy that he craves and the sense of the security that he needs in regards to his family. And while Esme had spent years living in the Big Apple and had loved her time there and once dreamed endlessly about going back and finding an area to settle down in, those feelings have long dissipated. Content with simply visiting a handful of times throughout the year; getting to experience the different seasons and enjoying the magic of a white Christmas and loving the convenience of being somewhere so vast and populated.

He had mentioned it a time or two; perhaps moving back to the States and calling the brownstone their permanent residence while using their home in Cooktown as their ‘getaway’ spot. But she’d vehemently argued against it; not keen on the idea of permanently living in her country of origin. Her happiness and her own sense of peace long ago settled Down Under; falling in love with the people and experiencing genuine awe and wonderment with every stunning sunset and brilliant sunrise. It’s where her heart is. Where it always HAS been. She left it behind years ago when they’d been forced to flee; her happiness lingering in that little two bedroom apartment that they’d called home. It hadn’t been much; the rooms shockingly small and filled with second hand furniture. But it’s where their love for each other had been fully discovered; getting to know each other -outside of sex- while he recovered from the wounds suffered in Dhaka and she’d been growing and nurturing their child inside of her.

Most of all, he’d enjoyed having her -the love of his life- in his homeland; marvelling at how she so effortlessly blended in, proud of how not only the locals so willingly and easily accepting and falling in love with her, but how she handled being thousands of miles away from her own home. Although he was -and still is- notoriously private and withdrawn, she made acquaintances so easily; Aussies quickly drawn to that bubbly personality and that cheerful and positive outlook on life despite everything she’d been through. She’d taken the place by storm; falling in love with her new life and thriving in the environment and getting up every day ready to tackle the mountain of change just dropped into her lap. Her dreams still haunted by what had taken place in Bangladesh, but her heart still so open and accepting; taking every opportunity to explore everything around her and quickly returning to loving life and everything in it. And even on the hardest of days, she’d never fail to make him smile. The way she’d giggle when learning all the slang words or how her nose would crinkle in disgust and she’d give a long, drawn out ‘ewwww’ whenever he attempted to turn her into a Vegemite lover. The fascination in her eyes whenever they’d hit up a zoo or a wildlife reserve and she’d get to come face to face with some of Australia’s most famous of creatures; crying when she got to hold an orphaned koala and then staring in absolute amazement when a kangaroo Joey hopped over and ate goodies straight out of her hand. Even at the beach she was like a little kid on Christmas morning; not quite enjoying the feeling of the sand between her toes, but marvelling at the expanse of the ocean and the way the sunlight sparkled on the water.

Even now she remains in awe of the life she’d been given; he still sees that disbelief that captures her face during a particularly stunning sunset. Mesmerized -and even moved to tears- by the colours; vivid shades of purple, pink and orange. Always expressing how grateful she is. In awe that she’d been given such an amazing opportunity; an incredible life in a beautiful place with someone that loves and worships her and children that absolutely adore her.

He doesn’t speak as he joins her; placing both hands on her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. He savours the moment. Eyes closed and his palms running up and down her arms; face buried in her hair as he deeply inhales the familiar yet still alluring scent that clings to those dark, damp tresses. And with a peck to the cheek he steps alongside of her; hand moving to her shoulder as he tucks her tightly into her side.

“She okay?”

Esme nods, then smiles down at the little one resting along her arm. Still fighting sleep but quiet and content; snuggled tightly into her grandmother’s chest and wrapped tightly in Addie’s well loved blanket. “She is now. You just had a bit of a hard time, didn’t you Tabby. You were just missing momma.”

He moves his hand down and settles it on her hip. Reaching across her with the other, a callused palm rests gently on the top of the baby’s head; his thumb smoothly and repeatedly brushing against her brow. Tabby gives a content sigh and long yawn in response; enormous brown eyes -constantly fluttering as they continue their valiant battle to stay open- staring up at him.

Esme tugs the faded and tattered blanket upwards, smoothing it around Tabby's tiny body.

“Everyone asleep?”

“The oldest are still awake. I told them to keep it down. So they wouldn’t wake the littles up. I might have threatened them a couple times; told them I’d take their tablets away AND throw them...the kids...not the iPads...out into the snow.”

“Might work for a little bit. I think they’re used to you by now ; they know daddy is full of empty threats.”

“Guess it will really shock the shit out of them when I finally do act on it and out they go.”

“I’ll see it when I believe it. I’ll probably be the one that snaps first and DOES offer them as sacrifices to the sharks.”

“That threat held in there longer than I thought it would. We still have three that fall for it.”

“Let’s hope it continues for a little while more. She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Esme muses, beaming down at the baby and then up at him. “Absolutely perfect.”

“She is,” he agrees, and places a lingering kiss to his wife’s temple.

“And so beautiful,” she looks down at their granddaughter once more. “Just like her mommy.”

“And like her grandma.”

She gives a quiet laugh and looks up at him. It’s always there; all that love and adoration and pride that she possesses for him. It never fails to make his breath catch; overwhelmed by the amount of blind faith and trust that she holds for him. “As much as I appreciate you feeding my ego, that compliment would only work if we were biologically related.”

“Doesn’t matter, babe. You’re beautiful. And I love you. So fucking much.”

“Christmas time always gets you right in the feels, doesn’t it,” she teases, and then moves to stand in front of him; body pressed tightly into his and the back of her head resting against his chest.

“Not just Christmas lately. A lot of things, it seems.”

“I like it. When you’re sweet and sappy.” She tilts her head back to look up at him, a soft smile curving her lips. “And adorable.”

“You know, I SHOULD divorce you for that. Of all the insults you’ve hurled at me…”

“I swear you’d rather me call you a dick head or a shit for brains. Accept it, you’re adorable. You will never, EVER, change my mind. And divorce me? You’d never. You’d miss me way too much. You’d miss me and all my bullshit.”

“I actually would. Would you miss mine? All my crap?”

“I don’t know about that. You CAN be really tiring.”

He frowns.

“I’m kidding. I would take every single ounce of your bullshit over not having you around. You’re relatively tame, considering. Everything you've been through? All the shit handed to you since you were a kid? You could be A LOT worse.”

“That’s a compliment, yeah? I THINK that’s a compliment.”

“It definitely is. When I think about what you've been through? From the time you were little until now? It’s remarkable. That you’re as normal and sane as you are.”

Smirking, he leans down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Did you really put me and normal and sane in the same sentence?”

“Considering what your father did to you, being in the army and out there in war zones, AND being a mercenary? Babe, you’re lucky to be how you are. You realize that, right? That you could be SO much worse. You could have totally gone in another direction; when it comes to your personal life. You could have easily turned out violent and aggressive and a complete prick. You know how many times I saw that? You know how many mercenaries I came in contact that were horrible, horrible people? Ninety nine percent of them. You? You were...ARE...a total study in contradiction.”

“I guess I never thought about it that way. How much worse things could be. I could be.”

“You could have turned out to be the worst case scenario. You could have been one those that actually LOVED killing other people. Just thrived and got off on the violence and the bloodshed. You could have turned out to be like Gaspar.”

“That’s a little...unsettling.”

“Right? He was nuts. A total sociopath. Look how quick he was to backstab you! Someone he’d known for years! Someone who’d saved his life! He was ready to kill you. To get to me and Ovi. All because you WEREN’T like him. And don’t even get me started on that whole killing doves thing. DOVES. The bird of peace! What the hell kind of person kills THEM?”

“A pretty messed up one.”

“My point exactly. He WAS messed up. Huge. And you could have so easily gone that way. Especially hanging around him. Having him for a friend? That could have been bad news.”

“First off, he wasn’t really what I’d call a friend. It's not like I saw him outside of work. I never visited him, he never visited me, we never talked on the phone or texted or anything like that. Any interaction I had with him was done on the job. And when I WAS around him? I was drunk. That’s what we had in common. Getting wasted.”

“The way he acted and the way he talked, you would have thought you’d been friends since the two of you were in diapers. I still can’t believe he screwed you like he did. You SAVED his ass. And that’s how repays you? Like what the hell?”

“Babe, it’s a long time ago. And yeah, it sucks. It was a bitch move on his part. But I was never, EVER, going to go along with what he wanted.”

“I only asked that once. Five years ago. If you even considered it for a second. I never meant to suggest you were that person Tyler. And I still feel like shit for that. I never meant to hurt you. And I know what I said did. And I’m still sorry I ever said it.”

“Trust me, there’s a long list of things I’m sorry for. Things that I kick myself in the ass for every day. I regret EVER taking you and the kid there.”

“You were just doing what you thought was best. We didn’t really have options, did we. There was really nowhere else for us to go. No way you could have known what he was going to do. It’s not your fault, Tyler. The way things ended up. I’ve never blamed you for any of it.”

“I know.” Curling his arm around her waist, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Let’s stop this where it is, yeah? There’s no need to talk about it. It was thirteen years ago almost. And I know you’re still pissed and you’re having a hard time getting over some of the stuff that happened. I get it. There’s still shit that bothers me. But can we at least let it lie for now? Until we get home? And bring this all up at therapy? That’s the place it needs to be brought up, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. This is definitely not the place and certainly not the time. Not when I’ve got this little sweetie with me.” She smiles down at the baby in her arms; body commencing its slow and smooth swaying. And she places a hand on Tabby’s stomach; all five fingers immediately curling around one of hers. “He did good, huh? Ovi?”

Tightening his hold on her, he rests his chin on the top of her head. “He did real good. He’s come a long way that’s for sure.”

“He really has. He’s a man now. With his own family. He’s going to be a DOCTOR. Sometimes it seems like just yesterday; trying to keep him calm in that factory in Dhaka. Now he’s living in Queens and he’s got a soon to be wife and two beautiful little girls. How did that happen? How did he grow up so fast? It’s like I blinked and he went from boy to man.”

“It’s been almost thirteen years, Me. As hard as that is to believe. And a lot’s happened in that thirteen years.”

“You’re not kidding me. If someone had told me, when I walked out of your place, that you were going to go from being my fake husband to my real one? I would have told them they were nuts. That was so not on my radar; getting into a serious relationship, never mind MARRYING someone.”

He nuzzles the tip of his nose against her ear, then presses a kiss to the lobe. “I knew it. You really did just want me for my body. Sex. That’s all I was to you. A piece of ass.”

“Maybe at first,” she admits, and then giggles when he playfully nips at the side of her neck. “But somewhere between the third and sixth orgasm, I realized that hey, maybe there IS something to be had out of all this.”

“So basically you came to that on the first day. Because if I do remember correctly, we didn’t just get down to business once. And you were on your fifth orgasm by the second round, so…”

“I realized very quickly that there was something different about you. Something that you didn’t let many people see. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met on the job. Especially other mercenaries. You were special, Tyler Rake. I recognized that pretty early on.”

“Man, your standards really WERE low.”

“My standards happened to be very high, thank you very much. Which is why I went on my eighteen month sexual sabbatical after Mark. So what does that tell you? You had to do something awesome to get me to break. And you broke me right quick, let me tell you. I actually thought maybe you would break me a couple times, actually. Physically speaking.”

“You shocked me. That someone so tiny could take so much. From a guy so much bigger. You weren’t scared? Not once? Not even when I grabbed you by the neck?”

“Nope. I’ve never had a reason to be scared of you. Not even back then. I saw it in your eyes; you weren’t trying to hurt me. You were trying to protect yourself. You didn’t want me getting too close. And you didn’t want to feel anything. YOU were the one that was scared..”

“I was,” he admits. “It scared the hell out of me. That I WAS feeling things for you. Especially that quick. I never thought it was possible. To be that into someone so fast. Always thought was bullshit when I heard people talk about it. Then I met you. All five foot nothing and a buck twenty soaking wet. And boy did you turn my world upside down.”

She smiles and turns her face into his, tip of her nose pressed into the side of his. “In all the best ways though, right?”

“Nothing but the best, Me. Smartest thing I ever did? Agree to that job.”

“I told Ovi the same thing tonight. That it was the smartest decision I’ve ever made. I mean, it was crazy and it was weird and it was twisted, but it led me somewhere...and to SOMEONE...so beautiful and amazing. I don’t regret a single second, Tyler. Or any of the decisions I made. It was the best thing I ever did. YOU’RE the best thing I ever did.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are we talking just sexually or…?”

She laughs. “You totally blew it out of the water. Sexually speaking. And you continue to you ALL the time. But I mean in EVERY way. You’re everything I could have ever asked for. In a best friend, a partner, a husband, a baby daddy. You just came into my life and everything changed. I changed. It’s all been worth it. Even the bad times.”

“You know how you always say I have a habit of making you cry at the holidays? You're giving me a run for my money.”

“Even men deserve to hear all that mushy stuff. No matter how big and strong and how bad ass they are. And you, husband, re very big and strong and bad ass. And I love every damn inch of you.”

“Baby, I love you.” Tears sparkle in his eyes as he presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “And thank you; I DID need to hear all that.”

“I should tell you more often. And I would. If I wasn’t afraid your head would get too big to fit through the door.”

“Always following up the corny shit with some shitty, smart ass comment. That’s my girl,” He slides his hand under the bottom of his shirt and traces a fingertip around her navel; chuckling when she shivers against him and shoves his hand away.

For several minutes they stand in silence; his arm once more wrapped tightly around her waist and her head resting back against his chest. Both watching the child being rocked in her arms, his hand seemingly even larger and more powerful as it rests upon the baby’s coal black hair; thumb continuing to brush across her forehead.

“Look at the way she watches you.” Esme says. “Look how big her eyes are. How they’re sparkling. What is what with you and babies? They always love you. Our babies could NEVER get enough of you.”

“I don’t know. Voice, maybe?”

“Could be. When you’re not pissed off about something and you’re totally relaxed and comfortable, it’s so deep and so soothing. Soft, even. I used to think about that all the time in Dhaka; how your voice would seem so different when we were in bed together and having those late night chats. YOU’D seem different, actually. You were so calm and you completely let your guard down and you were so...I don’t know...different. You weren’t the guy you were when we were out on the street. Not that there was anything wrong with THAT guy. That guy was insanely sexy and man, could rail me like no other. Just the other guy? The calmer one? He really set the bar high.”

“And now?”

“You’re still him. You’re still Tyler. You still have all the different sides and I still love them. I love them more and more every day.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight? Because I know you can be sappy, but you’re even sappier than usual.”

“I barely had any. I don’t even have the slightest buzz going on. I’m just feeling sentimental, I guess. Seeing how good Ovi is with Riya and the girls and finally coming to terms with him being a daddy and someone’s soon to be husband. It’s just brought up a lot of things. A lot of GOOD things. When it comes to us.”

“Like?”

“Just how we were when we first started out. When we first got married and I was having Millie and we’re living in that little apartment. You were still recovering and still had quite the road ahead of you, but just got your shit together and stood up. You were so good, Tyler. At everything. No matter how much pain you were in or how much you were struggling mentally to get over things. You just shelved your shit so you could be there for me. And our baby.”

“All that mattered to me was you. And our daughter. That’s it.”

“And you showed it. Time and time again. Best damn lamaze partner and labour coach EVER.”

“Even if I almost DID faint?”

“Even then. You were awesome. You were such a good daddy to be. You were so in awe of the whole thing. The way you’d always touch my belly and you’d read surfing magazines to her and you’d go out at three in the morning to get me fast food or ice cream. You never even complained. Well, maybe when you were in the car you did.”

“Honestly? No. I was just so fucking happy to be getting the chance to have another kid that I was enjoying every second. I wasn’t going to take anything for granted. Even middle of the night Maccas runs.”

“I mean it, you know. When I say I couldn’t have asked for a better father for my children. You’ve been incredible. Right from the start. I lucked out, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t know, Me. I think I got you beat in that department. Luck.”

“How about we both agree that we’re lucky? That we BOTH bring some amazing things to the table.”

“I don’t know…”

“We BOTH lucked out. Big time. We definitely both upgraded. From our first marriages.”

“We can definitely agree on that. I certainly made the right decision. When I got up the balls to ask you to marry me. Even if it was in the bathroom.”

“It was perfect. For us.”

“You know what else is perfect? Seeing you with her. Our granddaughter. Makes me think of all the times with our babies. Watching you with them. Thinking how beautiful it was. Being just so in awe of you. Is it wrong I kind of miss it? You with a baby? Even you pregnant?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not wrong at all. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. I mean, I always had issues, but I actually liked being pregnant. I liked watching my body change; my hair thickening and darkening and my boobs and my butt getting bigger.”

He grins and pecks her ear. “That last part was DEFINITELY my favourite.”

“And feeling them move inside of me. I didn’t matter how many times I went through it; it was always so amazing and beautiful to feel them. And you’d always get that dorky smile. That one that’s reserved solely for expectant dads. The one that says ‘hey, look what I did!’. You know, I should have had a t-shirt made for you. With those words on it. And an arrow pointing at my belly.”

“I would have worn it, too. Like I wear that Super Sperm every now and then.”

“I can NOT believe you do that,” she laughs. “It was meant as a joke. Not for you to wear it and be proud of it!”

“But I am proud of it. Of my accomplishment. I knocked you up FIVE times. A total of SEVEN babies. That’s some fucking skill, Me.”

“I don’t know if your boys are skilled or just plain lucky, but I’ll let you have it. Your pride in your handiwork. Congratulations, honey. You came inside of me. Quite the feat.”

“Listen smart ass,” he playfully pinches the sensitive area below her right rib cage. “Can’t you just let me have this? Can’t I have my moment? Those kids are the best thing I’ve ever done. Other than their mum, of course. She’s my favourite thing I’ve ever done.”

“You never miss the opportunity to be dirty do you. I do miss it, you know. Being pregnant, having a baby in the house. It’s kind of bittersweet; knowing it won’t happen again. I spent the better part of seven years pregnant. Starting with Millie and ending with the twins. We had seven kids in a VERY short period of time. It’s kinda hard to get used to; not having an infant or two around.”

“I mean, it COULD happen. We could both get things reversed and just hope for the best.”

“I don’t know if I can do it. If my body can even handle that. I think I’m babied out. As sad as that makes me to admit.”

“We could get a surrogate.”

“That’s a no from me. I know it’s an amazing thing and I admire the women who do it. I really do. But I do NOT like the idea of you having a baby with another woman.”

“You realize I don’t actually get to fuck them, right? I don’t get to actually enjoy the baby making process?”

“Of course I realize that. I just don’t like that idea. I’m not comfortable with it. Your sperm in someone else. Even if it WAS put there by a turkey baster.”

“A turkey baster?” He chuckles. “Is that seriously how it’s done? I do my thing into a cup and…?”

“I don’t know. Something like that I guess. I just can’t deal with that. The thought of your stuff inside of some other woman. Sounds stupid, right? Tell me it’s stupid. That I’m being totally irrational.”

“Actually, I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. If I couldn’t pitch in, I wouldn’t want some guy’s sperm being put into you.”

“Oh it wouldn’t just be put in me. I’d totally sleep with him.”

Tyler scowls. “Excuse me?”

“I’m kidding! You know I’m kidding! Baby, there is no other guy in this world I want to sleep with. You’re the only one I want to do those things with. Why turn around and settle for less when I already have the best? When I’m already married to someone that’s walking sex. A God among men. Only you, Tae. You’re the only one I want to sleep with.”

“Yeah?” He presses a series of kisses along the outer edge of her hair, followed by the length of her jaw. “You want to sleep with me tonight?”

She grins, then sighs when his teeth nip at the side of her throat. “I want to do A LOT of things with you tonight.”

“Oh really? Well in that case…” he places a kiss on her temple, lips lingering as his hand once more slips up the front of her shirt; fingertips grazing along the smooth skin just above the waistband of her pyjama pants. “...maybe we should close the house up for the night and go upstairs.”

“I think that’s a very good idea. Tell you what, I’ll lock everything up and set the alarms. You take your granddaughter and put her to bed. I already set the playpen up for her. In the den.”

“You already have her. Why don’t you do it?”

“Because you have a knack of getting babies off to sleep. You’re a natural. And besides, you doing the whole big, strong man with a baby thing? It totally turns me on.”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” He gently and carefully removes the baby from her arms. Holding Tabby tightly to his chest; a forearm under her bum and a hand on the back of her head.

“Very nice,” Esme enthuses. “Is it wrong that I’m wet for you already?”

He leans in to kiss her. “You’re dirty.”

She lays a hand on the side of his face, and kisses him eagerly in return, pausing when she giggles into his mouth. “You have that effect on me.”

******

“Adoption.”

His voice rumbles deep in his chest; reverberating against her back and tearing her away from the edge of sleep. Their love making had been a welcome change from the nights past. A bruising and punishing pace exchanged for something much slower and attentive; slow, deep thrusts that kept her whimpering in delight and her nails clawing at his back shoulders. Long and languid kisses; little pecks interspersed with the movement of closed mouth upon closed and followed by greedy yet explorative tongues. The degrading names and the filthy words replaced by whispered praises and declarations of love; her cheek cradled in the palm of his hand as he gazed down at her with so much admiration and adoration that it both brought tears to her eyes and took her breath away.

She’d been enjoying the sensation of his naked and sweat slicked body pressed against hers. Her back against the muscled and solid expanse of his chest and one of his thighs wedged between both of hers; a forearm stretched across her pillow and her head resting in the crook of his elbow. A large, strong hand hovering near her stomach; calloused fingertips tracing slow and intricate patterns on the skin. Her body completely sated and so relaxed and secure in his arms that sleep had come on quickly; encouraged by the soft breath that tickled the back of her neck and fluttered her hair.

“It’s what we should do,” he continues, as his index finger draws continuous circles around her navel. “Adopt.”

“Are you seriously back to thinking about that?

“Back to thinking about it? I haven’t STOPPED thinking about it.”

Esme frowns. “You were thinking about adoption while we were…?”

“Not WHILE we were. I did stop for THAT. I do have to concentrate more now, you know. I’m getting old.”

“Oh please…” Esme rolls her eyes. “...how many times have we had sex? In almost thirteen years? You could be fully comatose and still get things done. Muscle memory and all that. And you are NOT getting old. What’s the saying ? You’re only as old as you feel?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? ‘Cause I feel like I’m ninety.”

“You have just as much stamina and enthusiasm now as you did when we met. If not MORE. You’re hardly getting old. What’s gotten into you lately? You’ve been talking about the weirdest things. Getting married again, having another baby, adopting a kid. Are you okay, honey? You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m pretty far from okay. I thought we established that a few days ago.”

“OTHER than that. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is going on with me. It’s just things I’ve been thinking about. Things I want to do. With you.”

She rolls over onto her other side, settling her head on his bicep as she faces him. “Are you going through a midlife crisis? Is that what’s going on here? Last month, you went and got a motorcycle after I finally caved. You went back out into the field. You’ve started talking about wanting to renew our vows and how we could get things reversed and have another baby. Now you’re onto adoption. Is that what all this is? A midlife crisis?”

“No. It’s not. No one lives to be ninety four.”

“A LOT of people live to be ninety four, thank you very much.”

“Well I hate to break it to you, but I won’t be one of them. And nothing’s gotten into me and I’m not going through any kind of crisis. It’s just things that I have on my mind. That I’d like to do with you.”

“Well the baby thing is off the list. I can’t go through the whole process of having things reversed and MAYBE getting pregnant. There’s no guarantee I would and I honestly don’t think my body can handle it again. I had problems with EVERY pregnancy. And each time things got worse and worse. Do we really want to take that chance? That I do get pregnant and something horrible goes wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong with Takota and Brookie. It was the best pregnancy you had. I mean, you had the cramping and the bleeding in the first three months, but after that…”

“They each weighed eight pounds. Or close to it. They were BIG babies for twins. Do you want to take that chance again? That we’d have another set?”

“I highly doubt we would. That seems pretty unlikely.”

“We thought having a second set would be unlikely. But it happened. I had all kinds of problems with Addie; I almost lost her twice and she was early and so tiny when she finally came. I gave birth to Declan on our living room floor. And don’t get me started about TJ and Tanner. Because that was a nightmare. I can’t do it again, Tyler. I just can’t. I can’t put myself through that; procedures to reverse everything and then getting pregnant and something going wrong. I just can’t.”

“Okay, so we don’t go that way. We adopt. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”

“What is going on with you? I used to think it was a breeding kink. And I was more than happy to go along with it and I figured you’d just grow out of it. Now I’m starting to think it’s something more than that. What is your issue? About needing so many offspring? How come every time we agree to stop, you change your mind a few months or a couple years later?”

“I don’t HAVE an issue. Maybe I just like having kids with you. Having a big family. What’s wrong with that? It’s what we wanted, isn’t it? What we agreed on.”

“We agreed on three. Then you changed your mind and talked me into it and we settled on four. I lost one and then we split up and one of our little hookups ending up with me getting pregnant with Declan. He was supposed to be the last. That was it.. And low and behold…”

“I changed my mind and we had Addie.”

“And then Kota and Brookie. Even though we BOTH swore up and down that Peanut would be very last. You even went and got a vasectomy. Didn’t exactly work, did it.”

“That was totally my fault and I owned it.”

“We have our big family. Way bigger than either of us really ever planned on. And now you’re talking about more? This is when we’re supposed to start really enjoying each other. All of our kids are in school; we have the entire house to ourselves. We should be capitalizing on that. Going places together; out to lunch or taking those road trips we like we used to or even spending time on the beach. You can try to teach me to surf. AGAIN. Now that you’re home more…”

“That’s just it, Me. I’M home more. Not you. Me. I spend ninety nine percent of my time working from home. That’s what YOU wanted. You didn’t want me going out anymore; you wanted me home and running the business and not going out there and getting my hands dirty. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?”

She frowns. “I thought we both wanted that. We AGREED on it. You even said yourself that it was the best decision you could have made. Considering how long you had to rehab for and the little setbacks and the complications and having to get your knee redone. You admitted that you would never have been able to go back out. At least not at the frequency and the pace you were used to.”

“I did. I DID say that. And I meant it. I CAN’T keep going the way I was. I’m nowhere near the same guy I was thirteen years ago. Or even five years ago; before Nathan got his fucking hands on me. I CAN’T do it anymore; not full time anyway. My body can’t take it. Neither can my brain. And that’s the one I worry about the most.”

It’s a bitter pill to swallow: admitting aloud that you’re nowhere near the person you’d been not even a decade ago. That you just don’t have it in you anymore; physical and mental exhaustion finally getting the better of you. And he is better behind the scenes; he enjoys running things and being the one to delegate and the guy that others look to for answers and help. But it’s still a kick in the gut. Admitting that you just can’t do it anymore.

“But I thought being home almost all the time meant getting to spend more time with you,” he continues. “That’s what I thought would happen. I thought we WOULD get a chance to enjoy being around one another more. Because you know what? I genuinely like being around you. I WANT to be around you. I want us to go places together and do things with one another. And that’s not what happened, did it. When I agreed to this whole bookstore thing. When I bought you that place.”

It had been a tenth anniversary gift; the purchase of the building and the help of both a contractor and a designer to make her vision -her dream- come to life. And it’s flourished; the locals falling in love with Esme and the business and making it far more successful than she could have ever imagined it would be. And while he’s proud of her and the success that she’s achieved and would never stop supporting her, it has come with its downside. There’s been moments of animosity towards the business itself; never expecting that it would eat up so much time or her time and take her away from him. He'd certainly never expected to miss her THAT much; hating the loneliness of a completely empty house and the mere absence of her voice. And it isn’t so much the intimacy that he longs for. The sex and the moments of more innocent displays of affection; walking along the beach with their arms around each other, the kisses while standing in the surf, holding hands while walking through the town. It’s the friendship. The laughs they have together when he’s attempting -yet again- to teach her surf and the conversations over lunch on the back deck and the road trips they take; either making a picnic the night before or simply grabbing food at a drive thru and then just driving with no set destination. Listening to her singing along to the radio and laughing when she dances in her seat or even letting her talk him into a silly and childish game of ‘eye spy’. And that little shriek and giggle she gives when she sticks her arm out the window; the accompanying breeze both startling her and tickling her skin. He enjoys those moments with her. Not just his wife and the mother of his children, but his best friend. His confidant. His most loyal and steadfast supporter. The keeper of his deepest and darkest secrets.

“I just thought we’d have more time,” he adds. “Together. That me stepping back and being a boss meant that we would get a chance to be with another more. Especially when all the kids ended up in school.”

“And I agreed that I’d cut back. I’ve already adjusted the schedule and everyone has stepped up and are more than willing to take on extra hours. Xavier was more than willing to take on a management role; I gave him more hours, benefits, a business account he can use for meals and gas costs. I’ve already taken care of all of that. Just like you asked me. Like you wanted.”

“I wanted you to want it too. I wanted you to want that time with me.”

“And I DO want that time with you. Have you ever thought maybe I felt being home more somehow hindered you? That maybe I’d be a distraction? That you’d put off work in favor of catering to me? I didn’t want to get in your way, Tyler. I know how important the business is. How well it’s doing. And I didn’t want to feel like I was taking you away from it and making you neglect things.”

“Why didn’t you just TELL me that? Why didn’t you let me know you were feeling that way?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t want to come across as whiny and needy. You’re running a company. A very successful one. I didn’t want to hinder that.”

“Baby, you could never hinder it. Or be a distraction. Well, unless you’re coming into the gym in the middle of a work out and you’re only wearing a bathing suit or a bathrobe with nothing underneath. Then you are DEFINITELY a distraction.”

“I’ve been good lately. I’ve held off. If I’m horny and don’t want to handle things myself, I don’t come in until you’ve got at least an hour and a half in. Isn’t the last thirty minutes to an hour cardio? Well I show up, offer you sex, and then you don’t have to go on the treadmill or the rowing machine or use the assault bike.”

Grinning, he uses two fingertips to clear her hair away from her face , tucking wayward strands behind. “So THAT’S your game plan. You’re an evil genius, you know that?”

“I know how much you hate standard cardio. How the rowing machine makes your back act up and that running on the treadmill bothers your knees. So I figure why not offer myself up? Spare your body any future agony. And if we go really hardcore at it, it’s DEFINITELY better than any other form of cardio out there.”

“You think so do you? Did you read that somewhere? Google it?”

“I DID google. It was actually in a highly respected and esteemed publication, I’ll have you know.”

“Cosmopolitan is NOT a highly respected and esteemed publication. No matter what you think.”

“I don’t know, their sex advice is pretty damn good. I’ve used a few of those things. You never complained, that’s for sure.”

“Which tricks? What did you try on me?”

“I refuse to give away all my secrets. But you enjoyed them. Very much. And sometimes you even ask me to do them again. How long have you been feeling this way? Like I’m neglecting you? Neglecting US?”

“I didn’t say you were neglecting anything.” Combing his fingers through her hair, he cups the back of her head in his palm and places a kiss on her brow. “I just…”

“It’s neglect. Let’s not sugar coat it. I put my business before you. Before us. And I never meant to, Tyler. Other than our children, there is nothing or no one more important than our marriage and you. I just didn’t want to get in your way. Honest. That’s all it was about. I wasn’t staying away because I wanted to. Or because I didn’t want to spend time with you. It was never about that. It was never about you. And I’m sorry. That I made you feel you were being put second. I never meant to make you feel that way.”

“And I never meant to make you feel you were going to get in the way. I didn’t even realize I WAS making you that way. I guess we haven’t made as much progress as we thought. In the past five years.”

“Are you kidding? We are totally different people. Separately AND together. We’re stronger. Our marriage is better. We hardly fight anymore. And when we do it doesn’t get nearly as heated and ugly as it used to. We’re able to calm ourselves down and not let things get out of hand. We HAVE come a long way. And I see that every day. You must see it too.”

“I do. But we still got work to do. We’re still lacking a bit on the whole communication thing.”

“It is one of our weak spots,” she admits. “But we’ll just keep working at it. Reminding ourselves that we can and WILL do better. I don’t want us going back to how we were.”

“Trust me, that is the LAST thing I want. I like where we are now. And I like that we still keep working on things. I’m proud of us, Me. And you. I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, she lays a hand on the side of his face and kisses him; long and soft and sweet. “And you call me sappy. Is that why you got onto this wanting another baby stuff? Because me being pregnant meant I’d be home more?”

“I guess so. I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of it. But there’s more to it. The way I’m feeling. I don’t even know how to describe it. I just know what it feels like.”

“You want to try telling me? What’s going on with you? You know you don’t have to keep this shit from me, right? That you can tell me ANYTHING?”

“I do. I DO know that. But that’s the thing, Me. I want to tell you. I just don’t know how to. Because I can’t even make sense of it. So how are you supposed to?”

“Try me. Just talk. Don’t even think about it. Just say whatever pops into your head.”

“That could be dangerous you know. Aren’t we supposed to be working on me trying to get some of my filter back?”

“Baby, you wouldn’t be you if you had a filter. It’s been almost thirteen years. I’m used to you. Just say whatever you need to say. Nothing could possibly shock me. Or offend me.”

Sighing heavily, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers; fingers buried in her hair and gently kneading at her scalp. She gives him time; patiently waiting for an often confused and muddled mind to not only put the bits and pieces together, but for him to find a way to adequately express them. It’s part of the brain injury; the minutes he’d spent deprived of oxygen when he’d coded twice in the operating room. It brings with it a wide variety of issues that can go radio silent for weeks, months, and sometimes even YEARS at a time; short term memory issues, problems controlling and expressing emotions, lack of impulse control, bouts of confusion and an increased temper and sexual drive. And she knows how frustrating it is for him; those times he struggles to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks and conversations or he forgets what he did half an hour before or can’t recall something she told him ten minutes before leaving the house. And when he takes in another sigh -longer and shakier than the one previous- she pushes her hand into his hair and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“It’s okay.” Her voice is calm, quiet, and patient. Nails lightly and briefly scratching at the back of his head before her hand moves to the nape of his neck. “Take your time. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

She can tell by the way his shoulders tense and his nostrils flare that he’s struggling; desperately trying to piece everything together and express exactly what he’s feeling. And her heart aches for him; this strong, powerful, BEAUTIFUL man continuing to be tortured by a troubled past. He’ll never be able to fully shed the memories of Dhaka; the brain injury and its side effects and the numerous scars permanent reminders of the hell he’d been through.

“You okay?” Her hand once more moves back into his hair, gently tugging at the longer strands. “You doing alright?”

Nodding, he clears his throat noisily and opens his eyes. “I love you. And my kids. So fucking much.”

“I know you do, Tyler. I never doubt that.”

“I need you to hear it. I need you to KNOW it. Because I don’t want you taking what I say next out of context. Because it’s probably not going to come out the way I want it to. The way I MEAN it to.”

“I know you love us. I’ve never once doubted that. Just say what you have to say. No getting upset, no judging you, no taking offence. I promise. Just tell me.”

“When I met you, I had nothing. Inside of me. I was empty. And you came along and you filled most of that up. Very quickly. And then we had Millie and we started having more kids and adding to our family and each time we did, more and more places inside of me started filling up. Am I making any sense? I hope this is making sense.”

“It is,” Esme assures him. “Total sense.”

“And it should be completely filled, yeah? That emptiness? You’d think between you and seven kids and the fact we have this incredible life and all this money and two beautiful homes that there’d be nothing left to fill. But there is. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I can’t fill that last piece. There’s this hole. In my heart. And I can’t find the piece that fits it. No matter how hard I try.”

“So you thought another baby would fill it? Be the answer?”

“A baby of our own, adopting, going back into the field. I guess I thought one of those three would be the answer. That one of them would do the trick.”

“You realize NONE are the answer, right? That none of those things are what you’re really looking for?”

“That’s just it, Me. I don’t know what I’m looking for. But whatever it is, it’s out there but I can’t find it. And I’m not saying this to hurt you or make you feel like you failed in some way. Because you haven’t. It’s not about you. Or our kids. Because I love you; with everything I am and everything I have. None of this is about you.”

“I know. I’m not upset or hurt. I know you love me. You show me and tell me all the time. When did this start? Feeling like this?”

“Couple months ago, I guess. Four at the most.”

“Right around the anniversary of Austin’s death?”

“Yeah...maybe...I don’t know…” The mere mention of his son causes tears to fill his eyes and a lump of emotion to settle in his throat. “...I guess that could have done it.”

“Baby, it’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to still be heartbroken.”

“It’s been seventeen years.”

“There’s no time limit on these things. I still miss my dad. A hell of a lot. Every day something happens where I’m reminded of him. One of the kids will do something and I’ll think about how I wish I could just call him and tell him about it. Or send him pictures of them. Or videos of Millie doing her MMA stuff or TJ scoring goals in lacrosse or Addie at dance recitals in her cute little outfits. It hurts like hell when I realize I can’t share those things with him. When I think about everything he’s missed and how much he’d love those kids. And you. I don’t think it ever really goes away. Grief. I think it’s always there in some way.”

“I just didn’t think it would be this hard. Hurt this much. Especially after so long.”

“You lost a child. A human being that you helped make,” she reasons. “I can’t even bear it when I just think about losing one of mine. So I can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like when it actually HAPPENS. To have to sit there and see your child suffer.”

“But I didn’t sit there,” he reminds her, voice cracking with emotion. “ I took off. I left him there. That was my son. And I LEFT him.”

“You were scared. You were young and you were…”

“I was thirty one years old. I wasn’t a kid. I was a grown ass man. I wasn’t some fucking kid right out of high school. And I wasn’t scared. I was weak. I was a fucking coward and I left him. When he needed me the most. He was sick and he was terrified and I left him.”

“Tyler…” She cradles his face in her hands, thumbs clearing away the tears that slip down his cheeks. “...it’s okay. It’s okay to talk about it and it’s okay to feel the things you’re feeling. But beating yourself up like this? Hating yourself? This isn’t good, babe. You can’t hate yourself forever.”

“You think so? You just watch me.”

“Listen to me,” she pleads, and digs her nails into his face. “You can’t do this. You can’t spend the rest of your life hating yourself. You made a mistake. And yeah, it was a really bad one and I am so fucking sorry that happened to you. That Austin got sick and suffered like he did and that you felt you had no choice but to leave.”

“How can you not hate me? How can you look at me like you do? Why don’t you see me like a monster? Like the huge piece of shit that I am?”

“Because you’re not a piece of shit and you’re not a monster. You’re just a human being that made a bad mistake. I could NEVER hate you. I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And if there was some way I could go back in time and change things and make them better for you, I would.”

“No. Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Don’t ever even wish that. Because going back and changing everything would just change everything now. It would mean I’d lose you. And my kids. I loved my son. But I would never bring him back if it meant losing everything I have now.”

She kisses him softly; tasting the salt of his tears as her fingernails lightly drag along the lines of his jaw. “You need closure, Tae. It’s something you’ve never gotten. If you knew where he was…”

“She’d never tell me. Not even seventeen years later. She wouldn’t even tell my lawyer. When we got divorced.”

“Have you tried tracking her down? It’s been a long time. Last time we saw her was thirteen years ago. She may have mellowed. She might be willing to tell you now.”

“I’m not exactly her favourite person, Me. And do you blame her? I didn’t just leave him, I left her too. When she needed me. I know she was a shit wife; constantly fucking other guys when I was away. Sometimes when I was even still in town. But she didn’t deserve that.”

“Do you want me to track her down? I could call or go and visit and ask if she’d…”

“No. That is the last thing I want. I don’t want my past mixing with my present. My future. I appreciate it, Me. And I love you for wanting to do that. For being WILLING to do it. But no good will come of that. You and her meeting up.”

“Is there anything I CAN do? Because I hate that you’re going through this. And I especially hate that you hate yourself. That I can’t take that away. Because you don’t deserve that. That hate. From yourself or anyone else. Tell me what I can do. Please.”

Sniffling noisily, he swipes the back of his hand across his nose. “You can’t fix me, Esme. No matter how much you want to. Or how hard you try.”

“I don’t want to fix you, Tae. I just want to love you.”

The tears immediately return, and when he chokes back a sob she gathers him in her embrace and rolls onto her back. An arm across the middle of his spine and hand moving to the back of his head; fingers tunnelling in his hair as he rests his brow against her chest.

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“You deserve EVERYTHING. And you’ll never convince me otherwise. Let me love you. That’s all I want. To love you. Can you let me do that?”

Nodding, he slides further down the bed; both arms circling her torso as he buries his face in her stomach.

“It’s going to be okay, Tyler.” Both hands push through his hair; tightly gripping the dirty blond tresses, nails digging into his scalp. “I’ve got you.”

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Seven: The One with Her Sister

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2915

    "No! You flip them after three minutes, or when you see bubbles popping across the top!" Lily laughed as she nudged the taller man that was arguing against her. He seemed to flinch gently at the way her arm brushed against the cool metal of his prosthetic, causing goosebumps to pop up on her fair skin, "Too long on one side will cause it to burn."

She could feel his eyes baring down into her. Trying to read her small movements and the different mannerisms she had. Trying to decipher the thoughts that ran through her head at a mile a minute. He was studying her, learning about her, just simply by watching. The way her hands gripped onto the spatula firmly, but not too hard. How frail and thing her fingers were, the way her neck dipped gently before hitting her collarbone. The marks under her eyes, more likely than not, being the results of countless hours at work. The dips in her cheeks whenever her slightly dry lips upturned into that charming half-smile she did.

But most importantly, how her chest would rise and fall at a quicker rate when someone spoke directly to her. Her mouth parting gently as the rapid breaths were sucked in and pushed out. The tinge of pink that hid beneath the surface of her cheeks, creating a rose hue around her.

"and done," Lily stated, flipping the final pancake onto the stack that sat opposite of the two, ready to be devoured by the enhanced individuals around her.

The second Lily placed the plate at the end of the bar, the team snatched them away in seconds, including Bucky. Lily pursed her lips and slid her hands across the soft material of the grey kitchen towel that sat in front of her on the silver countertops. Watching everybody's eyebrows perk up positively, causes Lily's pure heart to swell three sizes larger. Knowing that it was because of something she created alongside the man that had luckily grabbed her attention. Something no one has everthanbeen able to do for the last four years of her life. It was...surprising.

Ever since her divorce, Lily has busied herself twenty-four seven. Denying that there were still fresh wounds carved into her heart like preteens initials carved into a bridge. The damage that was done to her self-esteem becoming borderline permanent because she refuses to acknowledge the fact that it's even there. Lily had convinced herself, that if she were to admit the pain she was in, and come to terms with the suffering she had been through, Scott would win. He would succeed in breaking her completely, which seemed to be his goal from the moment they met. To take that joyful innocence of Lily's personality and twist it into something darker, colder, and more damaging. But if she continued to act as though there was nothing wrong, that she had healed from the divorce...then he wouldn't win. He would continue to be the jerk who was unsuccessful in his plan to manipulate her personality and destroy her internally.

Whether she admitted it out loud or not, Lily knew, deep down inside of her heart and soul, that he had done exactly that. And by ignoring, a beast was created. A hungry, no, ravenous, monster of insecurity and self-pity, feeding off of the anxiety that coursed through Lily's veins on a day-to-day basis. Growing stronger as the days passed, absorbing more and more of Lily's once peaceful and loving personality, turning her into a distant, self-loathing, ball of pain. All because of one man who managed to entwine himself into her life, and rip it apart from the inside.

"These are amazing, Lily. Much better than Bucks," Steve teased, shovelling another fork-full of pancake into his mouth, "They kind of taste like the ones we had at a nice little cafe yesterday."

Lily nodded along as he spoke, but didn't find herself looking at him. Instead, her eyes wandered to the scruffy man that sat to his left. Hand gripping the fork with an indescribable amount of care, as though he would break it if he held on too tight. Lily figured it was due to the fact he was a trained killer, an assassin for all of those years of his life. Being a doctor, she dealt with psychiatric issues in children, but adults and youths aren't that different when it came to mental health and damage done to their brains. She could tell from his gentle lingering over everything, that he believed he was still dangerous. Tip-toeing through life, praying he wouldn't cause a ripple in the waters around him, sending off tidal waves.

"Yes, that's where you met my son. My best friend, Gen, owns the cafe," Lily commented, letting her blonde tresses out from the constricting ponytail she had wrapped around it, "I helped her create the recipe for them."

Just as the captain went to make another comment, a small body crashed itself into Lily's legs. She gripped onto the counters as her son hugged her shins, a bright and beaming smile evident on his face. Chuckling gently, Lily ruffled the soft blonde locks that laid atop of his youthful face. It had been ages since she had seen a smile like that grace Hunter's facial features. To see him so genuinely happy, and letting those emotions shine through in their raw state. His breath was quick, and Lily assumed it was due to the tour, before bending down to his level.

"Did you say thank you to Mr. Wilson for taking you around?" Lily whispered, adjusting the boy’s jean jacket while her dark green eyes glanced over his shoulder at the taller man that had returned as well.

"Mhm! And he said we can come back any time we want." Hunter giggled, his voice hushed as he looked behind him at the group that admired the two's current interaction. A few had longing looks evident in their eyes, as though the domesticity of Lily and Hunter's lives were something they wanted or wished they had. Others were in awe at the similarity between the two, whether it be the quiet tones or their facial features. Whatever it was, it didn't compare to the look Bucky gave them.

Adoration.

"Oh did he now?" Lily laughed while standing back up, sliding her hand into her son's much smaller one, "Thank you all for letting us stop by. May have to come back again in the future. And I will send the pancake recipe to Sam, so you all can enjoy them again." Lily blushed a common thing that seemed to happen with her. Especially when surrounded by these gorgeous people.

"Oh no, text Barnes that one. I gave you his number, he's the one who's newly obsessed with blueberry pancakes." Sam commented while leaning on one of the pillars, sending a quick and not-so-discreet wink Lily's way.

A nervous laugh slid through Lily's lips as her head nodded along to the words that he said. Giving curt and sincere farewells, the blonde lead her starstruck son back out towards their car that was parked at the end of the long driveway. When the two sunk into their seats, as if rehearsed, exasperated sighs were set free from their lungs. Lily rolled her head to face the young boy to her right and a gentle giggle made its way out of the back of her throat, a nimble hand reaching out to ruffle her son’s blonde hair.

"Nice surprise?" Lily asked, glancing down at the rear-view camera on the dashboard of her car, backing out of the parking lot. Her heart clamoured against her rib cage as her mind continued to reel from her previous interactions. Whether it was because of the interest they took in her, making the Avengers pancakes, or the intoxicating smell of Bucky Barnes that permanently attached itself to the inside of her nose.

The musk. The hints of cedar and cinnamon, creating a potion of perfection to mask the smell of anything else around Lily. How his breath was clean and smelled of mint. The way his metal arm felt against her skin, or how warm his flesh one was in contrast. The feeling of callouses gently brushing themselves against her in a way that made her wonder what it would feel like to hold his hand in her own. Whether or not their hands would fit together perfectly, her soft and supple against his worn and historical. The man was a historical celebrity, a man that Lily had to study in high school, alongside his best friend, Captain America. and Lily Osborne had just made him blueberry pancakes.

"It was...incredible. I have no words mom, none." Hunter beamed, leaning back in his seat as his hazel eyes glanced out the window at the winding forest that sped past them in a green and brown blur. His chest rose and fell at a feverish rate, and Lily furrowed her eyebrows at it, before simply chalking it up to overstimulation.

Just as the Doctor went to return a comment, the sound of her ringtone filled the car around her. Her sister, Rose's, contact popped up on her ApplePlay screen, and Lily answered quickly. Typically, Rose only texted. And whenever she called, it was either something super important or one of the dumbest things she's heard. Most of the time, it was her gushing over a celeb who she had styled for a red carpet premiere or photoshoot. Rose made her living as an extremely successful stylist/designer who has worked around the world with names as big as the Kardashians. Apparently, she had styled Tony stark a few times, but Lily figured he either didn't care that much, forgot, or didn't put together that his old stylist and this random woman were sisters. who would?

"Hey Rose, I'm in the car with Hunt, what's up?" Lily wondered as she turned her blinker on, merging onto a street.

"Hey, so I'm out front of your house and kind of need somewhere to crash for a while so can I go in? I know your system lets you know when the code's used and I didn't feel like giving you a heart attack." Rose rambled, the sound of her chewing on her nails echoing through the microphone and out of Lily's speakers.

"Woah there, back up. Why do you need somewhere to stay? Aren't you living with Levi? Thought you two were going strong?" Lily questioned, motioning for Hunter to put his earphones in, in an event that this conversation became a bit too mature for him, even though he probably had heard worse at his dad’s.

A small and cracked laugh had managed to escape Rose's lips, and Lily immediately bit down on her bottom lip, knowing something had gone wrong, "Well Lily since you ask. He told me to get out of his house and life."

Lily not only grew increasingly concerned but became extremely confused. Every time she and Rose had spoken, the younger Osborne seemed to be happy and giddy. And the two were close, so if there was any sort of suspicious behaviour, Lily would have picked up on it. The two would facetime, and Rose's boyfriend that was previously mentioned, Levi, would join in every so often. So either Lily wasn't as observant as she had believed, or something went horribly wrong very fast in her sister's relationship.

"Go inside, I'll be home soon," Lily stated calmly, her foot pressing harder on the gas pedal of her car, "Tell me why he said that. Hunt has his headphones in, I want every detail."

"I'm pregnant."

-----

The moment Lily pulled into her driveway, she tore open her door and rushed into the two-story home she was lucky to afford in such an area in New York. Her purse dropped from her shoulder as she spotted Rose sitting comfortably on her sofa with Joey, whispering to the dog and stroking the top of his head gently. Running forward, Lily practically launched herself onto her sister, frightening Joey and sending him off to run towards Hunter. The elder sister wrapped her arms tightly around her twenty-eight-year-old sister, causing a small tear to roll down the latter's cheek and onto Lily's exposed shoulder.

"He was having an affair," Rose whispered into her sister's neck, a small weep rolling out of her lips like a broken wheel rolling down a hill, "with his assistant."

Sadness and anger had begun to grow inside of Lily's heart. Half of her wanted to drive to that assholes place and slap the living daylights out of him until his grandchildren felt the repercussions. The other half, aka the rational and sentimental half of Lily, knew she'd stay home with her sister and be there for her. Help her through everything. Give her all of the tips for pregnancy, as well as breakups caused by affairs. Her experienced hands ran up and down Rose's back in a soothing pattern, just letting her get all of her emotions out. Before Lily knew it, Hunter had joined the party. His small and cold arms wrapped around his Aunt and mom, somewhat, and the three sat there for around an hour.

Finally, Lily peeled herself away and let out a shaky sigh, wiping the tears that spilled from her eyes, Hunters, and Rose's. Clearing her throat, Lily stood from her couch and brushed off her dress. There was no way in hell that Lily would let her sister sit here and suffer. No, Lily would even raise the poor child if she had to if it meant that Rose was happy. One thing about all three of the Osborne siblings, despite the large age gap between them all, they three were tighter then a screw in a wood board. The first people Lily told about her own pregnancy were Cedar and Rose. Whenever Cedar was annoyed with their parents, he would drive out to stay with Lily in the suburbs or with Rose in upper Manhattan. Nothing could break the Osborne children's bond, and Lily knew for a fact her parents were proud of that because having children that despised being in the same room as each other would probably break a parent’s heart. That was a part of Lily's fear of starting a family, but luckily, she only had one child. So far at least. But she didn't have any plans to procreate with anyone shortly anyway.

"C'mon, we're going to Gens cafe. Auntie Rose needs some chocolate therapy right now." Lily stated after feeding Joey, before letting him out into the backyard.

Side rant. Joey loved the outdoors. But he was also an introverted dog. He didn't seem to mind when Lily went out, and in fact, was always the happiest when he was left to run wild in the backyard, chasing the endless amount of squirrels that seemed to set up shop in Lily's backyard. End of rant.

The three Osborne’s piled into the car once again and set off into the city again.

-----

When they arrived, Lily noticed a familiar car that she had seen earlier at the compound. Her heartbeat rose and she wondered if she'd end up coming face to face with the Avengers for the second time that day. Her mind spiraled and twisted her into thinking they'd believe she was stalking them or something. That now that she had been to their home, she was obsessed with them. Of course, this was far from the truth and wasn't at all what the group of heroes believed. Gen's cafe was simply a staple in Manhattan it seemed, and people congregated there often. And, Lily's suspicions were soon confirmed, as the entire team was gathered around three tables pushed together in the side of Lily's best friend’s workplace.

Speak of the devil.

"Rosie! is that you?" Gen's voice exclaimed from across the cafe, causing many heads to turn into the direction of the door, where the three blondes stood. Lily's eyes immediately turned towards the Avenger’s table, locking with those steel-blue ones that were engraved into her memory.

And lo and behold, there the man sat with blueberry pancakes in front of him, and a blush tinting his cheeks. If it weren't for the lighting in the cafe, the rose hue would have gone undetected under the overgrown stubble that covered his face. Something Lily couldn't help but admire and grow to enjoy seeing. But it were those ice-blue eyes that stared directly through her that sent the shiver down her spine. Her heart picking up its pace as what felt like hours passed of the two just admiring each other.

"...So I'll be staying with Lily for a bit." Rose's voice sang, pulling Lily out of her trance.

The hustle and bustle of the dinnertime rush resumed, and Lily managed to tear her eyes away from Buckys. The power he had over her was unmatched, and he probably could have made her fall to her knees if their little staring match continued...as in she was weak at the knees not in a perverted way. Her legs felt like they were made out of jello whenever he looked at her, and once again, she barely knew him. If even at all. All that Lily knew about James Buchanan Barnes was the things in history books and his name.

But thanks to Thor Oinson, that would change very soon.

[linaa-vera]

Digimon Fanfic Recommendations PART 1

So, during this quarantine I was dragged by the Digimon fandom again and I’ve been completely immersed in it. And at this point I’m past halfway the total pages of fanfic both in Fanfiction and in AO3.

So I present you the fics I think you need to read because they are worth it, ALMOST ALL OF THEM ARE COMPLETED SO YES.

PS: I tolerate all ships.

PS2: I’ll put in the name if it’s incompleted o completed. If it has 5 years without an update I’ll put dead.

PS3: THIS FIRST PART ARE FANFIC ONLY ON FANFICTION.NET

MANZANAR by GeminiStar01 (Short-story. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2781728/1/Manzanar

Summary: “Kouji and Kouichi find themselves in a JapaneseAmerican interment camp in World War 2 California. They're certain that the Digimon have something to do with thier coming here, but to what end?”

Thoughts: It has good writing, very realistic. It’s really concerning when they realize where they are and I really like how both are portrayed in the fic, both are in character which is amazing. Also good history lessons.

TIGER LILIES by AncientLou (Short-Story. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8042317/1/Tiger-Lilies

Summary: “A human lifepsan is an adventure, but much like the adventures in the digital world, they end. What becomes of a digimon left behind?”

Thoughts: VERY EMOTIONAL. I was about to cry every chapter. Very good writing. Puts in perspective that the digidestined are only humans, unlike the Digimons. The story follows what happens to almost every partnered digimon when their human dies. Broke my heart but it was worth it, it shows them in character really well.

YOU MISS HIM by bobtheacorn (One-Shot. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12370178/1/you-miss-him

Summary: “Overhead, Kari yawns; a sound muffled under her hand, barely even a sigh. / Kamiya Sibling stuff.”

Thoughts: I really love sibling relationships portrayed in fanfics. It’s very sweet and this one isn’t the exception. The author showed what it’s like living on the Kamiya residence and their relationship as siblings very well.

CONTACT by bobtheacorn (One-Shot. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11700482/1/contact

Summary: “Davis doesn't start the fight, but he does finish it. / rushprompt”

Thoughts: When I first read it I found it that could very much happen, Daisuke is someone who would not back down when someone threatens his friends. Everyone is in character, and I LOVE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN KEN AND DAISUKE IN THIS ONE. It can be taken as romantic or simply friends, the way you like it the most.

BROKEN WINGS by Kaeera (Short-story. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/722250/1/Broken-Wings

Summary: “Everybody thought that Daisuke was carefree, not? Everybody believed that he was happy...but what, when the truth is different and he has to deal with a trauma he is not ready to deal with?”

Thoughts: ANGST TO THE BONE PEOPLE. I SUFFERED. But otherwise enjoyed. I think there’s a lot that can be learned in this fic, very well written and down to earth. People can do horrible things every day, and many unknown people suffer the consequences in more ways than we can imagine, like our two protagonists.

ALL SEEMS BEAUTIFUL by Fizzing Wizard (Long story. UNCOMPLETE. Dormant since 2017, also on AO3 but with less chapters)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4446177/1/All-Seems-Beautiful

Summary: “After a bizarre incident at the camp, Taichi learns he's vanishing from his own world and becoming part of the Digital World. Meanwhile the Chosen take hits from every corner: the Spore Children, plus an enemy or several on the digital plane. And they can't keep their personal lives from tangling. ACT 2: The Chosen were dealt the worst blow possible, and it's tearing them apart.”

Thoughts: I was looking for a Taichi/Tai’s fanfic for so long. AND I FOUND IT. This story has everything, betrayals, love, FRIENDSHIP, and death. Everyone is in character which is wonderful, Taichi’s way of dealing with everything is very “goggle head like”. The descriptions are very accurate, and feel very natural.

FRIENDS TO THE END by Schnickledooger (one-shot. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5915938/1/Friends-To-The-End

Summary “Matt and Tai. Together in trouble again. Lucky they're friends, right?”

Thoughts: Really good portrayal of their friendship. Warms up my heart every time I read it.

HERE WITH ME by Mika-chan (One-shot. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/569622/1/Here-With-Me

Summary: “Taichi needs an appendectomy; he isn't thrilled. Taichi & Yamato friendship story.”

Thoughts: To quote a review “straightforward, simple, and sweet.” VERY WHOLESOME.

TOMORROW by Mika-chan (Short-story. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12130819/1/Tomorrow

Summary: “It's times like these when his father won't stop lecturing him about school and when Yamato won't stop being so self-absorbed, that Tai wishes life could be simple again—could really be just about fighting evil Digimon and saving the world.”

Thoughts: I really like this story because it shows how school can sometime be very stressful. And more importantly it depicts Tai very well, because it shows that he’s alone, or he thinks he’s being abandoned by everyone.

THE LOST TAMER by Miss Anonymous hp (Long Story. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10205417/1/The-Lost-Tamer

Summary: “Even before Takato was electrocuted, he was having a crummy day. It all started when he woke up with no memory, in a strange place, and surrounded by a group of kids known as the digidestined looking for somebody named TK. Now he, Guilmon, and five worried kids must set out to find out what exactly is going on… and why.”

Thoughts: I really like this portrayal of Takato. He’s very mature and his comments are very realistic. GUILMON IS THE SWEETEST. Even when you have all this characters in scene you don’t lose the essence. Very recommended. Has a sequel but it hasn’t been updated.

THE TEACHER OF ALL THINGS by Sadhelm2 (Long Story. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9801628/1/The-Teacher-of-All-Things

Summary: “That time in summer camp wasn't the first time Tai went to the Digital World. How different would things be if a more experienced and jaded Tai was sucked into the Digital World? V-Tamers/adventure01”

Thoughts: Tai’s very mature for his age in this fic and I love it. He knows stuff, and he’s not what I expected in this fic. But that’s what I love it, if you guys read it you have A LOT of suprises coming. 10/10

           HAS A SEQUEL TO KEEP ON RISING UNCOMPLETED. Set in 02. Dormant, last update on 2018.

WHAT WAS FORGOTTEN by Prince of Flames (Short Story. COMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8197908/1/What-Was-Forgotten

Summary: “During his battle with Cherubimon, Takuya falls unconscious. While he is asleep, he dreams of a past forgotten, and friends that he once knew.”

Thoughts: It’s a 02x04 crossover. Very short and has fluff. Love it. Although it’s not showed you can’t tell the friendship the two other protagonists had with Takuya is real.

CROSSING WORLDS: THE SEALED DIGIVICE by Sigthbent (Long Story. COMPLETE) (Has prequel, completed. And has a Sequel, uncompleted).

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5493589/1/Crossing-Worlds-The-Sealed-Digivice

Summary: “On a mission that has led Takuya out of his own dimension, he has ended up lost in another. Not only does the fate of multiple worlds rest on him succeeding, he'll also meet someone who will become forever intertwined with his destiny”

Thoughts: Another 02x04 crossover with GREAT worldbuilding. Everything is explained and you can understand the concepts easily. Takuya had a serious demeanor here, because of his new role as a “superior digidestined”(?) But has his charismatic smiles all over, very good characterizations of everyone. Cliffhangers, angst, fluff, EVERYTHING. AND THE POWER OF---

THE TAMER – A DIGIMON ADVENTURE by leonardo1123581321 (Long Story. COMPLETE) (Has a sequel, COMPLETE. HAS A THIRD PART ALSO WHICH IS ONGOING AND A LOT OF SHORT STORIES???)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11575755/1/The-Tamer-A-Digimon-Adventure

Summary: “Six young kids go to camp for the summer, wind up living in a Digital Land. With devices that let them digivolve their partners to make them stronger, our six heroes set off on an adventure to find a way back to their world. But stories tell of another boy trapped in this world for a long time and they fear the same fate. Mysteries abound in this new world. Will they get home?”

Thoughts: This is a masterpiece. If you like Doctor Who then you’re gonna love this. It’s the perfect match. The Tamer owns the situations every time he appears. I just can’t explain it further YOU HAVE TO READ THIS. IT’S AMAZING.

           Sequel: THE TAMER V1-2: ANOTHER DIGIMON ADVENTURE. (COMPLETE)

           https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12428191/1/The-Tamer-v1-2-Another-Digimon-Adventure

FORGOTTEN LEGENDS by Sightbent (Long story. UNCOMPLETED. DEAD since 2015 :c )

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6472937/1/Forgotten-Legends

Summary: “With the reemergence of a long lost continent in the Digital World the Digidestined have set out to discover its connection to recent troubling events happening in the real and digital world, but in doing so they will stumble across long forgotten legends and a chaos that has waited a long time to engulf both worlds. 02x04”

Thoughts: Ashh this fic. I really like it, I like the story, the world building. Everyone is in character, there’s so many mysteries. I’m really sad because the last chapter’s ending wasn’t what I expected and I need to know what’s happening. A good ride tho.

DIGIMON: CHAOTIC EVOLUTIONS REDONE by Katreal (Long Story. UNCOMPLETED. DEAD since 2015)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9679932/1/Digimon-Chaotic-Evolutions-Redone

Summary: “Posing as a Digidestined pair, and barred from spirit evolution save in the most dire of circumstances, Kouji and Kouichi struggle to aid the Chosen Children in discovering the secret of evolution, all while trying to unravel the truth of the connection between their Spirits, and themselves.”

Thoughts: I got a bit confused with the names of the digimons so I had to write them down to know which one was which, but I think that’s because I found it when my English wasn’t that good? So, meh. I really like this story, everyone is on character, very nice rhythm, good descriptions and conflicts. I love Koji and I love Kouichi and their relationship throughout the story.

ADVENTURE 02 X FRONTIER by Freefan1412 (Long story. UNCOMPLETE. On hiatus)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7484328/4/Adventure-02-x-Frontier Summary “Four years after BelialVamdemon's defeat the peace in the Digiworld breaks apart. A mysterious army of evil Digimon is wreaking havoc and destroying everything the children have struggled to build. And the key to evil's victory, lies with 6 'visitors'. 02 x 04 crossover. Rated for violence. Hiatus.”

Thoughts: One of the first “mature” fanfic I’ve found and what I loved about this is the fact that the warriors are more attuned with their spirits, they are vessels for them to manifest and it’s amazing. And it clearly shows that their world (frontier) was harsher and brutal than the adventure gang.

DIGIMON: FLAME WITHIN MIRACLES by Loki921 (Short story. UNCOMPLETE)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11854296/1/Digimon-Flame-Within-Miracles

Summary: “Davis holds a secret about himself that the other the Digidestineds, except for Ken, don't know. What does this secret have to do with the mysterious digimon that has been spotted recently and Kari seems to know? When evil once again rises, the Digidestined better be prepared for all they know to be turned upside down and a fight for their lives. Season 2 and 4 Crossover.”

Thoughts: I re-read this recently and I still love it. It’s an easy read. The battles are amazing and well written in my opinion. Everyone feels real and the interactions also feel amazing.

   At this point I think I made you a favor. Your welcome. If you pick any of the fics then I love you and go give your kudo to the fic because they deserve more recognition.