#currently typing while going through skip mode

[skybeads]

There’s only two endings left and one of them is the real one! I’ve heard the real ending sucks, but it’s possible the one’s thinking that just thought it was too cliché like Takumi remembering the power of self (or friendship or whatever) in the Blue Sky end (which it was, especially since Rimi isn’t a mind reader and wouldn’t get all of that).

I’ve seen a lot of pictures circulating around with Senri where she looks like any of the other girls, so she’ll probably turn up. However, since we’re in desperate need of more Kunosato I still think she’ll be the mainfocus on the second last ending (especially with a name as Real Sky). Senri probably won’t be the main ending either, it’s probably reserved to Nono in the same way the common route was Serika’s.

Also, the fact that Nono is a gigalomaniac and being accused of using Takuru absolutely still tickles my nerves. It would surprise me if Nono turned out to be evil, but since she actually gets a little bit of her inner dialogue she probably isn’t as twisted as Serika.

However, since the guide is so friendly to tell me the names of the endings I know the real endings is Silent Sky. The same as the common route where Takumi dies. This could of course be misleading, considering these games are near impossible to complete without a guide. The word silent has also taken a brand new meaning after the Wakaui torture in Hana’s ending, but I don’t think that’s relevant. My standing theory is that Takuru will take the offer of glory which Serika offered, probably with a good (but morally wrong if you really think about it) reason.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Hurdles and Challenges

Wow. Sometimes the world goes to lengths to give me a break. Though honestly, it's kind of backfiring because apparently the world doesn't know me very well.

See, I was debating calling out today. It was nearly 5am before I got any sleep because the stress and worry and ... well, everything ... caused pain flare and migraine. I woke up before my alarm, feeling a little bit better overall, but still kind of crap. Still, I know that we're struggling a little at work and I'm off all next week so I decided to take painkillers about it and carry on.

Apparently the Small God of IT had other ideas, because there is currently a hiccup with our patient records system and it's not letting me log in. I've spoken to IT and this is not a me-problem; this is an IT problem and while they are working on it, they have no idea when it's getting fixed. Though I have to say, IT was a little stunned when I got on the phone to them and they started the, "Have you refreshed the browser?" thing and I went, "Refreshed the browser, restarted the browser, cleared the cache, restarted the entire computer, everything. Nothing worked". I get why they had to go through all that, but I kind of wish they'd looked at their notes before running me through the "A statistically significant percentage of end users are ignorant of anything beyond 'press button to do thing'" spiel. We could have skipped a whole part of the interaction that way.

Anyway, so I'm sitting here, wiggling my work mouse every so often and keeping an eye on my email client, and honestly getting shit all done. I could check the typing queue, at least, and that honestly isn't too bad right now ... though it's about to get worse because Goblin's going out to an appointment and may or may not be back today. (I hope she's okay.) The thing I said about the world not knowing me very well is ... well. I could probably take it easier, not worry so much about immediately knowing when I can get to work, maybe even say, "Maybe this is for the best because I feel horrible and could use a sick day" ... but I can't stand being forced to not do things. I get nervous when IT things are going wrong, because what if it's a huge problem that won't get fixed for days? I need to know when it's fixed, so I'm going to keep trying. Plus, if I'm honest, I am an ornery so-and-so and I only get more determined when faced with a set of hurdles between myself and a task - whether I need to do it or I just want to, I want to know I can.

On that subject, Veilguard. I woke up nearly an hour before my alarm, which means I'm running on maybe four and a half hours' sleep right now. But I figured since I was up, I'd check in on Veilguard. Now, it would have been nice if someone had warned me how long it takes to configure shader settings, but never mind - my early wake-up meant I still had some time to poke at things. From the looks of things, I can play it, at least in early stages. I might want to look at whatever invincibility mode the thing has, and will be careful to not stand near any cliffs just in case, but I've been making it through the prologue without too much issue. It helps that this isn't my "real" playthrough yet, mostly because between compiling shaders and figuring out the character creation thing, I didn't get that much time to actually play. On short acquaintance, though, I think the issue is mostly the visual noise, so to speak. So much is happening on the screen that it's hard to know what you're supposed to be focused on at any give moment. I'll probably get used to it. I'm not going to be seeking a refund, anyway - which is good because I barely have time to do so. If games are going to spend over half an hour configuring shader settings at launch, Steam needs to be more generous with its return policies.

So ... yeah. Today's been me dealing with the hurdles technology sets. Not entirely winning, but coping. I'll have another try at restarting my work browser just to see, and then find something to do. I mean, maybe I could even get through the Veilguard prologue on this practice character. (I don't even remember what I named them; that's how tired I am.)

[luckyclover]

MacOS keyboard shortcuts

If you don't know...now you know:

############## Hotkeys in Leopard

############### GLOBAL

cmd space…………………………………………….. Spotlight search Ctrl [1,2,3,4,5,6]…………………………………….. Jump to a space Ctrl F7………………………………………………. Switch between text and controls. V. useful if you are stuck at a certain dialogs, such as the save dialog cmd opt shft q………………………………………… force logout ctrl F2, dwn………………………………………….. switch menu to keyboard navigation mode, starting from apple menu (with FATY) ctrl F3 ……………………………………………… switch dock to keyboard navigation mode (this mode has FAYT) (while here, up shows dock prefs, space is a mouse click) Cmd-Tab ……………………………………………… Browse through open apps cmd shft q …………………………………………… logout cmd opt escape ……………………………………….. force quit menu cmd period …………………………………………… attempt to force quit the active process cmd shft vol …………………………………………. quiet volume change cmd opt shft vol ……………………………………… fine grained music volume (10.5 only) cmd-opt-space ………………………………………… Open a file search (I still cannot figure out how to focus the search results, therefore not used frequently, the functionality is improved upon in QS anyways!) opt-vol ……………………………………………… Sound preference pane

################## EXPOSE

tab ………………………………………………… cycle through open windows NOTE: Expose can be used in conjunction with Spaces

################ SPACES

tab ………………………………………………… cycle through spaces number ……………………………………………… jump to space c ………………………………………………….. collect all windows in one space

########################### FINDER

cmd up ……………………………………………… Change working directory to parent spacebar ……………………………………………. Quicklook selected item (Quicklook features are 10.5+ only) left-right arrows in QL ………………………………. Go to next selected QL'd item. cmd return in QL …………………………………….. Show 4-up Quicklooks cmd return in Spotlight Searh………………………. Open selected object in Finder (or Mail if a mail message) cmd-shft-g…………………………………………….. Go to any folder, with autocomplete, AND IT WORKS IN Save.. and Open.. DIALOGS (v. important point) Command-Right Arrow ………………………………….. Expand folder (list view) Option-Command-Right Arrow ……………………………. Expand folder and nested subfolders (list view) Command-Left Arrow …………………………………… Collapse Folder (list view) Option-Command-Up Arrow ………………………………. Open parent folder and close current window Cmd-Opt-I ……………………………………………………. Open a single inspect pane for a multiple selection, even if ordinarily it would show individual infos type anything ……………………………………….. find as you search cmd delete ………………………………………….. selection to trash shift tab …………………………………………… like up arrow, but it wraps around tab ………………………………………………… like down, but it wraps around shift up/down ……………………………………….. select multiple cmd up ……………………………………………… open a new finder window if none is open right arrow …………………………………………. open a selected folder left arrow an open folder …………………………….. close it left arrow anything else ……………………………… jump to enclosing folder, if that folder is available (otherwise use cmd up) cmd shft h ………………………………………….. Open ~ cmd shft a ………………………………………….. Open Applications enter ………………………………………………. edit filename (esc to cancel, enter to accept) cmd o ………………………………………………. Open file with default app cmd y ………………………………………………. Toggle Persistent Quicklook cmd c ………………………………………………. Open Computer / ………………………………………………….. Top file in folder

######################## BY CONVENTION - MOST APPS

opt rgt/lft …………………………………………. skip to next word(1) opt up/dwn …………………………………………. skip to next paragraph (Does not work in TextEdit, but it should! Get something better) cmd rgt/lft …………………………………………. skip to beginning and end of line cmd up/dwn …………………………………………. skip to beginning or end of file enter ………………………………………………. choose blue button in dialogue box (usually "enter" or "accept") spacebar ……………………………………………. Use on focused objects that are clickable, e.g. a drop-down menu, tab, or button, to simulate a mouse click ctrl-tab ……………………………………………. navigate to next tab in most tabbed apps shft-ctrl-tab ……………………………………….. navigate to previous tab in most tabbed apps ctrl t ……………………………………………… new tab in most tabbed apps tab ………………………………………………… shift focus to next ctrl tab ……………………………………………. shift focus to previous cmd [1,2,3,4,5..] ……………………………………. jump to tab in most tabbed apps arrows ……………………………………………… used heavily in keyboard navigation to navigate to next element. Always less efficient than FAYS. cmd +/- …………………………………………….. increase/decrease text size cmd lft/rgt …………………………………………. go to the "next thing" esc ………………………………………………… cancel/deselect cmd , ………………………………………………. preferences cmd w ………………………………………………. close a tab or window cmd ? ………………………………………………. FAYS menu actions + help options. Also switches menu to keyboard navigation mode opt-cmd-w …………………………………………… close all windows cmd . ………………………………………………. close dialogue box cmd a ………………………………………………. select all text in active window cmd d ………………………………………………. "don't save" in dialog boxes, "add bookmark" in browsers, "send message" in mail clients cmd f ………………………………………………. fullscreen mode cmd enter ………………………………………….. echo a newline when "enter" is used for something else, e.g. "submit" in a chat app (sometimes this is reversed) cmd s ………………………………………………. save cmd shft s ………………………………………….. save as… cmd q ………………………………………………. quit cmd p ………………………………………………. print cmd o ………………………………………………. open… cmd n ………………………………………………. new file… cmd shft n ………………………………………….. new "meta object" cmd x ………………………………………………. cut cmd c ………………………………………………. copy cmd v ………………………………………………. paste cmd h ………………………………………………. hide active application (cmd tab into a hidden app to see it, or use menu -> show all)(2) ctrl cmd h ………………………………………….. hide all others (this is reversed in adobe apps)

combine most text navigation shortcuts with shift to create selections instead of (just) moving the cursor

I do not recommend hiding anything anymore. Hidden windows are difficult to focus with a keyboard, unless you are use Witch. Either way, if you are using 10.5+, Spaces accomplishes the same goal (that is - uncluttering) more cleanly and automatically. If you are using Spaces, just remember that some applications come up unfocused if you cmd-tab or Witch into them from a different space. This problem can be worked around by using control-# to go to the desired space instead of cmd-tab into the desired app (Admittedly, it's an annoying problem. But, if you can get into this of using spaces, it's faster to do it this way, anyway: it's like all your apps have individual hotkeys now!).

###################### FIREFOX

cmd l ………………………………………………. input an address cmd k ………………………………………………. focus search bar cmd d ………………………………………………. bookmark current page cmd [ ………………………………………………. back a page cmd ] ………………………………………………. forward a page cmd j ………………………………………………. downloads manager

################### TERMINAL w/ BASH INSTALLED

I have found that these keys are not quite like normal bash shortcuts. A good bash shortcut list is available at http://linuxhelp.blogspot.com/2005/08/bash-shell-shortcuts.html however you will find that these are slightly different from what I have here (and what I have here is what works in 10.5.2)

up/down…………………………………………….. cycle through command history ctrl d……………………………………………… submit EOF character (quits most interactive processes gracefully, or logs out) ctrl c……………………………………………… regain control of your shell no matter what ctrl k……………………………………………… clear old output tab………………………………………………… autocomplete pathnames etc. tab tab…………………………………………….. double tapping tab shows all possible answers to the autocomplete ctrl u……………………………………………… clear current line ctrl w……………………………………………… delete previous word ctrl a……………………………………………… jump to beginning of line ctrl e……………………………………………… jump to end of line

################# ADVANCED

SET UP YOUR OWN KEYBOARD SHORTCUTS USING the KEYBOARD PREF PANE. 1) Access the keyboard pref pane. Try ctrl-F2, dwn, k-e-y until it selects keyboard pane, then space to select that pane, then tab into the list and check it out You will see that there are many more hotkeys than are listed here. However, I rarely use cmd-opt-`, for instance. Few apps use window drawers, it is not a popular Cocoa element. (An easier way to navigate to the keyboard pref pane cmd-enter, spotlight search, keyboard pref. Another way is to use the search built in to system preferences to get there. But! I wanted to show you a more generic way that works for essentially any conceivable menu item). 2) Create your own. Tab into the +, spacebar, All Applications, tab, Zoom, tab, shft-cmd-M. This, for instance, makes a global hotkey to zoom the current window. This thing works by matching the name of the shortcut that you type to the name of a menu item in whatever app you're in. Most apps have a Zoom menu option that toggles a window's Zoom. You can use this to overload default hotkeys, as well.

NAVIGATE GOOGLE SEARCHES WITH KEYBOARD

1) If you search using this link http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=***&btnG=Google+Search&esrch=BetaShortcuts you can a results page that has keyboard accessibility. 2) I put this on on my quicksilver google search trigger. 3) I installed a greasemonkey script to redirect all my google searches to this as well. http://userscripts.org/scripts/source/9322.user.js

########## Appendix 1 - Startup Key Sequences

Strictly speaking, these are not keyboard navigation tricks, but rather important functionality only available through the keyboard. These are ripped from Apple's website.

mute while booting …………………………………. mute the "bong" (doesn't seem to work with my bluetooth keyboard) X during startup …………………………………… Force Mac OS X startup Opt-Com-Shft-Del during startup ……………………… Bypass primary startup volume and seek a different startup volume (such as a CD or external disk) C during startup …………………………………… Start up from a CD that has a system folder N during startup …………………………………… Attempt to start up from a compatible network server (NetBoot) T during startup …………………………………… Start up in FireWire Target Disk mode Shift during startup ……………………………….. start up in Safe Boot mode and temporarily disable login items and non-essential kernel extension files (Mac OS X 10.2 and later) cmd-V during startup ……………………………….. Start up in Verbose mode. cmd-S during startup ……………………………….. Start up in Single-User mode

######## Appendix 2: Known Keyboard Accessibility Issues

Address Book: Adding contacts to Address Book requires clicking arrows, not keyboard accessible Finder/iTunes: Not possible to focus the side panel with a keyboard Adium: Not possible to focus the text window of a message window System Preferences: Some system preferences are not navigable

[morizoras-cave]

Noise (Request)

Avengers cast x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: can you do an avengers cast x teen!reader where the reader is like on set or at an event or something and it gets really loud and the reader get overwhelmed from all the noise? (sorry if this is too specific. also i really love you’re writing it always makes my day

Warnings: anxiety, something panic attack-like (?), language

(A/N): this post includes chris evans, chris hemsworth, anthony mackie, danai gurira, sebastian stan and scarlett johansson. this post is a special shout out to my boys donatello, michelangelo, leonardo and raphael! you rock🤩🤩

Comic-Con. You had been so excited to go there, so excited. You loved meeting fans, and Comic-Con was the place to do that exact thing. You had been put in an interview with about a dozen of your cast mates from the Marvel universe. This was your first appearance in the universe and you couldn’t be happier about it. 

But you forgot about it. You always had trouble with loud noises. The first time you’d experienced it was in public. You wanted to say that you had gotten better, but it was still quite easy to tip you into panic-mode. 

You just hadn’t taken that into account with Comic-Con, as you were blinded by the excitement of meeting fans. Now you were there and it was horrific. 

You and the other people in the cast wore awkward and covering costumes provided by Marvel, so you could walk around unbothered. You walked in a rather large and random group all together.

Everything was so loud. There were multiple songs played at different areas and there were a staggering amount of people. It seemed like everyone was screaming at each other.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, you were visibly shaking. You couldn’t breathe in the mask, you thought, and then wondered if you would even be able to breathe without it. 

“You okay?” You recognized Chris (Hemsworth)’s voice. He was wearing a ridiculous teenage mutant ninja turtle outfit, baggy as all hell, to hide his rather telling muscular body. 

Behind the mask you were crying, you realized. Tears trickled down your cheeks. Everything hurt so much, your heart felt like it was being squeezed. Anxiety danced on your nerves. 

“I’m- I’m just a little nervous,” you yelled over the loud hall of people, voice cracking. You could pick up so many little conversations:

“It’s gotta be a number that’s special” then, “Eight” and then once more, “Eight? Eight’s not special. It’s the seven magic dwarves, not eight!”

“You’re into guys, right?” then, “yeah, why?”

“Hello guys, welcome to Herman’s Games!” then, “No one cares, Herman!”

Your senses were overflowing with input. Chris was looking at you through the eyes of Donatello (the turtle), and if you could’ve seen his eyes, you would’ve seen disbelief and obvious concern. 

“Hey guys,” Chris (Evans) padded up to you. To match the other Chris, Anthony and Sebastian, he was wearing a Leonardo (again, the turtle) mask and costume. 

You couldn’t focus on them. Or on anything, but your hurting heart and tingling stomach. Your legs felt like nothing. You needed to sit down.

Chris (Evans/Leonardo) took one look at you, and then looked to the other Chris (Hemsworth/Donatello), with concerned eyes. They whispered something to each other, but you didn’t notice. Everything was far too loud. You wiped the tears that had trickled from your eyes to beneath your chin. 

Someone grabbed your hand and started pulling you away, and you followed limply, too bothered and uncomfortable to really do anything but exist. 

A door closed, and suddenly the loudness was gone, or rather muffled. Everything was much, much quieter. The new room was dimmed and colder and quieter. Your legs gave out and you pressed yourself against the nearest wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Y/n, Y/n,” you looked up to see the two Chrisses. Your heartbeat was gradually slowing. “Are you okay? You were crying out there, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?” They crouched down beside you, gently caressing your shaking shoulders. 

“It was- It was just really loud, you know?” you said, taking your mask off to breathe properly. Your eyelashes were wet and clumped together and your eyes were red and puffy. You sniffled.

“Yeah, it was,” Chris (Evans) squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. Just then, the door to the hall was opened, making your heart skip a beat. The door was closed again, and the rest of your group stumbled inside. 

“Why’d you go in here?” Sebastian asked, and you realized you were in the currently unused (only for the next thirty minutes or so) backstage area of a panel. No one was there. Sebastian was confused, but then he saw you and his eyes softened.

“Damn, Y/n, what happened?” Anthony asked, lifting his Raphael mask. The two Chrisses backed off a little.

“Holy shit, yeah, are you okay?” Scarlett’s brows furrowed as she saw you. You nodded. 

“It’s nothing much, I just-..” you trailed off, sure that they were gonna laugh at you, “I’ve just always been very anxious when there’s a lot of noise.” You avoided their eyes.

“That’s okay, honey. That’s totally fine.” This time Danai crouched down beside you, caressing your cheek gently. You nodded again, not sure why.

“Maybe you wanna leave? We’ve already done the panel, it’s totally fine if you’re not up for the rest of it,” Sebastian suggested. You sighed in relief at his suggestion, a small tear escaping your eye. Everyone frowned at the visceral reaction of relief. You must’ve been in a lot of pain, they thought.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.” you whispered. Your voice was small. 

Danai and Scarlett drove you back to the hotel, apparently also fed up with the event. They offered to stay with you for a while, the three of you watching a movie or something. You agreed. 

In the end that day was kind of a shitty day, but the night was awesome, as you had a fun time with Danai and Scarlett, watching movies and exchanging stories, and most importantly eating pizza. 

You felt so comforted, and you made sure to thank both Danai, Scarlett, Chris, Chris, Sebastian and Anthony the next day. They shrugged it off like it was nothing, but you insisted, hoping to express your gratitude. 

At all of the next events of the press tour, they’d check in with you multiple times, and if you weren’t feeling well, they’d always make up an excuse for you to leave. They didn’t want you feeling unhappy or anxious, and if they could stop it they would. You were endlessly thankful for what they did, and you hoped so desperately that they knew. What would you even have done without them?

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906​

[hamliet]

The Girl Who Gets to Have It All: Buffy Summers

So with @linkspooky​‘s encouragement, I have binged Buffy the Vampire Slayer and relived my childhood culture. And, it's a 10/10 for me. Not that it doesn't have flaws, but it's genuinely one of the best stories I've seen, with consistent character arcs, powerful themes, and a beautiful message. It's also like... purportedly about vampires and demons and superpowered chosen ones, but it's actually all about humanity.

Buffy was able to be a teenage girl, allowed to like the things teen girls are scorned for (boys, shopping, etc), to be insecure about the thing teenage girls are insecure about (future careers, dating, school, parents), and to be a superhero with its good and its bad aspects. The story wasn’t afraid to call Buffy on her flaws (sometimes she got in a very ‘I am the righteous chosen one’ mode) and to respect and honor each of her desires (to be a good person, to be loved, and more). The story listened to what she wanted and respected her desires, giving her the challenges needed to overcome her flaws while also never teaching her a lesson about wanting bad boys or romance is silly or any manner of dark warnings stories like to throw at teenage girls. 

It respected teenage girls--nerdy girls like Willow, jocks like Buffy, lonely wallflowers with trauma like Dawn, and popular/snobby ones like Cordelia, girls gone wild like Faith. It never once reduced them to the stereotypes that were lurking right there: each character was fully rounded, human, flawed and yet with respected interests and goals. This is so rare for a story that I’m still in awe. 

The story as a whole follows Buffy from 15 to 21, of her as she grows from teenager to adult. She acts like a teenager and grows to act like a young adult, wrestling with loneliness and duty. The adults, like Giles, Joyce, and Jenny, are not perfect either, but neither are they “bad parents” or “bad mentors” necessarily. Joyce in particular says something terrible to Buffy, but she tries to do better, and it’s rare to see a parent in YA stories shown with such nuance. Basically, it wrote the long-lasting adult characters as human beings, too. 

Speaking of growing up, I appreciated how Buffy’s love interests mirrored this. Angel was someone Buffy loved and admired, wanted to be like, but who was always either extreme good or extreme bad, and combined with Buffy’s own tendencies towards black-white thinking, made for a beautiful relationship to help her grow, but didn’t necessarily form a foundation for a long-term partner. Spike, on the other hand... they both saw each other at their worst and were drawn to each other even then, and were inspired to become better because they couldn’t bear to be a person who treated the other person so wrongly. They pushed each other to become the best them they could be, and believed in each other. Also, Spuffy is an enemies to lovers ship for the ages. 

(Also, most of the other ships were well-done or at least can be understood. Riley was very obviously wrong for Buffy which paralleled Harmony and Spike in being 100% wrong for each other. Cordelia and Xander were a fun ship even if we all knew it would never last, and Willow and Oz were beautiful and cute. But Xander and Anya and Willow and Tara? OTPs. As were Giles and Jenny, the librarian and the computer teacher.) 

That said, it’s not a perfect series. No story is. All of the characters and ships had problematic aspects to them worthy of critique, and the writing is very 90s in a lot of ways. It’s a product of its time, and in many ways it’s good society has progressed beyond some of the tropes/metaphors used in the show. In other way, though, the show was ahead of its time, and in a good way it wasn’t bound by the fear of purity policing with its takes on redemption (many characters would never fly today). 

So, in order of seasons ranked from my very favorite to my “still enjoyed it very much” (no season was actually bad, imo), here’s my review. I’ll also review my top 10 villains in the show, because Buffy does villains very well in terms of the redeemable and irredeemable.  

Season 7:  Yep, the final season was my favorite. 

Overall Opinion: Buffy's finale is literally "f*ck them men, our power is ours" and while it seems cheesy it actually works (also, f*ck in both a literal and figurative sense). The series strongly hit all the themes: love as strength, and redemption. Buffy consistently shows love as her strength--*all* kinds of love. Friendship w Willow/Xander, familial with Joyce/Dawn, romantic with Spike/Angel. These types of love are also never pitted against each other as is so often the case in current-day media. It's beautiful. Also, Spike’s confrontation with Wood was so powerful in terms of exploring forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation: where they overlap and where they don't, and what it means to move forward. 

Unpopular Opinion: I have seen a lot didn’t like the inclusion of Potential Slayers, and while I agree they could have been better incorporated/characterized, it was a great way to show Buffy’s final stage of growing up to be ending her chosen one status and projecting/multiplying her powers over the world. 

Biggest Critique: Kennedy was female Riley--the anti-Tara to Riley’s anti-Angel (by ‘anti’ I mean opposite in every way). Kennedy was annoying and immature. Her role, like Riley’s, was less about exploring her as a character and more about her just being stamped as “love interest: lesbian.” 

Favorite Episodes: Beneath You, Lies My Parents Told Me, Touched, Chosen

Season 6: 

Overall Opinion: I said this on Twitter, but I felt like this was Buffy’s The Last Jedi or Empire Strikes Back moment. It is polarizing and dark, deconstructing the tropes it stands on--but by digging to the core of these tropes, it actually makes what’s good about them shine brighter. Everyone’s enemy was the worst versions of themselves. Giles left Buffy, Willow's struggle to relate to the world led to her trying to destroy it, Buffy hurt everyone through her anger, Xander abandoned Anya at the altar, Spike... yeah. It ages well as an integral part of the story, and the Trio were eerily prophetic. 

Unpopular Opinion: Dawn is a great character with a good arc. A traumatized teen acting out and struggling to come to terms with loss and identity? She wasn’t whiny; she was realistic. 

Biggest Critique: Willow’s addiction coding (I’ll discuss this below) and Seeing Red as an episode. I see the argument for both of its controversial scenes from a narrative perspective: Willow starts the season not grieving Buffy but instead being determined to fix it with magic and needs to learn to grieve, but. Still. Bury your gays is not a good look. For the Spike scene... he conflates sex/passion and violence (”love is blood, children” is something he said way back in season 3), but like Tara’s death, it had more to do with Spike (as Tara’s death did for Willow) than with Buffy’s arc, and as for the actual execution... they really botched that. Did it like... have to go on that long or go that far? No. Also, the framing was good, but inconsistent with the rest of the series (Xander to Buffy in the hyena episode, Faith to Xander and to Riley, etc.) 

Favorite Episodes: Once More With Feeling, Smashed, Grave

Season 3 (tied with Season 5):

Overall Opinion: The opening continuity of Buffy meeting Lily/Anne after saving her life in Season 2 was sweet. The Witchhunt episode had really powerful subtext: stories of deaths that aren’t even true are actually demons that possess the town and convince them to turn against their children in the name of protecting the children. It’s a good commentary on, oh, everything in society. Faith’s character arc was fantastic, and her chemistry with Buffy was off the charts (look, I may be Spuffy all the way, but Fuffy has rights). The finale was satisfying in so many ways, seeing the entire graduating class unite to destroy the Mayor and the school with it, symbolizing Buffy et al’s readiness to move on to college. Oz's relationship with Willow was very sweet and meaningful for a first romance for Willow. 

Unpopular Opinion: I actually don’t really have one. Maybe that the miracle in Amends was earned? I think you can make a decent case that Season 3 is the best written of the seasons, but can only truly be thematically appreciated to its full potential in the light of subsequent seasons (which finish Faith’s arc and deconstruct Buffy’s).  

Biggest Critique: It forgot Buffy killed the hyena guy in Season 1, making her continual insistence that she can’t kill people very ????? 

Favorite Episodes: Lovers Walk, Amends, Graduation Day Part 2 

Season 5, which ties with Season 3:

Overall Opinion: The entire season is about family and what it means, from Tara’s to Buffy’s to the Scoobies. I loved Glory aka Enoshima Junko as the Big Bad, I loved Dawn’s interesting meta commentary on retconning (like, the fact that she’s retconned in matters), and most of my ships are still alive. Joyce’s relationship with Spike is one of the most heartwarming aspects, and Spike’s arc’s desire is clearly highlighted: he wants to be seen as a person. The episodes after Joyce’s death are the most honest portrayals of grief I’ve ever seen, and absolutely brutal to watch. 

Unpopular Opinion: Buffy’s choice at the end seems a deliberate inversion of her choice at the end of Season 2 (sacrifice a loved one to save the world), but it actually isn’t: much like at the end of Season 2 where Buffy skips town because she’s devastated after killing Angel and doesn’t want to sort out being expelled, her mom knowing she’s the slayer, and her own trauma, Buffy’s sacrifice here was as much about her wanting the easy way out of relationships, family, college, etc. as it was about saving Dawn. Buffy’s death is coded as a suicide, which Season 6 emphasizes as well. 

Biggest Critique: Like Season 3, I don’t have a lot to critique here. I wish the suicidal coding had been a little more obvious in Season 5 itself, but also I’m not sure it could have been more obvious; it’s pretty apparent if you pay attention. Maybe also that Buffy and Riley’s relationship failing should have been more squarely blamed on Riley, you know, being insecure and cheating. 

Favorite Episodes: Family, Fool for Love, Intervention. 

Season 2:

Overall Opinion: Heartbreakingly tragic but exciting and revealing at the same time. It asked the viewer interesting questions about redemption and forgiveness and atonement through Angel being honest about his past, and then decided to show us his past now reenacted, challenging us. And still, we saw them save him in a parallel to saving Willow in Season 6 (but Season 2 was tragic because it wasn’t enough, while Season 6 was not). Jenny’s death was agonizing, and the scene were Angel watches Buffy, Willow, and Joyce get the news through the window was powerful. We didn’t have to hear them to get the grief. 

Unpopular Opinion: Jenny’s death isn’t a fridging; it works for her arc too when you consider her history. She worked to save the person whose life she was tasked to ruin, and it cost her her own--yet she still succeeded, because Jenny brought joy and wisdom to the show. Kendra’s death, on the other hand... was because they needed the stakes to be high--but we already knew that before she died. So, her death was useless. 

Biggest Critique: The subtext was Not It. It was essentially “do not have sex. Your older boyfriend will lose his soul, kill your friends, you’ll lose your family, your school, your home, and have to kill your true love or else hell will literally swallow earth.” 

Favorite Episodes: School Hard, Passion, Becoming Part 2.

Season 1:

Overall Opinion: I really liked it; it’s just lower on this list because the others are just better. It’s a great introduction to the series and to its characters, from Giles to Buffy to Willow to Jenny to Cordelia. It has great subtext a lot of the time (for example, Natalie French as She-Mantis is a literal predatory bug who engages in predatory behavior with students). Additionally, it subverts the typical YA trope of two guys and a girl, in which the girl is usually the least interesting character. Buffy and Willow were both fully fledged characters from the beginning with distinct strengths (even before Willow became a witch, as she wasn’t one in season 1 yet), while Xander was the more ordinary of the group. 

Unpopular Opinion/Biggest Critique: Xander’s arc showed its first flaws that unfortunately continued throughout the series: his writing was either very good or very indulgent in ways it never was for other characters.  (cough, the hyena episode, cough, in which he gets to skirt responsibility--and acknowledges that he is skirting it--for something the show will later hold others to account for). Xander’s just kind of inconsistent, which weakened his character over all. (Which is why both his love interests--Cordelia and then ultimately Anya--were good for him: they did not indulge him.) 

Favorite Episode: Witch, Nightmares. 

Season 4:

Overall Opinion: it’s still a good season. It’s a good portrayal of college and the growing pains of branching out, the strains of college growth on relationships (romantic and platonic). It shows us the first hints of Spuffy, giving us some serious Jungian symbolism between Spike and Buffy early on, and does well in establishing Xander/Anya and Willow/Tara as beautiful OTPs. Faith and Buffy’s foiling is fantastic. The Halloween episode was very fun as well. However, it suffers because its Big Bad, Adam, is not all that compelling thematically--yet, he could have been. See, the final battle pulls off the Power of Friendship in a really strong way but notably the season does not end there. Instead, it ends on dreams of each character’s worst fears, continuing what we saw in Nightmares in Season 1. Why? Because it shows us that the characters’ wars aren’t against monsters, but monsters of their own making: their flaws. Adam, as a literal Frankenstein, exemplifies this, but it wasn’t capitalized on as well as it could have been. 

Unpopular Opinion: Beer Bad isn’t a bad episode, at the very least because Buffy gets to punch Parker. It’s not one of the series’ best, obviously, but it does give Buffy an arc in that she gets her daydream of Parker begging her to come back, but she has overcome that desire and her desire for revenge. If we wanna talk about bad subtext in Season 4, Season 2′s Not It sex subtext continues in the Where the Wild Things Are episode in this season; it’s a powerful callout of abusive purity-culture churches, until the fact that the shame creates a literal curse undermines the progressive message it’s supposed to send. Also, the Thanksgiving episode (Pangs) is a nightmare of white guilt and Oh God Shut Up White People. 

Biggest Critique: Riley is awful. Like Kennedy, he had “love interest:normal” stamped on him and that was it. The thing is, he could have worked as an Angel foil, representative of the normal-life aspect of Buffy to Angel’s vampire/supernatural aspect, but the writers never explore this and seemed to even try to back away from that later on. They threw all the romantic cliches at the wall to see what sticks, from klutzy “I dropped my schoolbooks, that’s how we met” to cliché lines that had me rolling my eyes. Do you know how bad a romance has to be to make me dislike romantic tropes? 

Favorite Episodes: Fear Itself, Hush, Restless

Villain rankings: 

Dark Willow, the only villain to be truly sympathetic. While the addiction coding was insensitive and, while unsurprising for its time, aged extremely poorly. That said, Willow’s turn to the dark side after Tara’s death worked well for her character and the story: it was believable and paid off what had been building since Season 1's “Nightmares” episode (Willow’s inferiority complex). 

Glory managed to be genuinely terrifying, and humorous/enjoyable too. Her minions and their numerous nicknames for Glorificus were hilarious, as was her intense vanity. Her merging with Ben--a human being who genuinely wanted to be kind and good--added complexity and tragedy to her role. 

The First. A really good take on Satan. The seventh season as well as the First’s first appearance in season 3′s “Amends” had kind of blatant Christian symbolism, and so the First being essentially Satan works. Their disguising themselves as dead loved ones and the subtle manipulation they used to alienate people was really disturbing and well done. 

The Mayor, who was a terrible person but a truly good father. He provided an interesting contrast to the normal ‘bad dad’ bad guy character, in that he provided Faith exactly what the other characters refused to: he saw the best in her and offered her parental support, while the heroes didn’t and wound up pushing her away. 

The Trio, who were villains ahead of their time: whiny fanboy reddit dudebros, basically. The stakes seemed so much lower than fighting Glory, a literal god, the previous season. But that’s why they worked so well for Season 6′s human themes, and were especially disturbing because we all know people like them. I also appreciated the surprisingly sensitive takes on Jonathan and Andrew, who got to redeem themselves, but Warren did not, and I don’t think he should have either. 

Angelus + Drusilla. I’m ranking them below the Trio because Angelus was just sooooo different from Angel that it was difficult for me to feel the same way for him. He was still Angel, so it wasn’t possible to enjoy his villainy, but he also wasn’t nearly as sympathetic as Dark Willow, had no redeeming qualities like the Mayor, and wasn’t as disturbingly realistic as the Trio. However, the emotional stakes were excellently executed with him as the Big Bad, in that you were never quite sure how to feel and it just plain hurt. Also, Drusilla was a favorite recurring character. She was sympathetic and yet batsh*t enough to be enjoyable as a villain at the same time. 

The Master, who was just completely camp and really worked as an introductory villain. He was scary enough to believe he was a threat, and was funny enough to introduce the series’ humor as well. He was, like Glory, an enjoyable Big Bad. 

The Gentlemen, the one-off villains of Season 4′s Hush who were genuinely terrifying. It’s not as if they got a lot of explanation or any backstory, but they didn’t need it. 

Caleb, the misogynist priest. Fitting with the First’s Christian symbolism, Caleb serving as a spokesperson of all bad religious beliefs felt appropriate. He was also a good foil to Warren--being actually supernaturally powered instead of a wannabe--and to Tara’s family in being full-out evil. I despised him. 

Snyder. Okay Snyder is not a Big Bad like Adam is, but let’s face it: Adam is lame compared to the other villains. But Snyder as a principal? He was so irritating and yet really well used in the series to critique overly strict, hypocritical teachers. Like, we all know teachers like him. I loved to hate him, and his ending was so satisfying. 

[morgana-ren]

I hope you're doing well! I was wondering if you have any sfw/nsfw headcanons about Aizawa (bc I'm currently obsessed with him and I love the way you write) I hope you have a good day/night!

Hey friend! Thank you for the request! I’m kinda new to Aizawa as I’ve only ever really done one or two things before but I hope this is okay! ❤️ 💕 💗 ( I spend so much time writing dirty villain thoughts that it kinda leaks out into the rest of my work so I hope this is okay!! <3)

Sorry this took a while!

So Aizawa is fiercely logical and rational, right? It’s clear he lives his every day life through a strict code that keeps him pretty rigorous. That doesn’t mean he’s against goofin’, but usually it’s to prove a point to his students or just making a dry remark.

That means that when you’re ‘talkin’ or even in an established relationship, it’s pretty straight laced in public. The only real indication you’re together is that you’re caught spending more time than normal with each other, walking together, etc.

He’s not going to stop you from a quick, chaste kiss or anything like that, but he wants his primary focus in the public to be professional and ultimately impersonal. His private business is his business and he wants it left at that.

That makes it so fun to tease him because it gets him insanely flustered. He physically cannot react to it without breaking down those walls he’s so painstakingly upkept. 

So text him when you know he’s doing something so utterly vital and maybe send him a lil’ treat. Maybe a cute little upskirt or a harmless selfie that has a lil’ bit of cleavage slippin through the slope of your neckline. 

He’s professional, he won’t check it until he has a moment to himself, like a break at lunch or maybe just a small skip between classes he teaches. When he does check it though, especially when he’s still at work and isn’t going to get off for the foreseeable future, he sees it and goes into total feral mode. That’s playing dirty and you know it. He’s going to work his students twice as hard in sheer irritation because he can’t keep him mind straight because you just had to work him up.

Or when you’re dropping him off at work? Run your hand down his thighs and up his crotch and watch his tired, weary eyes transform into wide and then vindictive in three seconds flat. He can’t do anything about it now. Now. 

Thing about those real staunch types is when you’re got a certain moral code about keeping a professional image, you don’t usually participate in PDA. As fun as it is use this to your advantage, that means the second you’re behind closed doors, you are going to fucking get it. The very moment you’re away from the prying eyes of the public, you belong to him. You’re going to pay for every cheeky little play you do to make his life more difficult. He’s going to teach you a lesson, because he’s a good teacher like that.

Once that front door shuts behind you, he’s got you up against a wall with your hands trapped behind your back and his playing at the waist of your pants. When those elegant fingers finally dip below the seam, he’s only applying enough pressure to stimulate you, not nearly enough to give you the pleasure you’re craving. He might rub himself against you and nip at your neck, other little things he knows drive you mad, but the name of the game here is “how much can I work you up while you can’t do anything about it and you ultimately break.”

Thing is, he doesn’t want you to beg. Oh no, he wants you a drooling, whimpering, pleading mess. He’s meticulous and calculated and he knows just how to tease you to the point of literal madness. He’s got some pretty insane self control, so the only one suffering is going to be you. At least until you’re pathetically broken enough for him to finally indulge. 

He’ll tie your hands to the headboard with his capture scarf and get to work, slowly touching you and playing with you to break you down. He’ll tweak and pull on your nipples until you’re arching off the bed to chase the sensation. Light, open palmed pressure at your core with a slight rocking motion until you’re rutting against the open air, dripping and crying out for mercy. He’ll even stroke himself in front of you while your hands and pussy clench, nice and slow with the precum leaking from his swollen tip. He knows it makes you salivate, how desperately you want his cock.

When you’ve reached your limit and he finally thinks you’ve had enough, he’ll dip his fingers in your greedy cunt, one finger and then two playing with your sloppy little hole. You’re more than ready to take him, but he’s going to drag out this torture as long as he can. 

Even when he’s finally running out of patience and he climbs on top of you, mounting you and getting ready to slam into you, he’s going to tap his cock against your clit just to hear your frustrated whines one last time before he gives you both the satisfaction you crave. 

Look, you might have the advantage outside of the bedroom. You might be able to taunt him and make him miserable because his professional image won’t allow him to do anything quite so crass in public, but the second you cross that threshold into privacy, there is no part of you he won’t ruin.

After he’s finally gotten his vengeance, he’ll finally release you and massage your sore shoulders. He knows the entire point of the little game you play is to get him as wired as possible, but when it’s all said and done, he loves you. You just need to learn to behave yourself or else there will be consequences. He has the ability to deal with some of the most unruly students in all of UA, believe me, he has no shortage of imagination on ways to punish you when you misbehave.

[simularity-sims]

Alien Landing Zone Lot Trait

Use this lot trait to convert any non-residential lot into an alien landing zone where several aliens will regularly visit said lot. Different Sims will react differently to being in the landing zone and seeing the aliens. If you’d rather find out the specifics through gameplay, skip the blue boxes and head down to the important information and download buttons. One more thing, you must have the Get to Work Expansion Pack for this Lot Trait to work at all!

Here are the features currently included in this trait mod:

Every four hours throughout the day, at least five or more undisguised aliens will appear on the lot.

Most Sims will receive the same buff upon entering the landing zone except for Alien Sims for which there is an alternate buff.

When the aliens appear, most Sims will receive a new buff while there are special new buffs for Geek, Genius, Paranoid, and Alien Sims.

By visiting an Alien Landing Zone, your Sim becomes considerably more likely (about an 80% chance) to be abducted by aliens upon returning home unless your Sim is an alien.

CURRENT VERSION:

v1.0 – This is the first release of this lot trait. If you have suggestions on how it could be improved, let me know. Thanks!

HOW TO USE:

To use this trait you’ll need to go into Build Mode on any given lot. This lot trait will work on any venue type except any type of residential venue so think community lots. While testing I tried it on a restaurant venue (bad idea because it soon became overwhelmed with people and aliens) then later on a museum venue (that worked much better). You can experiment with it on premade commercial lots or create your own lot of any type and set the venue type to “generic” if you like. Then go to lot traits and select the “Alien Landing Zone” lot trait as shown in the preview screen shot image at the top of this post.

SPECIAL THANKS:

I created this lot trait mod using the Mod Constructor v4 by Zerbu. I also utilized Sims 4 Studio for several edits so thank you to the team behind that program as well.

PACKS REQUIRED:

Get to Work EP

GAME VERSION:

v1.65

Download latest version @ Simularity

[obeyme-kaidii]

Obey Me Tips

General Obey Me Gameplay Advice

I really love Obey Me. Really really really love it. I love the characters and the stories, and I really love the fan content that’s been created for it. I’ve never been involved in a fandom before, but I have to say it’s pretty amazing finding like minded people to interact and share these things with. I’m not brave enough to write fanfic, but I can give game play advice and do math, so that’s why I write these guides.☺️

My advice here is either from personal experience or because I did the research and the math so I could figure out the answer. I’ll always have proof to back up my assertions, if you’d like to see for yourself if my theories hold water. (I’ve even started a free account on my iPad just so I can thoroughly test all my recommendations from the perspective of a non-paid player.)

Please keep in mind that my advice is geared towards players that view finishing the normal mode lessons/main story as their priority. You may prefer to collect outfits or bloom all your favorite cards, and that’s quite alright too.

So without any further ado, here are my general gameplay tips and advice.

An ideal team consists of 3 Demon cards and 3 Memory cards per type.

But a team with only 2 Demon cards and 2 Memory cards per type is also viable for the normal mode lessons at this stage in the game (up to lesson 40).

This is because of the 2.6x type boost for primary types and 1.9x type boost for secondary types per level. The boost only applies to the cards that match the types on that level - so on a level with Envy as its primary type, the Envy stat on your Envy cards will receive the 2.6x boost.

So while that 2.6x boost is pretty awesome, the 1.9x boost is nothing to scoff at either. And if you have 2 Demon and 2 Memory cards of each type, then you can guarantee that all of your cards will receive some sort of boost on all the new levels.

For the first season of levels (lessons 1 - 20), you can get by with just a single team of 3 Demon cards and 3 Memory cards because the type boost for those levels works differently and applies to all cards, not just the ones that match the types for the level.

(And don’t forget you can only use 1 Demon card per brother on a single team. So if you have two Greed cards, but they are both Mammon, you’ll only be able to use one Mammon at a time. Don’t waste your time powering up both of them.)

Powering your cards up evenly is the best way to advance in the game.

I don’t know how it got started, but at some point everyone became convinced that the best way to advance was to work on a single card at a time. And that’s simply not true. In fact, it’s pretty bad advice if I’m being honest.

Things get more expensive as your cards get stronger and you get less strength for the effort. When you level your cards evenly you’re able to get more strength combined for the amount of Grimm you spend.

(If you’d like to see the math on this, I have a whole 4 part series that breaks it down bit by bit packed with examples.)

This advice applies to stars too. Bring all your cards for your teams to 1 star, then 2 stars etc. Sometimes you’ll already have the mats on hand to unlock more stars on cards of certain types, and that’s totally cool and fine to do. But when you are short on mats and trying to figure out what to work towards next, remember to strengthen your weaker cards first.

Use Grimm to level up your cards.

You do receive a small portion of experience in battles that will help your cards gain levels. But because of the mechanics of the battles and how long they take, I really don’t recommend grinding them for experience to save a few Grimm.

Maybe if you had a ton of free time and nothing better to do, I guess? But it’s just not worth the trouble to me. I think it would be a better use of your time to use the “x3” or “x5” button and just get it over with, and then go read some smutty fanfics, where you get pounded by the demon(s) of your choice. 🙃

It is worth mentioning though that the addition of the “SKIP” feature for battles where you overpower your opponent by a large margin makes it much easier to earn experience through battles, but you’ll still occasionally be given a Surprise Guest to entertain. It’s up to you to decide if that delay is worth the experience.

Stars are overrated.

I already mentioned how for most of the game my cards only had 3 stars. And that’s because the amount of time and effort you have to spend to farm hard mode materials in pretty crazy. It’s just not worth the effort to get hung up on them. You’ll quickly find yourself struggling to advance if you get distracted by the stars.

You’re better off doing events to get new cards and waiting for Levi’s Otaku Bootcamp to roll around, and doing the hard mode battles then. And if you just absolutely have to have some hard mode mats - buy the extra levels from the current event so at least you can get extra event points (and thus more rewards).

Only spend your Demon Vouchers in sets of 10.

That guarantee of getting 1 SSR card is pretty gosh darn important especially for free players that don’t have DV to waste. I know it’s tempting to spend them as you earn them, but try to resist the temptation. My biggest regret is that I didn’t spend my DV more wisely when I first started.

Don’t waste your DV on Chapter A.

Besides the UR cards, all of the cards in Chapter A can be won in the event Nightmares. So unless you really really want one of the OG Demon UR cards (which I admit, they are all pretty awesome), don’t do it. And if there is a specific UR card you want, you should try to wait until the birthday event for that demon for a better chance at getting that specific UR card (assuming they continue the pattern of releasing birthday Nightmares for all the brothers).

Invest in Chapter M when you get the chance (be sure to use 10 DV at a time).

This is important to free players especially because it’s the best way to get Memory cards. Odds are you won’t be able to get enough points for the new events to win the SSR or UR Memory cards so you’ll have to get them somewhere.

(Replaying the old events in Lonely Devil is also another good option because the rewards were much cheaper and easier to acquire than they are now.)

Don’t neglect your Memory cards.

I really cannot emphasize this enough. I know they give less strength than the Demon cards, but they are still really important in terms of not only strength, but also their special skills that can boost your strength during a dance battle (or hinder your opponent).

Glow sticks are amazing.

I love glow sticks. I always try to use the type specific glow sticks first, and save my rainbow glow sticks for when the type specific ones aren’t enough. And if you’re a free player, the rainbow ones are arguably the best way to spend your Raven.

But please don’t waste your glow sticks. If you can’t beat a level after 1 shot, take a break and look at how you can strengthen your team before trying again. You’ll be surprised at how much easier it’ll be to advance if you just add 5 levels to a card on your team whenever you get stuck.

Rainbow glow sticks - grant you a 30% boost to the Strength of the card you equip it to

Single color glow sticks - grant you a 10% boost to the Strength of the card you equip it to

If you are 10,000 strength stronger than your opponent, you have a really good chance of winning with 2 stars.

If you go for 20,000 - 30,000 strength over your opponent, it’s pretty much a guarantee at getting 3 stars.

There are exceptions to this where special skills come into play (especially in boss battles), but this has been my experience when advancing through the normal levels.

If a level is giving you trouble, try to counter the opponent’s special skills.

This was especially important for the boss battle with Diavolo at the end of Lesson 40. His combination of skills was absolutely brutal.

My original recommended team was over 50,000S above Diavolo’s S and I barely filled the bar halfway. But when I switched to a team that focused on countering all of his skills, I was able to win with a considerably weaker team.

(Yep, you’re reading that right. Beel was only level 10.)

The cards with the Abilities that can counter these skills are found in the new event Nightmares. Both the UR cards and the SSR card will have whatever the featured Ability is. The SSR cards will simply neutralize the opponent’s skill when it’s activated, but the UR cards “reflect” the skill back to your opponent so that they are cursed instead.

Only buy DV from the 99 DP offers that are available when you level up.

Or during special sales like Solomon’s Summoning Sale. Or specific packages in Mammon’s Rip-off Sale.

Sometimes you’ll need to spend some DP because you have no DV left and really want a chance at a specific card, but try to avoid doing so as much as possible. Your DV and DP will go further and last longer if you save and spend it wisely. This is especially important for free players who have to balance card collecting with building stronger teams.

Whenever you have Grimm to spare, dump it into Chapter G.

This will be your primary way to earn Raven. And Raven is a great way to buy rainbow glow sticks, additional Demon Vouchers, and now even card pieces for certain SSR and UR cards.

They also have the outfits for all the brothers demon forms which are pretty neat. I do own them all, but that’s not exactly necessary and definitely not the best use of Raven. 😂

If you need friends for the daily AP, just add all the top players from the current event.

The top players are the ones most likely to be active, and know how to use the feature to add friends. (Let’s not talk about how long it took me to figure that out when I first started playing, ok? Lol) So they’ll be the ones most likely to accept your friend request and send you AP daily.

On my free account, I just started at rank 1 and sent requests to everyone down to about rank 200 or so until I had 50 friends. And then whenever I had some new spots open up, I’d do the same thing again. I’d also check my Friends Request section to see if I had any new requests from other active players.

Oh, and I periodically remove friends that haven’t played in over 2 weeks. No sense in keeping them on my friends list when there are plenty of new people and active players who could use the free AP and send me some as well.

That’s all I’ve got for now! I hope these tips help you out some if you ever find yourself stuck and uncertain as what to do next. ❤️

[thiswasinevitableid]

Okay well then!!!! I am very glad and excited to share my most recent idea I had while rereading Yeti Hunting again!! And the new Incubus one too!! They're almost exactly the same idea, just different flavors I suppose. Also Joe is trans in both the ideas but that's less to do with the ideas themself and more to do with just me projecting on him sgfjgsjfhsjdh

Okay so it's like a reverse au so Stern is some kind of cryptid, but as far as Barclay knows they're just two good human friends (but maybe they wanna be a little more than friends...). And then one day Joseph goes into heat and tells Barclay he's sick to try to keep him away, but Barclay being the sweetest man alive goes to his house with fresh soup to take care of him and Joe seems really panicked about Bar being there and tries to make him leave but he is CLEARLY unwell and Barclay is very stubborn when it comes to helping people he cares about and so he plants himself down on the couch and says he's not leaving until Joe tells him what's wrong and Stern tries to hold onto his human form but it's taking too much focus and energy and whoops Barclay finds out his friend not human and currently in distress and so horny it hurts and if he can help his friend and fuck him at the same time, well then that's just a win all around (bonus points if at the end Barclay is kinda sad because he thinks Joe just needed somone to fuck him, not nessacarry Barclay, but Joe frantically assures him that he is SUPER into him and if it were anyone else he would have kicked them the hell out and probably skipped town bc he couldn't trust anyone else with a secret like this).

Or!! (This is where the incubus part comes in) Joe is an incubus and currently hiding out in his human disguise at the Amnesty lodge and it's going fine for a while, but then he starts talking to and getting to know the really hot chef. And they slowly start growing closer and closer. And maybe in this world, the power an Incubus gets from sex depends just as much on their desires as it does the human's. And this has never been an issue for Stern before, but now he's falling for Barclay and wants him and no one else so he's getting less and less energy from his encounters and Barclay is worried about him because he doesn't seem like himself anymore. Almost as if he's... dulled? When Barclay looks at him the blue of his eyes seem muted and his general aura seems... gray. And it all comes to ahead when Joe finally stops insisting he's fine and after dinner one night he asks if he can speak to Barclay privately, and he comes clean about everything and Barclay, while a little shocked, rolls with it very well and cups Joe's face in his hands and kisses him softly and it like,,, you should have come to me sooner, I'd do anything for you,,, and yeah it's really tender,,,,

Okay that's it I'm sorry it's so long and probably incoherent. I tried to use at least little formatting to make it better but it's a tumblr mobile ask, I'm not sure even the new paragraphs will translate over. The general idea is that they're close friends and Stern is Not Human and Barclay finds out under less than ideal circumstances :3 I know these are far from original or unique but I just wanted to share my ideas with you bc you're the inspiration for a good 70% of my private writings, but if you like them enough and ever feel like doing something with them that'd be cool ;3

Here you go! I went with scenario one. Content Note: some “mating” talk and mild subdrop at the end (which is, of course, taken care of)

The two canvas bags are ready to burst. Barclay peers into them, contemplating the addition of another box of tea, in case Joseph doesn’t like the other two. Mama was cagey when he asked, he doesn’t know what’s ailing the other man, only that he’s sick. 

Joseph manages Amnesty Lodge, where Barclays’ been a cook for the last six months. Barclay was initially wary of him; his cosmopolitan bearing and clean-cut appearance is so out of place in the rustic mountain town of Kepler that the logical explanation is he’s one of those city types who fell on hard times and got stuck here. 

It took less than forty-eight hours for him to prove Barclay wrong. Polite and polished, efficient and stunningly good in a crisis, Joseph handles the day to day chaos of the lodge while Mama, the owner, took care of the big picture stuff. His friendly greetings and consistent compliments about Barclays cooking gradually turned to afternoons spent at a table with his work so they could talk during lulls in business. 

When Joseph leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he helped Barclay tidy the kitchen, the cook rushed headlong into his crush and never looked back. He regularly dreams of blue eyes and a movie-star face, finds his day doesn’t really start until Joseph pokes his head in to say good morning. 

He’s been without that greeting for two days now. Joseph never misses work, and his sudden absence worried Barclay enough that he checked with Mama to be sure the manager was okay.

“Joe’s fine big fella, just under the weather is all.”

The one time Barclay got sick, Joseph brought him tea and soup himself, checked in on him every hour, and--if Barclay’s fever addled brain is to be trusted--fluffed his pillows. It’s the least Barclay can do to drop off snacks and be sure his friend is okay. 

It’s a short drive to cabin Joseph calls home; he used to live at the Lodge, but as it got more crowded, he moved to his own space so those who needed a cheap, safe place to stay could have one. 

His knock on the door is answered by a brisk, “Who is it?”

“Barclay. I, uh, I brought you a get-well gift.”

Joseph opens the door to the cabin and to an entire new universe of fantasies. His normally slicked-back hair falls, relaxed, across his forehead, his loosely tied blue robe shows a tantalizing V of skin, and the dreamy-sleepy expression makes his face even more kissable. 

“Hi.” Joseph takes a step forward, taking the bags and bringing his face achingly close to Barclays’. Then he freezes, reversing into the house, “I, um, it was very sweet of you to bring all this. But you need to go.” He takes another step back, then doubles over with a groan. 

Barclay hurries across the threshold, setting the bags on the floor and steadying him over to the couch.

“Fuck, do you need me to get you like a heat pack, or a puke bucket?”

“No, no I just need to lay down, and for you to g-” he shudders, curling in on himself and tipping sideways. 

“Joseph, you’re really sick, I’m not gonna just leave you here. I mean, fuck, what if it’s your appendix or something?” He sits down next to the shaking man, rubbing his back comfortingly. 

“It’s not, I promise. Oh lord” he whines, looks at Barclay with frantic eyes, “I hope you can keep a secret.”

“Of course I can. Whatever I can do to help, I want to.” 

“Careful with those promises, big guy.” The nickname comes out in a growl as Joseph stands, undoing his wristwatch. 

“Oh FUCK!” Barclay scrambles back, almost falling over the arm of the couch.

There’s a monster where Joseph just was. Years ago Barclay saw a Maned Wolf in a zoo, and he’d swear that’s what he’s looking at now were it not for several glaring issues. First, it’s standing comfortably on two legs. It’s paws are more like hands, able to hold the watch and adjust the collar of its shirt. And he’s never seen a wolf, maned or otherwise, with spines down its back and a whip-like tail.

The creature runs a clawed hand through the fur at the top of it’s head, the way Joseph does when he’s nervous,  “So. I can’t tell you everything, at least not right now. What I can tell you is that this is the form I was born into, somewhere far away from earth.”

“Okay.” Barclays brain grinds like a broken ice machine as a familiar voice speaks to him from a fanged mouth. 

“I, um, I’m what humans call a Chupacabra. To answer the usual questions: no, I’ve never been to Puerto Rico. No, I don’t eat goats. And no, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Okay.” His heart is still racing, but not from fear, which is the most confusing was this could have gone.

Pointed ears flick, worried, “Are you in shock?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He nods as Joseph sits next to him with a heavy sigh. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I took the next few days off to avoid this exact scenario. I figured I wouldn’t see you, but forgot how thoughtful and caring you are.” Claws gently stroke Barclays hair, “my wonderful Barclay.”

He’s about to bring his hand up, cup those strange fingers to his cheek and whisper “always”, when Joseph pulls away. 

“I, I’m sorry. Again. I always get too handsy when I’m in heat. That’s the second worst side-effect, after the fact that being in my disguise is untenable when I’m in the thick of it. It’s like wearing a wet, wool sweater made of nausea.”

“....Hold on, you had to take time off work because you’re horny?” 

“Almost. Heat doesn’t come that often for me, which means whenever it happens, it’s intense. I have a hard time eating or sleeping, I can’t focus, and I spend most of the week masturbating. Which is not as fun as it sounds; I’m not even at the height of the damn thing and last night I humped a pillow on the kitchen floor while dinner reheated.”

Barclay groans, tries to hide it when the ears swivel his way, “Uh, guess I’m glad I brought you lots of food so you remember to eat. Shoulda, uh, put some lube or something in there as well, huh?” 

Joseph chuckles, “My nose tells me you put molasses cookies in there, so I’ll let it slide.”

“There anything else I can do to help?”

“Well…” he shakes his head, “never mind, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“My heat is more manageable when I have a partner. Fucking someone relieves things more effectively than masturbation does. But I can’t-”

“I can help with that.” The offer is out before his brain catches up with his mouth. 

“Barclay, my kind have a very, um, involved mode of, um, well, I guess you foreplay. As, as much as I’d love for you to be my mate” he winces, “see, that’s what I mean. I say things like that, most of them not even possible given the fact you and I can’t reproduce.” 

“Uh, does it help if I say hearing you call me that is really hot?”

Blue eyes widen, and a tail traces up Barclays leg, “Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

A narrow, long tongue flicks into the air, “In that case, big guy, how about we have a little planning session over dinner?”

-------------------------------------------------

Barclay parks in the driveway, next to Josephs’ sedan. He heads past the house and down a short slope to a creek, the twilight sky casting the forest in eerie grey-blue. There’s a tire swing leftover from a previous resident, and he idly pushes it back and forth as he waits for the game to start. 

“It’s like hide and seek” Joseph wipes his mouth, cleans cookie crumbs from the table, “We start outside, move inside, and you go as long as you can without me catching you. After all, I want a mate who can hold his own.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket to warm them. A yip bounces out from the trees behind him. When he turns, he quickly spots glinting eyes and bared fangs hidden in the undergrowth. 

Sprinting towards the cabin, he realizes Joseph laid a trap for him from the start; by asking him to begin at the creek, he’s forcing him to run uphill to safety, slowing him down. He lets his lizard-brain, concerned only with the fact that something dangerous is chasing him, take over and drive his legs as fast as they’ll go. The back door is locked, he double-checked that on the way down, so he doesn’t waste his time trying it, races to the front of the cabin and slams the door shut just as something huge rounds the corner after him. 

The nob jiggles, his pursuer testing the lock and discovering the thrown deadbolt. Barclay uses those few seconds to secure the windows on the first floor, throws his jacket down into the cellar as a failsafe, and bolts up to the bedroom. His hammering heart insists that locking that door is not enough, so he crawls into the closet and shuts himself up among the meticulously organized shirts and slacks. It’s not enough space for him to stand, so he tucks his knees to his chest and waits. 

“What happens if I, like, completely outsmart you.”

A toothy smile, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Each of the downstairs windows rattle in turn. Then the scratching starts, claws on wood coming closer with each breath. Joseph is climbing the wall up to the bedroom window that Barclay knows for a motherfucking fact he did not secure. 

A shuff as the window slides open, the cryptid landing with remarkable stealth on the bedroom floor. Barclay tracks him by the light coming under the closet door, his mouth covered so his breathing won’t give him away. The shadow pauses, sniffs, and then the bedroom door opens and shuts. Barclay’s not moving until he hears the front door do the same. 

Just as his legs start to protest being smushed up against his chest, the door reopens. Snuffling signals Joseph closing in, and an instant later the only light coming in is from the far ends of the door. Slowly, his last line of defense rolls to the right, revealing the creature crouching on the other side.

“Not a bad effort, big guy. You actually confused me for a minute with the scent trail of your coat downstairs.” Joseph reaches for him and Barclay, remembering that he’s not supposed to give up until he’s pinned, leans away. 

“That’s how my mate wants to play?”

“J-just following your instructions, babe.”

An intrigued purr, “I guess you are. All the more reason you’re the perfect partner for me.”

The words Barclays dreamed of hearing for months distract from the claws closing around his ankles. He lets out an undignified yelp when Joseph pulls his legs straight out and drags him out of the closet. Once he’s free of the forest of clothing, the cryptid picks him up and drops him on the bed. He moans and Joseph snickers, joining him on the bedspread. 

“Fuck, Joseph, no one’s ever been able to do that before and it’s so, so fucking hot.” He arches his back and shifts his limbs to help Joseph undress him.

“It’s because you’re the perfect size; big and strong, large enough to give me a decent cuddle when I’m human, but still small enough to be an easily subdued mate.” He gets the humans’ jeans and boxers off, hesitates, and then tosses them on the floor with a pained expression, “I’ll fold those later.”

“Gonna hold you to that. Also, wanna point out that it wasn’t that easy to subdue me.”

Joseph nuzzles his cheek, claws caressing his thighs, “Barclay, I was jogging while you were sprinting.”

“You coulda caught me right awaAAy ohwhatthefuck.” Tingling heat glides down his throat as Joseph licks a stripe along the skin, “fuck, it, it feels like the time I tried hot wax.”

The cryptid sits up slightly to look at him, “Is that a...good thing?”

“Fuck yeah. I really fucking liked it but it was fucking murder with the chest hair.”

Joseph runs his claws through the hair in question, “I like it.”

“I know, I saw you eyeing me that one time I used the springs at the lodge.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Joseph leans back down, curling his tongue around Barclays left nipple. The sensation makes him buck his hips, which Joseph correctly takes as a signal for more. He moves to the other side, takes his time teasing it and licking down the sensitive center of Barclays chest. Noses his stomach, nips his sides, and slides the alien heat of his tongue into the crease of his thighs. 

“Y’know I, ohfuck, I assumed from all that talk yesterday you’d get right to fucking me.”

Joseph kisses the inside of one thigh, “I, um, I thought about it, almost ripped your jeans to shreds and took you on the floor. But I wanted to be sure you were turned on. You’re not just a warm body, Barclay. You’re my mate. That means your pleasure matters as much as mine.” He licks up Barclays’ cock, hardened from rubbing against the soft fur of his belly, and sighs, “and what a mate.”

“Fuck” he squeezes his eyes closed because if we watches that mouth saying everything he wants to hear in between sucking his dick, he’ll cum in ten seconds flat. 

A final lick to the tip and then Joseph hops off the bed, “Did you prep the way I told you?”

“Uhhuh.” 

“Good.” Joseph returns, sets several items he can’t see by his feet, “that’ll make things easier. First things first” he produces a cock cage, sliding it into place, “these are a few things I smuggled over from my original home. This is enchanted, so it can go on an erect cock but still prevent the wearer from cumming until it’s removed.”

“That’s just cruel, babe.” He sits up on his elbows to kiss Josephs snout, earning him a pleased yip. 

“If you cum too fast, I won’t be able to properly breed you.” He winces again, “sorry, I sound like one of Indrids romance novels.”

“Again, gorgeous, I find it really fucking hot.”

The spines on Joseph’s back ripple, “You think I’m gorgeous? Like this?”

“I do. Also kinda scary, but in a hot way.” Now it’s his turn to cringe, “see? I sound like cheap porn written by an eighth grader when I’m horny. The way you sound is fine.”

Joseph lovebites his ear, then retrieves the other two items from the end of the bed. 

“And how does this look, big guy?”

“Like it’s either going to kill me or make me cum like a dozen times.” He furrows his brow at the strap-on. It’s narrower than the average human dick, with a pointed, slightly up-curved tip. What’s worrying him are the spikes. 

The entire shaft is coated in short protrusions. They don’t end in points, thank god, but if they’re at all stiff this is going to be miserable. 

“Here” Joseph waves him over, “touch it.” He guides his fingers along one side and the spines bend fluidly under his touch, and now all he wants to know is how they feel inside him. Joseph also moans, bucking his hips so the toy slides along Barclays palm.

“It’s, ohlord, also enchanted so that the wearer feels it as an extension of their body and can cum with it. Also, please decide in the next thirty seconds whether you want to be on your back or your stomach.” Amber pre-cum drips down Barclay’s fingers. 

“Stomach is better for meWHOAH, ohfuck, okay we’re doing this.” Now flipped on his belly, he raises his ass. The cryptid kneads it appreciatively before holding it open and sliding his cock in with once, graceful thrust. 

He bottoms out with a groan, which is more articulate than Barclay is managing to be as the spines rub and glide inside him, finding every patch of nerves, every angle to drag against in just the right way. Joseph hauls him onto his knees and then he’s off, growls and yips filling the as he fucks him. Barclay only just registers the bed banging into the wall so forcefully the headboard is cracking when claws sink into his hips and Joseph pulls him all the way onto his cock and pulses into him. 

“Holy fuck that was fast.”

“I, I didn’t jack off once today. Didn’t want to waste it, wanted to save it all for my perfect mate.” He’s thrusting again, not as hard but twice as fast, “shit, you feel so good, big guy, please tell me Mama okayed your time off for tomorrow.”

“Wh-why are we talkingAHnnn, about this now?”

Hot breath tickles his ear, “Because now that I know what’s like to cum in you, I don’t plan on cumming anywhere else for the next day and a half.”

“Ohfuckme” Barclay groans happily into the pillows as Joseph empties into him, cries out when his tail whips across his calf.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, no it felt good, fucking-A babe every fucking part of you is amazing.”

The cryptid whines, pleased, and wiggles his hips, giving Barclay an idea. 

“That’s, uh, that’s why I want you for my mate, because you’re so fucking goo-mmph” his face presses harder into the pillows as Joseph pins his shoulders down and fucks into him, snarling “yes” over and over again. When he finishes this time he hunches over, nipping Barclay’ shoulders and neck. 

“You catch on quick, big guy.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, are we gonna switch it up at any point or am I staying like this until tomorrow night?”

“No, we can fuck however we want. After” a fuzzy hand rubs circles on Barclay’s abdomen, “I’ve cum in you enough times that I can feel it from out here.”

Barclay moans, tightening around him as his hips snap once more, already imagining being full and fucked out. Maybe it’ll take all night. He’ll be limp if it does, but right now nothing sounds better than melting into the bed while Joseph fucks his ass like it belongs to him. 

After forty-five minutes, his cock is aching, his mind holds only thoughts of how good it feels to do as Joseph tells him, and he’s been cum in so many times that wet, obscene sounds accompany the cryptids thrusts. Said sounds pale in comparison to Josephs’ voice, which is spinning increasingly impossible scenarios the longer they’re in bed. 

“I hope they take after you.” Joseph murmurs. 

Barclay just manages to turn his head, “Who?”

A muzzle playfully nudges his cheek, “Our kids.”

His heart seizes and shakes at the words; they both know that’s not what will happen. Joseph warned him he might say things like this, said he could tell him to knock it off if need be. 

“Maybe they’ll, ahnn, they’ll have big, beautiful brown eyes and bigger hearts, just like you.”

He doesn’t want him to stop. Every thrust hits deeper, every point where their skin meets buzzes brighter when he talks like this.

“H-hope at least one looks like you, blue eyes.”

A guttural whine, tingling heat as Joseph laps tenderly at the back of his neck, “We’ll just have to see, usually we’re born in threes so, soOH, oh I’m close, shitshit” 

“That’s it babe, fill me up, c’mon, c’mon I want it so bad, Joseph, baby, please.” 

There’s a howltrill as cum spurts into him, Joseph panting as he smooths his hand around Barclays side.

“There, that’s done it.”

Barclay whimpers as he pulls out, his mind and body pulled tight, certain that if he doesn’t cum soon he’ll propose marriage instead and that’ll be a fucking disaster. 

Joseph carefully rolls him over and unlocks the cage, “Do you want to cum?”

“More than anything. Oh!” he’s unprepared for Joseph to sink down on his cock, “oh fuck, yeah, wanna cum so bad babe please, I’ll be so good, be such a good mate if you just let me cum in y-fuuuck” A trio of sensations levels him as he climaxes; his vision whites out, his hips jerk more violently than they ever have before, and a line of cum drips down his leg. 

Somewhere far away, Joseph says, “I think we’ve earned a break.”

He nods, body limp as the cryptid climbs off him. Then he’s falling, spinning helplessly down in a pit of realizations. 

Joseph didn’t mean any of those things he said. His friend needed a mate and Barclay, lovesick fool he is, was eager for a chance to play pretend that he didn’t think about what would happen when the game ended. Even if Joseph keeps him here through tomorrow, the next time they meet at the Lodge he’ll act like nothing happened. 

Fuck, Barclay didn’t even get to kiss him during all this, and now he’ll never get the chance, never, nevernever-

“Shit, I should have put a towel or a spare blanket down. Now I’ll have to strip the bed before I can--Barclay? Oh, oh baby, what’s wrong?” A hand pets his face and he turns away from it, refusing to open his eyes. Joseph takes his hand instead, “it’s okay, I’m here, whatever you need I’ll-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t give me what I need, it isn’t your fault I, I know I’m not really your partner and I, I…” he sniffles, wipes his palm under his eye. 

“Barclay, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Joseph dip down and kiss him. It’s awkward, their mouths not made to fit together, but he savors it all the same because it’s Joseph, his Joseph, kissing him like he hoped he would. 

“My heat can make me say some ridiculous things. What it can’t do is make me feel affection where none exists. In fact, the reason I wasn’t able to keep my disguise on yesterday is because being near you meant being near the mate I wanted most in the world. I, um, suspected you might share my feelings, but I didn’t want our first interaction as boyfriend to be me asking if you wanted to spend a day or so with me while I was in a sex haze. But then you offered to help, and I wanted it so badly that I barreled ahead without making sure you understood that this was me declaring my feelings. I’m sorry.”

Barclay climbs into his lap, not caring about the mess he makes in the process. The cryptid laughs, hugs him close.

“I, I shoulda said something sooner too. Not that I regret how we spent our first date.” He kisses Josephs chin.

“Me neither, though I don’t think it quite counts.” He rubs their foreheads together, “can your boyfriend take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Barclay grins, looks into loving, blue eyes, “Yeah, he can.”

[dokifluffs]

thank you for the happiest years of my life

warning: *spoilers to like parts of basically the entire show and manga but also mostly crack. soo you have been warned* also warning, l o n g

thank you hinata for your toilet song and your sunshine persona, never giving up and also all your bowel issues getting you in the most uncomfy situations with other teams, for being the greatest decoy thank you kageyama for your jingru bell, jingru bell and all your hinata boke’s, milk breaks, and probably deformation of hinata’s skull from how many times you grabbed it thank you tsuki for your arara gomen and being tol boi #1with great character development but also staying the sassiest one omfg thank you yamagucci for your gomen, tsukki and being tol boi #2 with superb confidence building thank you yachi for being the best townsperson B thank you tanaka for killing dadchi. Tanaka, nice kill! and being literally one of the best characters thank you noya for your rolling thundas and being the coolest senpai and being karasuno’s guardian and also choosing to come to karasuno simply because you liked the girls’ uniforms thank you ennoshita for being best dad #2 and tutoring tanaka and noya thank you kinoshita and narita for existing even tho you two are the most slept on akjhdkad thank you suga for being the best mom and also singing under the sea  thank you asahi for being unintentionally scary and dressing up as jesus evry year for karasuno christmas  thank you kiyoko for always looking out for karasuno  thank you dadchi- deadchi- daichi for being best dad #1 thank you takeda for being the teacher sponsor of the club and having the best quotes out there homie, you really big brain thank you ukai junior for reminding the crows that volleyball is a game where you look up 

Thank you Karasuno, for teaching me to fly

thank you oikawa for teaching me that instinct is something you polish, talent is something you bloom. also for all your yoho, tobio chan’s and milk bread being your favorite food, for hitting it till it breaks. you were always enough and i wish we could’ve seen you bring your team to nationals. hope your knee gets soon buddy thank you iwa for always calling oikawa shittykawa and etc. best bestie out there and also, you did your best. you are not a failure as an ace for aoba johsai. also thank you for making sure oikawa rested  thank you mattsun and makki for being such an iconic duo  thank you kunimi for sticking out your tongue in season 4  thank you kindaichi for being onion head and having a great character development thank you kyotani for making me intimidated of an anime character like bruh. homie, your back said “C”-  thank you yahaba for being best setter #2 tehe and also putting kyotani in his place  thank you watari for being Aoba johsai’s guardian and being tanaka written in cursive thank you yuda, sawauchi, and shido even if i didnt pay you any attention adkjah im sorry 

thank you Aoba Johsai for teaching me how to rule the court 

thank you kuroo for your hyena laugh, befriending kenma when you moved in next door, and being literally everything  thank you kenma for being best pudding head and being the best sugar daddy after the time skip to our hina baby  thank you lev for being long boi and having one of the best glow ups in s4 like literally scrumptious. Cant want to see your time skip animated and also, you’re gonna be a great nekoma ace one day bb  thank you yaku for being literally the best libero im sorry noya kajdhas omg akjda goals and also putting lev in his place  thank you shibayama for stepping in as libero when yaku got hurt in land vs. sky you did great bb  thank you yamamoto for being tanaka written in magnum sharpie, punk font and getting into a dispute with Tanaka on S I T E thank you teshiro for being best setter #2 uwu  thank you kai for being one of many underrated characters that should’ve gotten more  thank you teshiro for looking the most like a cat and being a pinch server thank you inuoka for being a lil sunshine too 

thank you Nekoma for teaching me how to connect

thank you bokuto for serving all of us your juicy a$$ but also being the best hype boi out there, capable of being so strong and proving to be so much stronger by growing out of your emo modes, for making akaashi choose to come to fukurodani thank you akaashi for playing with your fingers, for always looking out for bokuto, teaching all of us that we are the protagonists of the world, having a list of his weaknesses memorized thank you konoha for doing what we all wanna do and knee bokuto’s voluptuous ass thank you waisho for being like a normal lookin type bokuto  thank you sarukui, anahori, komi, and onaga for being part of this great team and also boosting bokuto up

thank you fukrodani for teaching me how to pour my soul into everything (every ball) 

thank you ushijima for teaching me how to harvest and farm for the ripest of fruits thank you tendo for BAKI BAKI NI ORAE NANI WO and being a weeb too. you were never a monster as a child or ever in your life  thank you goshiki for being female jirou from my hero academia and also realizing how much you need to improve at the end of s3. made me cry man  thank you semi for being suga in punk rock font  thank you reon for being you cause you rock homie. you and kai would so vibe together man. good vibes all around thank you soekawa, yunohama, kawanishi, and sagae for existing even though yall were slept on thank you yamagata and akakura for having shiratorizawa’s back’s as liberos thank you shirabu for using ushijima to your disposal like he wished. you gon be a great doctor bb

thank you shiratorizawa for teaching me how to have an intense force to my persona thank you aone for being the best iron wall and having the cutest friendship with hinata like omg his current fear is no one wanting to sit near him on the metro akdjhahds i’ll sit with you  thank you koganegawa for being the best angry bird bb  thank you Futakuchi for getting knocked over when you chest bumped aone  thank you obara, onagawa, and fukiage for existinggg thank you sakunami for having Dateko’s backs 

thank you dateko student section for making the most iconic cheer out of the entire show that’ll never die also, check out the live action stage ones akjdhas nekoma is stuck in my head 

thank you dateko for having the best cheer in the show 

thank you saeko nee-san for being the best tokyo drift driver out there with your Taiko team and being the best leader leading the karasuno cheers for da bois thank you karasuno’s voice principal for not expelling our two celled boyos, kageyama and hinata   thank you third gym for all the oya oya’s  thank you bokuto for hooking tsuki onto volleyball when he blocked ushi  thank you takeda for scaring ukai junior in season 1 when he repeatedly went back to beg him to be the coach for karasuno, begging to so many coaches and making sure they could have practice matches with other schools thank you to hinata’s tennis friend who taught him how to splatter step(?) thank you ukai senior for teaching them about the tempos thank you to the old guy that goes to every karasuno game even tho literally no one knows him bruh  thank you to Shimada for teaching our bb boi yams to float serve thank you for the twins and sakusa and so many more teams  thank you for bringing us to brazil with hinata, reuniting him and oikawa  thank you for all the commercial breaks  thank you for all the memes aka haikyuu dubbed thank you for all the radio shows with characters we may never get to see on the screen together thank you tsukki for pressing hinata’s diahrea spot thank you for dub yams’ he he he waluigi laugh thank you hinata for inspiring asahi to join the team again thank you kageyama for probably breaking hinata’s back so many times by kicking him  thank you asahi for calling out to suga  thank you kageyama for scaring the living shit out of hinata when he hit you in the back of the head with his rushed serve in season 1 in the practice match against aoba johsai thank you for all the meat buns eaten after practice, the popsicles nishinoya ate in two bites thank you noya for all the epic saves and pancakes you dove for  thank you for kageyama’s “nuff, nis, niceu-” to tsukki  thank you for tanaka and noya and yamamoto for all women are queens club  thank you suguru for getting under kuroo’s skin and making him petty asf in land vs sky  thank you alisa for being literally breathing, you and lev look so goodd post time skip like haiba sibs rule the world thank you tv that hinata had happened to be passing by, playing the game with the little giant, inspiring him to go to karasuno  thank you kageyama’s grandpa for getting him into volleyball 🥺 thank you for all the races while running, all the flying receive laps, the hill runs, the training camps, practice matches thank you for all the disputes that could happen before all the gears could be made and put into place  thank you kiyoko for saying that tanaka for some reason looks good with a banana thank you for the meat god dance, the serve cheer poses  thank you for making me love volleyball tenfold thank you for moi pon  thank you kageyama for telling hinata that he’s the greatest when he’s around, giving him his first official toss thank you hinata for telling kageyama that he sets just fine

thank you to all the voice actors for starting and staying through all the years to bring all our favorites to life, never failing us once

thank you spyair, burnout syndromes, tacica, nico touches the walls, sukima switch, galileo galilei, and more for so many amazing ops and eps

thank you for all the memories, all the laughs, cheers, heart racing moments, the moments that made us grip onto pillows, the edge of our seats, tears, addicting chants, making me simp for like 50 people, making my cheeks hurt from smiling so much, my voice raspy for cheering and screaming so much. 

thank you to this fandom for being like a second family, sharing all our love and crackheadedness 

thank you for the happiest years of my life

thank you haikyuu, thank you Furudate for bringing this amazing story to all of us and touching our lives with it 

[chloroformthelittleb4stard]

Family Relations - Part 4

Summary: Your criminology teacher is acting all kinds of weird, which is the norm, except for the part where his eyes glaze over and he tries to kill someone. Stiles, the hero he is, tries to stop your professor with little avail until he gets some unnoticeable help from you. Stiles seems to find himself with you at the location of multiple attacks, just barely making it out alive. Through the bloodshed feelings, family, and friends mix to create a perfect blend of chaos and calm.

T/CW: Blood, gore, like a lot of fucking gore, swearing, body horror?

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I hope it's worth it. This is a long chapter but because the first part is short I put a time skip in the middle of it, that's what the = means. P.S - Happy mother's day!

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You'd convinced him to stay with you for the night because of what you were absolutely sure Allison and Scott's "after-pack-meeting" activities would include. It wasn't hard, as soon as you mentioned the prospect of Stiles' precious sleep being interrupted by their shenanigans he was on board with staying at yours. Your dorm had two beds, you'd been lucky and not gotten a roommate, a blessing and a curse really. You'd laid the sheets out and gotten your extra pillow, all ready for Stiles to get to sleep. The only problem was, Stiles wasn't particularly interested in sleep yet. You'd had a long day, mostly it was just that bout of magical fighting that wore you out but still, you were tired, and Stiles simply didn't want to be in silence.

"So, Y/n..." You'd been listening to the sound of Stiles fidget like mad, and you were wondering when he was going to snap and finally talk to you.

"Yes." Your tone was smooth and song-like. Despite needing sleep desperately you wanted to talk to Stiles, he was fun to talk to. You'd always been kind of a loner, it was easier to stay hidden that way, but you didn't need to hide with Stiles and it felt fucking amazing.

"What's D.C like?" He didn't look at you when he asked, staring straight up at the ceiling, but you were happy to stare at him, studying the moles on his cheek and the way his hair laid against the pillow.

"It's, interesting." He snorted, turning to you as you whipped your head away so you didn't get caught staring.

"Care to elaborate on that?" He had a dopey smile on his face, looking at your side profile like his life depended on it while he waited for you to respond. You felt his gaze burning your skin, it was a burn you could get used to.

"I don't know what you want me to say. Traffic's a bitch if you live in D.C, that's for sure. It took me half a hour to go eight miles from my house to school." He sucked in a breath at the statement, like simply hearing about traffic that bad was physically paining him.

"Good thing is if you live in the city you don't really need a car. My mom didn't have a car, neither did any of my babysitters, so we took the metro and the subway everywhere." He hummed, like the thought of the subway actually pleased him.

"I'm going to be in the city, that's for sure. FBI headquarters is on Pennsylvania ave." His muttering made you giggle, surprised that he knew so much about the landscape.

"You've been there before?" Your smile was wide from laughter and you didn't even care if you looked like an idiot, you were having fun.

"Yeah, once. I looked at going to George Washington so when I toured we stopped by. It's a really ugly building by the way, they should fix that." He was quirking a smile as well, glancing between you and the ceiling to try and look discreet.

"Yeah they should." You were trying to be quiet for the sake of your dorm mates but you were having trouble, Stiles was funny and it felt so good to laugh. You hadn't laughed like this in years, always too stressed to find anything amusing.

"So, what's is like rooming with Scott?" He made a vague hum of mediocrity, shrugging and leaving it at that.

"Care to elaborate on that?" You giggled using his words against him.

"It's good, we've been like brothers since we were little kids so it's really not that big of a difference. We spent a lot of time together at my house because my dad was gone a lot so living with him is kinda familiar." You felt a pang of sympathy when he said his dad was away, you thought back to your dad and how absent he'd been. The memories cut off almost as suddenly as they'd started.

"What about your mom?" He took a deep breath, he had a slight frown on his face and you knew immediately that you'd hit a nerve.

"She died, when I was a kid. She had a type of dementia and it, killed her." He was fully frowning now, and he was no longer fully with you, his eyes had glazed over and he was staring right through you. He shook his head and came back, frown gone and a small smile took its place.

"I'm sorry, both for what happened and that I brought it up."

"It's ok, it's been a long time and it brought me and my dad really close so it wasn't all bad." His silver lining was slim, slimmer than was arguably debatable to even count as a silver lining, but you didn't argue. He'd shared enough of his past with you, and you felt honored by the confession even if you did accidentally cause it to happen by asking. The fact that he shared something with you meant a lot.

"My mom died too, she was hit by a car when I was 13 and she died in surgery." The air was tense, but Stiles' expression and morphed from fake stability to real sympathy as your eyes locked and you tried to comfort each other without words. You fell asleep shortly after that, Stiles had stayed quiet for more than five minutes and that was all it took for sleep to wave its wand and take you under it's control.

==

Screams woke you up, screams from within your dorm. They woke Stiles up too and you both sprung to get re-dressed properly, rushing out the door as soon as you'd slipped your shoes on. The screaming was coming from down the hall and you already had a sinking feeling what had happened.

It wasn't uncommon for your fellow dorm dwellers to leave their doors open, it helped circulate cool air in the desert that was California. Being born and raised in D.C left you significantly more paranoid than most of them however, and so you decided you'd rather just suffer the heat than the possibility of getting robbed blind. You'd told some people in the common room at the beginning of the year about your fear and they'd all but laughed at you, saying that nothing like that happened here. You'd never wanted to have been so wrong in your life.

One door was already wide open, and blood was smeared on several other doors, also open. It seemed that the killer had gone down the hall, checking who decided it was too hot to save their lives. The first body was in the doorway of the room three doors up from yours. It was sprawled out on the floor and you and Stiles nodded, agreeing not to go into the room considering the carpet was currently soaking up the victim's blood. It seemed there were plenty of others anyways.

Room after room, one slaughtered college student after another left you feeling ill beyond belief. You didn't need to be told what had happened, you already knew. You had never actually had the chance to see what happened when the killer was finished with their dirty work, what they did to the people they used as instruments of mass murder. Sadly it seems you didn't have to go searching to find out. At the end of the hall was another body, this time with a knife in its hand, most likely from the kitchen in the common room. Its throat was cut, much like all the other victims.

The screaming had long stopped, you assumed it came from one of the other residents who peeked out into the hallway and saw what looked like a scene from an upcoming Scream 5. Stiles was bent over the body, examining what you assumed was its deadness.

"Whatcha looking at?" He gave you a vague noise of acknowledgment before standing up and looking at you with a face slightly paler than it was before he bent down.

"I think you should see this Y/n." You squatted down next to the corpse, examining its overall lack of life and raising an inquisitive eyebrow up at Stiles.

"Look in her throat, through the cut." You'd really planned not to come this close to a corpse in your life. What's that saying? Make a plan and the universe laughs.

The throat was indeed, mostly just bloody and disgusting, but also intriguing. The windpipe and both carotid arteries were slashed straight through, a feat that was essentially impossible to do for the normal non-possessed human. In the back of the windpipe, which you could just barely see through the cut, there was a small mark. You dug your phone out of your back pocket, almost dropping it with how much your hands were shaking, and turned your flashlight on to it's brightest setting so you could see the mark clearly.

It was a small symbol, lines and swirls within a small circle that struck you as soon as you saw it. With a soft thud your ass met the ground as your precarious balancing act failed and you fell from your squatting position.

"Are you ok?" Stiles' voice was lost as your brain went into panic mode, the new found information stirring up a whirlwind of anxiety.

"We need to get out of here. Like, right now." Scrambling up from the blood soaked floor you made your way back to your dorm room, dragging a confused Stiles behind you asking a million and one questions.

Without answering any of them you grabbed your nearest backpack and started destroying your dorm room in an attempt to gather all of your most important belongings, a mix of underwear, clothes, and books thrown into your worn backpack.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me or do I get an explanation for why we need to leave your dorm room? Y'know other than the murdered college students..."  Stiles had passed the stage of being thoroughly confused by you, that ship sailed when you fought off the vine that attacked you both. Now however, he was fed up with not having answers to the predicament you now found yourselves in.

"Can I explain it to you in the car? We need to leave ASAP."

"The car has a name, it's Roscoe." You rolled your eyes, of course he named his car, and of course now is the best possible moment to tell you.

"Less talking more walking please."

"Sorry." The keys jingled as he grabbed them and yours, tossing your purple keychain to you so you could lock up. You took the stairs two at a time, almost tripping over Stiles in your haste to get out of the building.

The car seats were cold when you got in but you couldn't be more awake than you already were, adrenaline and fear coursing through your blood, the symbol seemingly burned into the back of your eyelids, haunting you whenever you so much as blinked. Stiles booked it out of the parking lot, Roscoe's tires making an awful screeching noise as he turned while reversing, a move that would have scared you had there not been the max amount of fear already happening.

"So, explanation." He raised an expectant eyebrow at you, biting his tongue to let you answer before he spiraled into asking questions without enough time for you to answer them.

"Uh, do werewolves have symbols for different concepts, like danger and stuff?"

"Y-yeah they do, there's one for revenge it's a spiral. Why?" A spiral, of course the supernatural weren't creative when it came to symbol differences.

"Ok well witches do, it's called the witches' alphabet, it's a few symbols they mean stuff, the one we just saw in the corpse was the symbol for revenge. It's used to channel the chosen energy into whatever magic you cast." Your voice was shaking, the lack of oxygen in your system making you feel light headed, or maybe that was the endorphins, who knows.

"Ok, so what does that mean?" Stiles was shaking as well, not liking the sound of any more revenge business. He had to deal with this once before, he didn't want a repeat supernatural problem.

"It means that whoever cast the spell is one, vengeful, two, meeting the victims beforehand to get the symbol on them. This is bad, like, really bad." You had to actively sit on your hands to stop their fidgeting, the nervous energy bubbling inside your body like a volcano.

"Just what we need, a witch who wants vengeance. Was a normal evil witch not enough?!" Stiles' comment made you chuckle, the breathy act brought a twitch of a smile to his face, your happiness spreading to him in the midst of your crisis.

"Apparently not. Where are you going, the dorms are the opposite way."

"I don't know, I didn't want to take you back to Scott until I knew what was going on so I kind of just started driving around." Had you not been stressed beyond belief at the moment you would have been endeared by Stiles' care for his friend and roommate, but at the moment it was just irritating.

"You just drove us in the middle of the night down a street you have no idea where it leads? Really Stiles?! Take us to Scott, now." You were fuming but upon seeing the dejected look in Stiles' eyes at your harsh tone you were reminded as to how hard this entire situation must be for a normal human, werewolf pack member or not.

"Please. Could you please take us to Scott." Your manners had escaped you for a moment but with the regaining of your senses they came back.  A pang of guilt struck you at how mean you'd been to the brunette next to you. Reaching out for his hand which was resting on the stick-shift you hoped silently that he would accept your unspoken apology. He did accept, a blush rising to his cheeks at the skin-to-skin contact that you initiated and a smile creeping on his face.

Moments after your mutual flush and giddiness over the contact Stiles pulled up into the parking lot of his own dorm, the tar lit up just barely by a floodlight near the sidewalk. Unwinding his fingers from yours he was the first to get out of the car, you following shortly after, the cold air hitting your bare shoulders per your tank top which you just now realized was covered in blood.

Rushing to Stiles' side you wrapped your arms around your torso to try and cover the evidence of your dorm's activities, only to realize that your arms were the source of the problem. A mix of various people's blood was coating your arms, the red solution drying crusty on your skin. Thankfully it was the middle of the night, the darkness mostly covering your blood-stained everything.

Looking over at the mole-covered man next to you you took in the sight of him, surprisingly not covered entirely in blood. He had spots of it on his hoodie, only barely visible thanks to the floodlight, but he'd managed to stay clear of the mess, something you were currently jealous of. You wouldn't be able to take a shower until you were back in your own dorm and you were really dreading the idea of having to wash off both of your arms in the small dorm sinks.

Stiles opened the door for you and the heat influx from the building was a welcome change, the goosebumps immediately vacating your skin. You both headed up to his dorm in relative silence, trying not to wake his neighbors up. It was a harder feat than it should have been, given how often Stiles almost tripped on the single flight of stairs up to his shared room.

You could hear snoring coming from one of the beds, presumably Scott's, and the embarrassing situation you'd found your friend in made you momentarily forget your current predicament. In the darkness you could see two bodies in Scott's bed, the smaller one of which you assumed was Allison, tucked under her boyfriend's arm. They were sleeping so peacefully you almost felt bad to wake them, Stiles however, did not. With a loud enough greeting and the swift act of turning on all of the lights in their dorm, he woke his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend up with a startle.

"Stiles! They were sleeping!" You'd wanted to put up a semblance of good will with the woman you'd met less than 24 hours ago but in reality you were stifling a laugh, biting your tongue to keep from bursting out. The couple let out groans of protest at being woken up in the wee hours of the morning but got up eventually anyways, thankfully somewhat dressed after what you were still convinced their nightly activities consisted of.

"What the hell dude?" The were-wolf's voice was groggy from sleep and the rough scratch in his throat reminded you of Stiles' voice less than two hours ago when you were woken up by screaming neighbors.

"Sorry but you really can't be asleep right now, also yes that is blood on Y/n's, well everywhere, I will explain that in a minute. Allison could you help her clean up? Scott I need to talk to you." Nodding Allison took immediate heed to Stiles' request and looked carefully for a space to lead you that wasn't covered in blood before eventually deciding 'fuck it' and grabbing one of your slowly drying arms, washing the blood off of the area in the small sink.

There wasn't a lot of space in the dorm for a private conversation but you and Allison made small talk in an attempt to give the boys some facade of privacy.

"So, rough night I guess?" She let out a small chuckle at her own joke while you allowed a smile to creep onto your face at the problem you had earlier found yourself in.

"You could say that. Someone decided it'd be a good idea to murder a solid percentage of my floor mates so, y'know, the night could have gone better." She gasped at that, the light air of the conversation having gone as soon as you brought up the traumatic events that had occurred.

"Murder? Oh God. By 'a solid percentage' you mean how many people exactly?" Your mind flashed through the bodies you'd seen, counting at least six in the haze of the night.

"Six, maybe more. I don't know for sure, it was a lot. We found who did it though, kind of." You wished that you were dealing with a normal murder where finding who did the killing actually solved your problem. Sadly, that wasn't the case and the situation was getting more and more fraught in your mind the more you stressed about it, the images and circumstances pulling the strings in your mind so tightly they were beginning to fray.

"Are you ok?" Allison's eyes were kind and you noted in the back of your brain to thank Scott that he had such good taste in girlfriends.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not hurt or anything, just a little shaken up." She nodded silently before going into nurse-mode and scanning your now-clean left arm.

"No scratches, all of this blood seems to be someone else's. I think most of the blood is other people's but I need to wash off the other arm to be sure."

"Be my guest, I wasn't feeling the whole blood-sleeve look anyways." You shrugged and let out a small giggle at your own joke, Allison following suit as she lathered up the ruined washcloth for another round of scrubbing.

You were in the process of cleaning the blood from underneath your fingernails when Stiles and Scott crept up behind you, interrupting the light bonding that you had started with Allison.

"Ok, we need to get out of here and go back home, right now." Scott took on more of a dominant personality when in charge and it made you glad that someone knew what to do, even if you didn't. You'd already grabbed spare clothes from your dorm room so you and Allison waited by the door nervously while Stiles and Scott scrambled to gather their most important belongings.

"Where is home?" You knew where you were from and where your home was, but you doubted that everyone would be game for catching a flight at almost 4 a.m.

"Beacon Hills, it's where we all met. Stiles and Scott are from there, so is most of the pack, I moved there sophomore year. The pack started in Beacon Hills, the town is like a beacon for the supernatural, it's probably the safest place to be because it's home territory, Scott's pack has been protecting it for years now."

"So Scott's the alpha?" It made sense given his natural leadership abilities and his friendliness, but it was still a little odd to see your friend as the strongest were-wolf out of the entire group you saw the other night.

"He's a true alpha too." You'd heard of true alphas, mostly by myth however, they were rare but the more you thought back on Scott's character the more it made sense. He was easily one of the most loyal people you'd met, and he was brave as well, fighting for people he didn't even know, or people he didn't know well. He was willing to risk his life to save the barista on the day of that attack, even willing to let her see him shift, it was only logical that he was a true alpha.

Your conversation was interrupted as it took all of five minutes for the two best friends to pack their things, swing the backpacks stuffed full of items over their shoulders before they led the way back down to the Jeep that was parked out front.

The ride was quiet and tense, Stiles in the front with you and Scott in the back with Allison, explaining the specifics of the situation that you had purposely left out because you didn't know how to explain it without making a joke out of it. Dark humor was quickly becoming your most solid coping mechanism for morbidity.

Scott went to protect Allison as she ran up to her dorm to grab her things as well, insisting that she tell her roommate she was going home so no one would file a missing person's report and make the entire situation more complicated.

She came back downstairs quickly, Scott in tow looking noticeably dazed as he held on to his girlfriend's hand when she plopped in the back of Stiles' Jeep. You let out a snort at what had most likely been a 'our lives are in danger' make out and let them have their secrecy as Stiles started up for what was the drive to Beacon Hills.

[zydrateacademy]

Current Activities in Gaming #224

Post #222 explains why I haven’t been posting much but it’s 30 minutes before work and Sims 4 keeps crashing during character creation on me so fuck it, gonna go down my recently played list.

Did a decent push on Outriders, but stuck on Challenge Tier 10. There’s a spike at 11 that I just can’t do, and I’ve been playing the meta technomancer. A fairly easy and high damage bullet build and despite all my gear being at-level, I just can’t survive CT11. I think Outriders is one of those “come back in a few months” type games. Some of the monster balancing is pissing me off. I’ve delved a bit back into Smite. MOBA as a genre is an itch I always have because I like the loop of killing minions, leveling up, and fighting officers. Problem is, nobody has figured out a single player variant yet. To get the ‘most’ out of MOBA you generally need to face against other players which is almost never fine. Smite has an Arena mode which I enjoy, a pure 5v5 skirmish without having to worry about jungles and random dive-ganks. So most of my PvP is in that mode. In wanting to get ready for the Mass Effect remasters, I loaded up Andromeda again and found out why it was so easy to drop. Some of the gameplay and planets are just a slog. Kadara is an incredibly boring narrative and despite enjoying the general gameplay loop, it’s always the planet I quit playing on. I quit on Kadara on my NG+ a while back, and I just did it again now, shortly before Outriders released. There’s no real way to “rush” through an ME game and while I’m excited for the remaster, I do not look forward to the constant Citadel fuckarounds between every story beat. They’re necessary, but the devs need to expedite the process. ME3, my favorite of the series, is actually the worst offender. After every major story mission, like twelve encounters pop up in the Citadel. To get the most war resources, you need to tap each and every one of them, as some of them lead to even bigger, more necessary encounters later on. You can even get some beloved side characters killed if you just burn through the story and do nothing else. Shit sucks.

I’ve preordered Life is Strange: True Colors. Happy about that. I skipped LiS2 because it follows some dudes and I did some cursory research and the narrative just didn’t interest me very much. I don’t think I ever beat Before the Storm because it just got a bit too depressing, considering we all knew Rachel’s fate to begin with.

I didn’t blog about it much but I dumped 248 hours into Cyberpunk 2077 when it came out. I’m in the previously stated “wait a few months” thing I mentioned for Outriders. I’ll get back to playing once they add an ingame barber shop to customize your character, or maybe a clothing transmog system. Those are my big two requirements right now. I spent a lot of time rerolling and burning through the prologue. Short of 250 hours and I never beat it, and some characters I hadn’t even met yet. I love being a sneaky lil shit and I can’t wait to get back to it, but it needs some TLC, tweaking, and content.

Those are the big few. Plenty of other smaller games I’ve played. Got a couple sniper games that just made me want to reinstall and play Sniper Elite 4. Some idle stuff. Torchlight 3 is boring as shit. Some other preorders I’m waiting for like Necromunda: Hired Gun. That looks interesting.

Now I hope I can get Sims 4 to survive past character creation.

[kinetic-elaboration]

100 Days of Writing: Day Eighty

Only took a couple days off this time, not two weeks--pretty good!

This project is courtesy of @the-wip-project and I’m also tagging my fellow participants @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold, @hopskipaway, @thelittlefanpire, @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @dylanobrienisbatman, and @fontainebleau22. 

Day 78: Fanfic or original, which fandoms/genres do you like to write?

I think I’m pretty diverse in my genre preferences, at least in terms of “fanfic genres.” I’ve written fluff, angst, canon-verse, modern AU (adult/college/high school). I’ve written horror. The nature of the fandoms I’ve been in means that I’ve written sci fi. I’ve tried a little bit of adventure-type stories (at least if you define ‘adventure’ broadly enough lol) and some supernatural-type stories, also. I even wrote a Western (thanks Troped), which was a lot of fun!

I have been trying to expand myself more the last couple years. I’ve been in my current fandom for a LONG time, and I’ve written a lot of fairly typical romance-centric stories within it. That was starting to bore me. Funnily enough, my creative goal for 2020 was “be weirder”—but then…everything happened… and I could barely write at all, so the goal switched to ‘write whatever you can and whatever feels good.’ Then at some point I adjusted course to wanting to finish my WIPs and old projects, not specifically with an intent to settle my accounts before leaving the fandom but… just for the clarity of it. That goal aside, though, I am trying to push myself to write things I haven’t written before and to make more unusual and bolder choices.

I know that the total number of genres out there is way greater than the number of genres I’ve even dabbled in. But I think I’m pretty varied, again, as far as the styles/genres/plot-types that tend to be common in fandom spaces go.

(The way I answered this makes Day 79 impossible to answer, so I’ll just be skipping that one. Also if you haven’t noticed I’ve been skipping all the ‘homework’ questions. My to-do list is long enough already!)

*

Day 80: How do you feel about your old works? And bonus homework: say something nice about past-writer-you.

I feel pretty good about them! Roughly speaking, I’m generally proudest of my recent works, or at least my recent faves, and also proud of my older work, the stories I don’t feel much attachment to anymore. About those I can at least say ‘wow, this is really good for someone X age,’ and even sometimes ‘yeah, this is just really nice!’ without any qualifiers. The works that fall in between those two categories I am harsher on. By that I mean, those stories that were written long enough ago that I can see how I’ve improved, but not so long ago that I don’t feel attached to that person anymore, where I still feel responsible, as it were, for the errors or rough spots in them. I’m especially harsh on stories that USED to be my favorites, for whatever reason. Even then, I’m talking about being more nitpicky, not about despising the stories or wishing I hadn’t written them or wanting to take them down.

All of this is just the general pattern of my thoughts. I have specific works that I think are bad, or at least kind of embarrassing or silly, works I can’t personally stand to re-read. But it’s a question of scale. I’ve been posting online since 2006 and have over 200 works on AO3. About the ones I don’t personally like, I think, ‘well if someone else reads it and likes it, it’s worth the story existing and existing in public.’

Plus the super-SUPER embarrassing stuff, the late elementary/early middle school original novellas, the early fandom stuff, almost everything I wrote in high school even (I’m the class of ’07) is only on my computer and on various back up drives.

I guess the tl;dr of it is that I’m proud of my writing overall, even if my exact opinions about specific stories, fandom experiences, or eras might vary. I think I’ve always had some kinda talent! It’s good that I’ve changed and grown, and hopefully improved, but I still feel fondness for my early writing experiences.

*

A Writing Update

Since I haven’t done one of these in a while…

I’ve finished my Troped fic, which took over my brain for longer than intended, and done a first editing read-through. There’s one scene with some VERY rough bits that will need to be worked on more, and since some of my read-through was a bit… quick, because I just got excited to read ahead and didn’t think as critically as I should, I think I should do another full start-to-finish read. I don’t want to forecast too specifically when it might be up, which would just make it even LESS anonymous, but I can say pretty confidently that it WILL be eligible for the competition.

So I’m pretty excited for that. I’m not sure what I’ll turn to next. What I probably should do is switch to autumn mode—I have a pretty big list of stuff I want to write this fall, although so far I’m not inspired at all because it’s still way too hot! So I think my first task this weekend is going to be to figure out where my focus should turn next.

[welllpthisishappening]

A Few Days Off for Christmas, Part Two

In which Killian Jones isn’t as retired as he originally claimed to be, cute kids continue to be cute, and home ownership is pondered against the backdrop of the world’s most competitive air hockey tournament. 

Or: Christmas at the Vankald brownstone

----

Rating: f l u f f Word Count: 8.8 of all that aforementioned fluff AN: Hey, remember when I wrote a bunch of Christmas-themed Blue Line stores and then only posted one of them? Attempts to remedy that are currently being made, so we’ve got the Christmas after Killian retires and just before Chris is born, with almost too much fluff, peak!Vankald feelings, and Elsa accepting none of Killian’s nonsense. Plus kissing, I am who I am. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll. 

----

The door was going to fly off its hinges. 

One bump became two, evolving into several kicks before it turned into something astoundingly similar to a hip check and—“Oh my God,” Killian groaned, squeezing his eyes shut while also doing his best to melt into the mattress. Didn't work. 

He hadn’t really expected it to.  

“Your fault,” Emma mumbled, half into the pillow and partially into the mess of hair covering that same pillow. Her hair was everywhere. And she was smiling. Killian didn’t bother double checking 

Maybe smiled himself, actually. Despite whatever was happening on the other side of the door. None of the noises resembled an actual knock. Cracking open one eye, the ends of his mouth tilted up slowly and his hand moved before he even thought about it, reaching out to trace the curve of Emma’s stomach. 

Another noise. 

They were going to have to get out of bed eventually. 

Or the kids in the hallway would resort to drastic measures. 

“How’d you get to that conclusion, exactly?” Killian asked, twisting until he managed to lift his arm up in some unspoken attempt to get Emma closer to him. Getting out of bed could wait five minutes. Possibly six if they were feeling exceptionally greedy. 

It was Christmas Eve, after all. 

Something about the holiday, although that would also suggest the opposite of greed and probably something else about peace on Earth and goodwill amongst men, but the door was not going to stand up to much more of this and if Emma kept biting her lower lip like that Killian wasn’t sure he could be held accountable for his actions. Ten minutes more in bed, at least. 

“Your kid is checking the door, Cap,” Emma said, voice lacking any frustration, “how could this be anyone else’s fault?”

His heart jumped. 

Skipped a beat, and then defied several other biological rules, and none of that should surprise him anymore. Not when they were nearly six months removed from the third Stanley Cup, and the prospect of a full Jones line wasn’t all that intimidating. Even with the limited space in their apartment. They’d figure it out. Had to, really. And all of it was good. Perfect, honestly. Was nice in a way that deserved a far better adjective, because retirement hadn’t really stuck. 

Had rather quickly evolved, actually. Into director of player development for the New York Rangers, a job that came with a fancy office and polo shirts that made Emma’s eyes widen ever so slightly, although Killian wasn’t sure if he was supposed to notice that, and Matt came to practice with him. 

Regularly. 

That was now coming back to haunt Killian. 

And the structural integrity of his and Emma’s bedroom door. 

“Blame Scarlet,” Killian argued, “he’s ancient, so he’s got nothing better to do during practice than prove his worth to Matt. This is all his technique.” “Ah, well now I kind of feel like a jerk.” “No, no, he does not get your pity. The kid’s leading with his shoulder out there.” “Is that not how it’s supposed to work, then?” Making a noise in the back of his throat only served to hurt the back of Killian’s throat, Emma’s expression some sort of flashing neon sign that he was being effectively teased and—

She gasped. 

“Swan?” Far from parenting experts — and closer to apartment-hunting procrastinators than either one of them would like to admit — they had gone through this twice before, so Killian figured there was something to be said for confidence borne of experience, and he wasn’t really nervous at the hitch in Emma’s breath or the overall dexterity of her fingers when she yanked his hand forward. 

No noise on that kick, but it was definitely a kick and his heart must have evolved at some point. Beyond human emotion and into the stratosphere of family-based feelings and if Killian didn’t win the air hockey tournament, he was going to be very disappointed. 

Matt was yelling in the hallway now. 

“Took offense at the technique, I guess,” Emma laughed, “I think he’s trying to show off.” Killian exhaled. That was unexpected. He hadn’t realized he’d decided to hold his breath. Twelve extra minutes in bed, maybe. They were already late, might as well be very late. 

The door swung open. 

“Dad! Dad! Dad,” Matt yelled, leaping onto the edge of the bed and Emma barely moved her feet in time. Killian wasn’t so lucky. 

Groaning when an elbow somehow found its way into his calf, he squeezed his eyes shut again. “What did we talk about with the door, kid?” Killian asked, trying to shift his leg so Matt would realize he needed to move. 

No such luck. 

All he got was the dramatic sigh of a nine-year-old who appeared close to demanding Christmas-type attention, and Matt’s head hung over the side of the bed as several pillows fell on the floor. “I knocked—kind of.” Emma’s snicker was far too loud. 

Killian gaped at her, but that only got him a wider-than-usual smile, and several strands of hair that drifted dangerously close to her eyes when she propped herself up on her elbows. “Nuh uh, don’t look at me like that. It’s Christmas, and that’s my excuse for everything for at least the next seventy-two hours.” “So, the day after Christmas too?” “You heard me.” Killian’s grin threatened the muscles in his cheeks, nosing at the side of Emma’s cheek because he couldn’t get much closer with a kid draped over his stomach. Or while that kid was groaning quite so loud. 

“Gross, gross, gross,” Matt chanted, and the distinct lack of footsteps following him should have been their first clue. Killian was willing to blame Christmas for that too. 

And Will, just on principle. 

“Thanks for the commentary,” Emma grinned, “why were you checking the door?” “I wanted to talk to you guys.” “Did you just?”

“Yuh huh.” Killian’s eyes darted towards Emma’s. Not parenting experts, but at least passably observant and they really should have checked to see where Peggy was. “What about? And for future reference, checking is not the same as knocking. Who’s even teaching you to check like that because if it is actually Scarlet, then—” Matt shook his head. Ducking his gaze, the bedding was suddenly far more interesting than anything Killian could have asked, and Emma shrugged when he glanced up again. “Not Scarlet?” Another head shake. “What’s going on, kid ?” What felt like several hours passed, color rising in Matt’s cheeks — which wasn’t really fair, because watching his own reactions play out on his kid’s face seemed like some form of emotional torture for Killian, who was barely managing to temper his impatience. He rested his hand on Matt’s back. 

“At the Piers?” Killian pressed, only to get a noise that was far too familiar as well. Not quite an agreement, but not an argument either and he briefly wondered how the Vankalds ever dealt with him like this. He knew the answer before he asked—“Dylan, huh?” Shrugging couldn’t have been easy for Matt when Emma’s hand joined Killian’s on his back, but he made the effort all the same. It somehow ended with an elbow in Killian’s ribs. 

“I’s not a big deal,” Matt muttered. “I just—” “—Wanted to beat down our door?” Killian finished, fully prepared for the scowl he got and Emma’s inability to control the sound of her own reactions might have been one of his favorite things in the world. “He’s not going to be there. They went to visit Eric’s parents this year.”

At some point in the last nine years, it seemed the entire New York Rangers roster had collectively fallen into family mode, a decision that, while not entirely planned, left the lot of them with kids in the same age bracket. And Dylan Havfrue, at just eight months older than Matt, was ready-made for rivalry. Already impossibly tall for a nine-year-old, he was a penalty-minutes record waiting to happen and not nearly as fast as Matt. 

It wasn’t that Dylan and Matt didn’t get along. At least when they were off the ice. On the ice, they played the same position on the same team, competing for minutes and stats and, well, at the risk of losing any metaphorical Christmas points, Killian knew Matt was better. Than Dylan. 

And just about everyone else at Chelsea Piers. 

“Oh,” Matt said, head falling back onto Killian’s chest and for half a moment it felt like years before and they weren’t dealing with some kind of first-ever bully situation.

“You getting checked, kid? Is that what’s going on?”

Matt shrugged again, burrowing closer to Killian like that would somehow make the conversation end. It wouldn’t — but the footsteps finally racing down the hall might, and they’d probably have to reconsider that whole parent of the year thing when it was obvious one of their kids was hopped on pre-Christmas sugar. 

Of the stolen variety. 

“Do not jump on this bed, Margaret,” Emma warned, but the smile was back and her voice was soft and Peggy barely slowed enough to flop onto the comforter with a soft thump. 

Frosting lined the corners of her mouth. 

“Why are you guys here?” she asked. “We have to go! We have to go! Aunt Anna said I could—” Pausing to take a deep breath, her shoulders heaved. “I could use her camera this year, and Kris is going to help and—” “—How many cookies, Margaret Jones?” “No cookies!” Scrunching her nose, Emma hummed in disbelief as she leaned forward. To wipe away the frosting. “Next time make sure you get rid of the evidence, huh? How’d you even find the cookies? They’re supposed to be on a shelf.” “Don’t look at me,” Killian balked when Emma stared accusingly at him. “They’re up there. They’ve been up there since last night.” “MD and I got them while you and Dad were asleep,” Peggy explained, as if staging a daring cookie rescue on Christmas Eve was to be expected. 

“Mar!” Pushing his hand into Killian’s stomach when he sat up, Matt’s groan echoed around the room .”You weren’t supposed to tell!”

“I was stuck! You ran away and I had to—” “—Wait, what?” Emma interrupted sharply. Neither kid noticed. 

Killian resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

Fifteen extra minutes in bed. Ten of which should be used to talk about the Dylan thing, and proper checking technique, and then three minutes solely for kissing Emma. They’d use the other two minutes to get the kids out of the room. 

Like responsible adults, and successful parents. 

“You were taking too long,” Matt said, “and I wanted to talk to Dad and—” “—I had to jump off the counter!” “Alright, alright, alright,” Killian snapped, voice rising on every repeat and both kids sat up straighter. Emma tried to turn her laugh into a noise that didn’t sound like a laugh and it absolutely didn’t work. “No more cookies. No more plans for cookies. No more leaping off the counter, Margaret. Understood?”

“Hockey voice,” Peggy whispered. Or, at least, tried. She glanced meaningfully at Matt, who just widened his eyes in response, lips ticking down and it all felt so painfully familiar and painfully family that any frustration Killian felt disappeared all too quickly. 

“Hockey captain voice,” Emma corrected softly, pressing a kiss to Peggy’s temple and grinning at her conspiratorially. 

“Swan,” Killian sighed. 

She shrugged. “I kind of want a cookie now.” “We know where they are,” Peggy said, rushing over the words like they weren’t an admission and they hadn’t just been talking about the great Christmas Eve cookie theft. “Yeah, I picked up on that. C’mon, lead me to the cookies, Peg, and then we should pack.” “I packed!” “I’ve heard that before. Last year, we got downtown with three t-shirts and no pants. We’re not doing that again, so—let’s go, feet on the floor.”

Peggy grumbled, but she didn’t argue and Killian tried not to smile too widely. At the scene in front of him, or the memory of last Christmas — two shirts with his number on them and another with a Team USA logo on the front, and Locksley emblazoned across the back. It had made Roland blush. 

“We’ll save you guys some cookies,” Emma promised, following Peggy out the door and Killian waited until he heard the squeak of glass sliding across the counter before he looked at Matt. Who hadn’t so much as blinked yet. 

“You want to talk now?” Killian asked, Matt making an eerily similar noise to the one he’d let out a few minutes earlier. “How come you didn’t say anything about Dylan?” “Wasn’t really a big deal.” “Sure, sure, you’re not supposed to check much at the Piers.” “I’m not the one checking.” “Yeah,” Killian said, tugging on the front of Matt’s shirt. More team-branded merch. That might have been all Matt owned. “He been doing it for long? “Since the start of the season.” “You tell Hopper?” Matt shook his head. “How come you didn’t tell us before, kid? And how come you’re pushing your sister on kitchen counters to steal cookies that we’re supposed to bring downtown?” “I didn’t push Mar on the counter. She got up there on her own. And it was her idea.” Killian narrowed his eyes, filing that particular bit of information away for a day when they weren’t, once again, behind schedule or coping with on-ice issues of a nine-year-old rec league. 

Matt played in more than one league. 

“Not an answer.” “I know,” Matt sighed. “I just...it’s stupid. He’s stupid.” “It’s not stupid if he’s breaking the rules,” Killian countered, and Ariel was going to be upset. Disappointed, too. Which, as everyone knew, was fundamentally worse. “He can’t check you. You guys are way too young for that.” “You tell all the guys at practice that they don’t need to back down from hits!” Taking a deep breath was impossible when his lungs were busy disintegrating in his chest, but Killian figured it also might have had something to do with the kid still sitting on his legs and Matt didn’t object when he hooked his chin over his shoulder. “They’re getting paid to get hit. Not quite there yet, Mattie.”. “He’s really good at checking,” Matt grumbled. “Better than me. Even Uncle Will thinks so.” “Uncle Will’s opinion on this isn’t important. And he shouldn’t be teaching you how to check either. You’ll end up in the box and then you can’t score goals.” “I guess.” “Them’s the facts, kids.” Matt considered that, body shifting with the force of his sigh and distinct inability to argue. Forty-seven thousand parental points, at least. Killian grinned at him. “You tell us stuff from now on, ok? No matter how stupid you think it is. That’s the gig, for me and Mom.” “And you didn’t really check guys.” “Because I wanted to score goals. Not sit in the box for two minutes.” “Scoring goals is cool.” Killian nodded, trying to regain feeling in his legs. “You know, maybe we could go somewhere that isn’t the Piers sometime and you could take some shots. No checking, just —practice.” “Practice?” “On our own.” “With you?” His stomach joined the fray, that time. Flipping and flying directly into the middle of his throat, which didn’t do much to help his breathing. Worth it. For the look on Matt’s face, which was somewhere in the realm of of overjoyed and that was appropriate on Christmas Eve and—

“When? Could we go during the break? Today? While Rol and Henry are home? You think Uncle Liam will skate? Did they bring skates? I told Lizzie she should bring skates.”

Plans spilled out of Matt, hardly any defined syllables, more half-shouted demands and Killian felt the smile spread across his face quickly and easily and immediately. And if he’d never really considered a family in some kind of chaotic, cookie-stealing, perfect way, then he’d definitely never considered a son who wanted to practice his forehand at every available opportunity. 

“Relax,” Killian laughed, a flash of dark hair in the hall as it dashed towards another room and a suitcase that likely had four shirts in it. 

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

Matt nearly trampled Killian in his effort to jump off the bed, a cry that almost sounded like yeah several times over, and he barely stopped before he collided with Emma. And the three cookies in her hand.  

“What did you do, Swan?” 

“With the cookies or—” Wrapping her arm around Matt, she pulled him against her side and he was far too busy announcing roster spots to express any sense of displeasure. The cookie she gave him likely helped too. “Rubes and I might have planned...something.” “As in?” “As in rented out that rink uptown for the day after Christmas because there’s a million and two people coming to the brownstone this year, and we’re going to need something to do after we try to kill each other in air hockey.” “This is a very violent family, we’re always threatening to kill each other.” “Or check,” Matt muttered. 

Emma kissed the top of his head.That got a reaction. “It’s also kind of nice. At least the air hockey. And Uncle Liam will totally have skates, so you can wreck him during faceoffs, Mattie.” Whatever noise he made at that wasn’t so much a human sound, as it was something that made Killian’s ears ring. Which he planned to use as an excuse. For walking forward, crowding into Emma’s space and kissing her. 

In a crashing, not-quite violent, but decidedly emotional sort of way. 

She pushed up on her toes. 

“I love you.” “Weird,” Emma said, but she also hadn’t moved her mouth away from his and that helped lessen any sense of insult. 

Killian hummed, bending his neck again with every intention to keep making out in the middle of the bedroom, and it wasn't how he initially planned to use his extra minutes, since it did involve far too much standing, but there was also kissing and he hadn’t noticed Matt leave. Only that Peggy was back. In surround sound. “We have to go! There are presents at V’s. Presents! And you guys not being gross.”

Clicking her tongue, Emma managed to stay pressed against Killian, even as she zipped up the backpack hanging off Peggy’s shoulder. “Take at least three jerseys out of your bag, Matthew David,” she added on a shout. 

Killian kissed her forehead. 

“But, I—” Matt objected, twisted around his doorframe. Emma widened her eyes. Killian assumed. He didn’t look. He was too busy narrowing his eyes. “Fine, fine, but Mar’s got to bring some socks.”

“Hat might not be a bad idea, either,” Killian added. “What about shirts for under the jerseys?” Silence. Of the resounding variety. 

“Figures,” Emma scoffed, ushering Peggy back and they were only half an hour behind schedule by the time the lock clicked behind them. Better than usual, really. 

The hat, despite assurances that it’s in my bag, I promise never made it to the brownstone —  forgotten in the desperation to get downtown for presents and eggnog and the force that had become Mr. and Mrs. Vankald grandparents. 

Adopting Roland and Henry into the fold was as natural as anything, the Locksley family welcomed with open arms after that initial Christmas spent on the living room floor. Especially once Regina started baking. And Leo Nolan was in the midst of a Christmas obsession to rival any kid on the planet, certain Santa preferred the cookies left in front of Vankald fireplace above any other offerings.  

Liam and Elsa’s twins, far removed from their own obsessions over cookies for Santa, had stepped into key air hockey roles — refereeing and commentating — while Lizzie Vankald-Jones developed a trash-talking talent that left all of them just a bit stunned. 

There were, always, enough baked goods to feed several small countries and enough Chinese food to feed a large army, and enough laughter that it echoed in Killian’s head long after they went back uptown. There weren’t enough rooms for them. 

The kids all camped out in the living room. 

And the front door swung open before Killian could adjust the bags in his hands. 

“Why are you lurking by the door, Banana?” “Waiting for my money.” “Excuse me?” “My money,” she repeated, while failing to elaborate any more and this bit they seemed to do every year had gotten old half a dozen Christmases ago. 

“They bet on when we’d get here,” Emma explained. Killian tugged Peggy towards his side so he didn’t do something he’d regret. Matt was trying to work into the brownstone already, mumbling about cookies. “How much, Anna?”

“Fifty bucks, super serious business.” “Sounds it.” Anna shrugged, leaning against the open door frame like it wasn’t December and starting to snow and the telltale smell of cinnamon wafted out onto the block. “Bah humbug, also you guys have never been on time for anything ever. I’m playing to tradition. But I should thank you, because all this was Scarlet’s idea, and he vastly underestimated you.”

“How so?” Emma asked, ignoring Killian’s huff of frustration. 

Peggy giggled. 

“Thought you’d be late, but only by like twenty minutes and—” “Hey, Banana,” Killian interrupted, and Anna’s eyebrows flew up her forehead when she heard the tone of his voice. She stood up a bit straighter. “In case you also hadn’t noticed, we’ve got some kids out here and Emma’s pregnant, so, uh if you could get out of the way, that’d be fantastic.” Crossing her arms with a huff, it almost looked like Anna was about to stomp her foot as well, and Emma rested her hand on Killian’s chest before he could start arguing. “Did Gina and Reese’s start baking yet? Because I think Killian could use some pie.” “Yeah, I think so,” Anna agreed, making a face at Killian and he hadn’t let go of Peggy yet. She grinned at the kids in front of her, holding out her hands expectantly and tugging them both inside. “You guys want some hot chocolate?” Bags were immediately dropped, forgotten on the steps, as soon as the words were out of Anna’s mouth, leaving Emma and Killian alone with her hand still flat against his jacket. “Maybe you should start checking something,” she suggested. 

Killian sighed, but he couldn’t bring himself to hold onto any tension. He kissed the top of Emma’s head instead. Mrs. Vankald probably had extra hats. “Seasonally inappropriate.” “Proves my point, i think.” “Fifty bucks.” “Just means we’re the hottest ticket in town.” He widened his eyes at her, and almost-three kids later the smirk didn’t really accomplish anything except getting Emma to groan, but it had been a strange day and he probably should have expected her to kiss him in response. “Center ice,” Killian said, grinning against her mouth. 

“Not even clever.” “It’s a work in progress.” “Guess that means I’ll have to stick around. See how it all plays out.” “You think you’re very funny.” Shaking her head, Emma pulled away before they could start making out in a different location, which was probably for the best, but also a little disappointing and he didn’t realize the door was still open. 

“Hook,” Roland said, a note to his voice that made it clear it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get their attention. 

“God, don’t sneak up on us like that. How—Swan, stop that.” She didn’t. Hair brushed his cheek when she kept laughing, body shaking against Killian’s side and the flush of embarrassment on Roland’s face shouldn’t have felt like a victory. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know that Ruby won her bet.” “Jeez.” “What was that one, Rol?” Emma asked, twisting towards the teenager. “Also, can you take, at least, four of these bags before Killian has some kind of complete breakdown on the steps?” Roland chuckled, leaning forward to grab five bags in one hand. “Ruby bet David what you guys were doing on the steps and why Matt and Pegs ended up running into the kitchen without any parental supervision in sight. Their words, not mine.” “Jeez,” Killian repeated. “Where’s your dad and why isn’t he telling everyone to grow up?”

“He’s kind of busy.”

Nodding towards the foyer, Killian directed them inside as voices from several rooms made their way into the space and down the stairs that were, as always, covered in ivy and lights and the photos on the wall were different now. The draft night photo was still there, but there other ones too – Stanley Cup finals and second weddings and Roland in a red, white and blue uniform and, right in the middle, that very first Christmas when they’d all fallen asleep in the living room. 

That one hung in the apartment uptown too. 

“Was I right, Rol?” Ruby asked, walking into the foyer sporting a sweater that wasn’t just ugly, was somehow bordering on atrocious and covered in hockey pucks. 

“What are you wearing?” Emma countered. 

Ruby brushed her off, staring expectantly at Roland who shook his head. “I’m still on the kid side. I want no part of this.”

“Was the door still open?” “Ruby.”

She grinned — that slow, slightly intimidating look that had terrorized reporters for the better part of the last decade — and jumped towards Roland, slinging her arms around him and pressing a kiss against his cheek. “You’re a God-awful spy,” she said. “David and I should have taken your loyalty into account.” “Where is David?” Emma asked, glancing towards the living room. “Or Robin and Will, for that matter? Or Henry. He’s supposed to show me what he’s writing.” Rolling her eyes, Ruby leaned back against Roland’s side and he was still holding the bags. “You can put those down, mate,” Killian muttered, grinning when he dropped several tons of presents on the floor. 

“Oh, that’s why we had Rol out for surveillance,” Ruby answered. “All of those adults are sitting at the kitchen table with several different poster boards and, at least, one full cake, trying to bracket out this year’s air hockey competition.” Emma laughed immediately, but Killian wasn’t sure if it was because of the absurdity of the news or because of how he’d reacted to it. Gaping at Ruby, his eyes widened when he looked towards Roland for confirmation. Who shrugged. 

That’s probably where Matt got it from. 

“What the hell, Lucas?” Killian yelled. “They’re supposed to wait until we’re all here. There are rules!”

“This is not my fault,” Ruby argued, backing away from Killian like he’d lost his mind. Emma’s lips had all but disappeared behind her teeth. “This is your crazy, insanely competitive tradition. If you want to have a seat at the literal table, you guys should get here on time. And stop making out on the steps. But I will tell you that Liam has tried to get himself higher up the bracket at least six times. Robin’s the only voice of reason. You owe him, Cap.” “I’m obviously the top seed, I won last year, that’s how it works. That’s science.” “Is there science involved?” Emma asked, Roland dropping onto the bottom step with one arm wrapped around his waist while he threw his head back. Laughing. Loud enough to draw an audience. Matt slid across the wood floor — shoes forgotten somewhere between the foyer and the kitchen and back again — and Killian ducked down out of instinct, grabbing him around the waist and tugging him back up 

“Dad,” he yelled, tugging on Killian’s t-shirt like that would get him to move. “Dad, you’ve got to come to the kitchen. Uncle Liam and Uncle Will are trying to form….”

“Alliances,” David finished, slinging his arm around Emma’s shoulders as soon as he stepped into the foyer. He kissed the top of her hair, looking almost repentant. 

Killian wondered how many alliances he’d made so far. 

“Right, right, alliances,” Matt continued, “you have to come. You’re the top seed. You won last year and you have to be up top. We’ve got to go now, Dad!”

Matt twisted, a mix of energy and excitement and Christmas coming to a boiling point that demanded acknowledgement. He got it from Roland. As per usual.  “C’mon, Matt. Let’s go challenge Henry to...something.” Lifting his suddenly-empty hands, Killian wasn’t sure what to say to any of that, only aware of how abrasive Ruby’s cackle was. “At the risk of repeating myself, Cap, this is your weird, competitive thing. Although Liam really is trying to cheat, so you know, go in there and be morally upstanding, or whatever.”

“Isn’t that David’s schtick? Maybe El.” David clicked his tongue. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that, or not.” “Nah, that was totally a compliment. Although you were making bets.”

“Oh, what the hell Ruby?” David groaned. “You weren’t supposed to ask them! Rol was supposed to look.” “Yeah, well, we forgot that Roland Locksley thinks Killian is some kind of hero. He wasn’t going to rat no matter what he saw.” “For the record,” David said, “I said you guys weren’t making out on the front steps with the door wide open, so, you know, take that into account. Although Elsa is probably the most moral.” “Not Reese’s?” Emma asked. She took a step back to Killian, sliding underneath his arm like there was a magnet in his side. “I mean, if we’re going to stage moral high ground competition, she’s got to be near the top.” “Is this conversation weird?” Ruby asked, sitting on one of the bags in the middle of the floor despite protests from Emma and Killian. “This conversation seems weird. Especially when Cap’s going to get screwed out of his top seed and anything Mary Margaret bakes is going to get devoured by the ridiculous number of kids in this house.”

As if on cue, a crash echoed from the general vicinity of the dining room and Mrs. Vankald shouted from the second floor, voice carrying as well as it had thirty years before. She leaned over the edge of the bannister, eyes falling on Killian’s immediately and he waved — like he was ten years old and just coming back from practice. 

“Tell Liam he can’t cheat this year,” she shouted. 

“I think you’re picking favorites, Mrs. V.” “I bought three things of creamer this year and Liam’s determination to circumvent the bracket rules means they’ve already been through one. I’m picking the Jones brother who isn’t going to ransack my refrigerator and well-organized food options.”

Killian scoffed, but Mrs. Vankald just tilted her head, staring at him with a fondness that, maybe, left him blushing in the middle of the foyer in front of pictures of his entire family. “We bought a new container of cinnamon for you, Emma,” she added. “If Liam’s even looked at that, I give you full permission to kick him out of the tournament.” “Wow,” Emma breathed. Ruby made a face, mouth tilted down as if kicking Liam out of an air hockey tournament was the worst insult a person could level against another human being. “I’ve never really felt this powerful.” “I trust you. You’ll use your power for good.”

“Maybe Mrs. V is the most moral,” Ruby suggested, but Killian shook his head quickly. 

“Nuh uh,” he objected. “She’s pulling all the strings up there. Who do you think demanded the referee last year?”

“Go claim your number one seed, Killian,” Mrs. Vankald said. She paused for a moment, pressing her lips together tightly and the air in the foyer seemed to shift noticeably, something important about to happen or, maybe, already happening and Emma shuffled closer. “And...uh, come talk to me before dinner.” “A little foreboding, I’ll be honest.”

“Fill out the bracket first.”

Saluting was another child-esque response, but Killian was almost positive he was getting shorter the longer he stood there and something crashed in the kitchen. Mrs. Vanaklad rolled her eyes. 

The crash, it turned out, was a makeshift hockey puck smacking into the baseboard of the dining room, leaving a sizable dent in its wake as the twins argued with Henry over what constituted as the blue line when there was a table and a dozen chairs in the way. 

And Killian wasn’t sure which took longer – figuring out those rules or keeping Peggy from climbing on top of the dining room table in an attempt to keep the game organized or attempting to figure out an air hockey bracket. 

It was definitely the bracket. 

“You can’t do this again, Liam,” Will sighed, perched on the edge of the counter. “I’m actually going to go insane if you do this again.” Liam muttered a string of curses under his breath and Killian’s head fell forward, colliding with Emma’s back. She was balanced on his leg, his arm around her waist and her fingers trailing over his hand, tracing over scars and up towards his wedding ring. It was almost enough to make him relax. Until Liam started complaining about seeding again and the whole process had to start over. 

“Why don’t we keep better records?” Robin asked, not for the first time. They were clearly stuck in a time warp. Of Christmas competition and a dwindling coffee creamer supply. “Can’t El do that? Isn’t that, like, her job?” “Do you know what a state senator does, Locksley?” Elsa asked. She’d collapsed onto Liam’s chair when he started pacing two brackets ago, resting her chin on the top of her pulled-up legs. 

“I’m assuming your tone that I don’t.”

“Ding ding ding.” “The problem,” Liam started,  and Killian didn’t even try to mask his groan. He knew where this was going. The same place it had been going for the last two hours. Absolutely nowhere. “Is that we…” “Have an uneven bracket,” the kitchen finished, and Liam paced louder. Somehow. 

“We just have to figure out who’s going to play-in.” “Liam if you say that one more time, I’m going to strangle you with tinsel,” Killian threatened. 

“That is oddly specific.” “Christmas spirit.” “That’s another Scrooge reference,” Emma shouted, twisting to knock her knuckles against his shoulder and Killian bit his lip tightly so he didn’t actually make any noise. They shouldn’t have kept flirting in the kitchen. While Liam freaked out about traditions and tinsel. “How come we didn’t bet on how many times you’d make Scrooge references?” “Because we’re adults, Swan,” Killian answered. 

Elsa scoffed. 

“Ok, if I offer myself up for a play-in game, would that help?” Robin asked, dragging the poster across the table and writing in his name before Liam could object. 

“Locksley’s going all dad mode,” Will muttered. “Put Mary Margaret in there too. She said she’d play-in to help because she’s a better person than all of us.” The kitchen hummed in agreement, and Robin finished half the bracket by the time Liam stopped pacing. Forty-five minutes, and only three more arguments later, the entire thing was full of mismatched handwriting in several different Sharpie colors. 

Liam taped it to the basement door. 

“You know,” Emma drawled, somehow still sitting on Killian’s leg, “I’m coming for your title.”

“That so? Care to place a wager on that?”

“I thought we were going to be grown up.” “I mean, no one has to know except us. Save face when you lose that way.” “Just diving right into the trash talk, huh?” “You’re the one who started it, love. The real question is…” “Oh my God,” she groaned, but her eyes were bright and he’d probably think about her smile for a questionable amount of time. “If you say, whether or not you’ll finish it, I’m going to punch you in the face.” Laughter flew out of him, any sense of competition forgotten in the rather desperate desire to make out with his wife again. “Maybe you should be teaching checking techniques.” Emma sneered, nails digging into Killian’s shoulder as she tried to stay balanced. On top of him. “Give me some credit, love. I’m not going to let you fall.”

Cliches and vaguely romantic double entendres were acceptable on Christmas Eve. Especially if it guaranteed that particular angle, Emma’s head tilted up and her teeth digging into her lower lip, and he couldn’t think when she did that. 

So. 

Kissing it was. Anything else was overrated. 

Although it did make it difficult to hear the pointed cough from the other side of the kitchen. 

Mr. Vankald rocked back on his heels when Killian finally looked up, amusement coloring his gaze even as the blush on Emma’s cheeks emitted a very specific kind of heat. “Super grown up,” she mumbled. 

“Be glad it wasn’t your brother,” Mr. Vankald reasoned. “Probably steal your number one seed.” “He hung the bracket up,” Killian argued. “That’s Christmas doctrine now. No more changes or the entire house will rise up in revolt.”

“Might keep things interesting.” “There’s a giant dent in the dining room wall and you’re still looking for interesting?” “Depends on how the next few minutes go. C’mon.” 

He walked away before either Killian or Emma could answer, leaving them sitting on one chair with matching looks of confusion on their face. “So, uh, we’re supposed to follow him, I guess?” Emma asked. 

Killian shook his head. “This has been the weirdest day.” “God bless us, every one.” “Something like that, for sure. Let’s go before someone else comes in.”

Mr. Vankald hadn’t waited for them – retreating to the dining room and the, now, multiple dents on the baseboards. Killian barely noticed them. He was more interested in the stack of papers sitting on the edge of the table, just a few inches away from the pile of plates and the almost questionable number of forks.

And whatever it was Mrs. Vankald was doing with her face. 

Like she was half a moment away from a waterfall of tears. If that was possible. It really had been a weird Christmas Eve. 

“What’s going on?” Killian asked cautiously, hooking his foot around one of the empty chairs and nudging Emma towards it. 

“Overprotective weirdo,” she mumbled. He grinned at her. 

“Mrs. V,” Killian continued, trying very hard not to tug on the back of his hair or grip Emma’s shoulder too tightly. “You want to expand on the mandate from before?”

She tilted her head in response, eyebrows lifted slightly and he wasn’t quite prepared for the force of her smile. 

Like he was seventeen and deciding to go to Minnesota. He told them he was going in the dining room. Or like he was seventeen and they’d found out he and Anna had snuck uptown on the one the weekend before. 

“Sit,” Mr. Vankald instructed, pointing at another chair next to Emma and they must have rented chairs. There were too many people in this family. “We’ve got approximately five minutes before Roland announces he’s hungry again.” “Is that the reason for the cloak and dagger?” “There’s neither cloak nor dagger,” Mrs. Vankald chastised, smile shaking ever so slightly when the tears finally fell to her cheeks. “Suggests this is bad.” “I feel like I’m about to get grounded.” 

“Did you get grounded a lot?” Emma asked, glancing over her shoulder and it absolutely would have been wrong to kiss her again. Although maybe Mrs. Vankald would stop crying then. 

Killian shook his head, smirk settling into place with practiced ease, and Emma rolled her eyes. She grabbed his hand. He’d appreciate that eventually. 

“Not grounded,” Mr. Vankald said suddenly and Killian snapped his head up. “We’re giving you the house.” Jaw dropping and shoulders sagging, Killian hadn’t really been holding his breath then either, but it had been a very weird day and his lungs were no longer functioning. Emma’s head moved on a swivel, eyes like saucers as she squeezed his fingers. His knuckles cracked. 

“Wait, what?”

“The house,” Mr. Vankald repeated, grinning and waving his hand through the air. 

“I don’t understand.” “What isn’t there to understand?” “Any of it?” Leaning forward, Mrs. Vankald pushed the pile of papers towards Killian’s free hand and he couldn’t actually make out the words on the page. His vision had gone glossy. 

And maybe he squeezed Emma’s hand that time. 

“But….” Emma started, licking her lips. “Why...we have an apartment.” Neither one of the Vankalds looked impressed. “And how many rooms does that apartment have?” Mr. Vankald challenged. “Also, we’re leaving.” Killian was glad he was sitting because his legs felt like he’d just skated sprints for the last several days. “What?” 

“Leaving. In a couple of months.” “I am….wait,” Killian sputtered, blinking again and staring at the doorway like a camera crew was going to appear and announce that this was all some practical joke. Or Liam was doing it to get in his head before air hockey. That would have made more sense. “You’re moving? From New York?” “Oh, no, no,” Mrs. Vankald said, “we couldn’t...not when you are…” “Super grandparents,” Emma finished, and Mrs. Vankald beamed. 

“Ok,” Killian said, trying to process everything that had happened since they’d walked into the brownstone. Maybe the kids would let him play hockey after dinner. He wanted to shoot at something. “So, let me get this straight. You’re moving out of the brownstone, but staying in New York and you’ve already decided this is all just going to be ours?” Mr. Vankald nodded, humming in the back of his throat. “See. Wasn't confusing, was it?” “You’re making jokes.” “Killian,” Emma whispered, staring at the papers in her hand. “It’s already done. This is...I mean I’m not a lawyer or a real estate agent or anything, but this is notarized.” She looked up at the Vankalds, eyes as glossy as his and Killian wished, not for the first time, that they could have these major life conversations on ice. He’d be able to keep his balance better that way. “When?” 

“When did we decide?” Emma nodded. “As soon as you brought Matthew home,” Mr. Vankald admitted. Killian wasn’t breathing. “And then when you told us you were expecting Christopher and Killian had retired, and it made sense. This is...we want you to have this.”

Mr. Vankald’s smile softened — like gifting the house Killian had grown up in wasn’t some kind of overwhelming type of decision. And on C hristmas Eve, no less. Killian tried to swallow down the bundle of nerves and emotion in the back of his throat, leaning towards Emma before he realized he’d shifted in his chair. She kept moving her fingers, alternating between squeezing his hand and swiping her thumb across the back of his palm, and her eyes hadn’t moved away from the deed sitting in front of them. 

“You’re sure?” Killian asked, voice scratchy and maybe he wasn’t seventeen and going to Minnesota. Maybe he was eight years old and terrified that the Vankalds were going to kick him out of the house. 

Neither one of them answered immediately, but then the floorboards creaked and Mrs. Vankald was next to him, one hand on his cheek and the other on his chest and she stared at him like he was hers in some kind of overwhelmingly emotional way. “There should be kids here and chaos and horsemen,” she whispered. “There should be yelling all the time and even more holes in the wall and maybe Mattie can learn how to properly check someone."

"See, scathing."

Mrs. Vankald scrunched her nose. "You should have that. Both of you. This is your home.”

Emma sniffled, lip between her teeth and head resting on Killian’s shoulder. “The Jones Line,” she muttered. “That’s what we’ve been calling it. You know with three of them.” “That’s perfect.” 

They put another hole in the dining room wall that night — Leo tripping over a hockey stick that somehow ended up propped against the table, and there had been crying and questions about concussions and no one knew how to administer medical assistance when Ariel wasn’t there. Which didn’t make much sense because she wasn’t actually a doctor. 

In the end, Leo opted to eat another egg roll. 

And then scored a goal when the quasi-hockey game resumed. Spread across several rooms and inching dangerously close to the Christmas tree, the game had taken on a life of its own, and Matt and Lizzie eventually had to be separated when they started arguing over the location of the penalty box. 

Mrs. Vankald handed out t-shirts when the game was called a draw, silencing the cries of half a dozen kids as soon as they were gifted brand-new team merch with their names on the back. Matt and Peggy each had a ‘C’ on their shoulder. 

“They tell you?” Elsa asked, knocking her hip against Killian’s where he was leaning against the wall. He nearly jumped a foot in the air. “Jeez, KJ, relax. This isn’t an interview.” “I am retired. I don’t do interviews anymore,.” 

“Please. You’re as retired as….something that makes sense.” “Coming up a little short of cliches, huh?” “I wasn’t looking for a cliche, just an example. Whatever, you’re deflecting. Did they tell you yet? Mom and Dad?” “How did you know?” “KJ.” Killian groaned, glancing back towards Emma. She was sitting on the corner of the couch, Matt in front of her and already tugging on his t-shirt, with Peggy’s head in her lap, eyelids fluttering and feet tucked underneath her. “Yeah,” he said, not sure why it felt like admitting to something. “Called us into the dining room like they wanted to discuss the end of the world and then just…” “Gave you the house.” “Yeah.” “Good.” He hadn’t been expecting that — and that might have been why he couldn't quite shake the nerves or the twist in his gut and why his eyes kept darting towards Emma and their kids, like he was trying to make sure this wasn’t some ridiculous dream he’d come up with a decade before. 

“Good?” Killian asked, and Elsa nodded. 

“Do you not think it is?” “Look who’s deflecting now.”

“No, I’m confused. You guys have to move again anyway. Might as well move here. Put some more holes in the wall.” “That is exactly what Mrs. V said.” “God,” Elsa sighed. “Don’t tell me that. It makes me feel old.” Killian grinned, slinging his arm over her shoulders and Emma met his gaze across the living room —  probably wondering why he kept staring at her like a lunatic. “Oh,” Elsa sighed, rapping her knuckles across the front of his shirt. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” “Merry Christmas.” “Does Emma know she’s married to a total idiot?” “Probably, at this point.” 

Elsa scoffed and the knuckles had taken a decidedly more aggressive approach. “I’m serious, KJ. How come you don’t think you should have the house?” “Get out of my head, witch.” “First of all, that’s rude. Second of all, you’ve been brooding and un-Christmas’y all night. Liam asked me what was wrong with you. He thought it had something to do with the bracket.” “He needs to stop with the bracket stuff,” Killian said, but Elsa narrowed her eyes and it felt exactly like being disciplined by Mrs. Vankald. He didn’t mention that. 

“Third of all,” she continued, “It’s not like we’d take it. All things considered.” “What are the things we’re considering?” Gritting her teeth, Elsa sighed with all the drama of someone who’d been keeping something secret for several months. “You have to promise not to react because I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet.” “Ok.” “The national seat is up for reelection next year.” 

Killian waited for the rest of it, the explanation that would, eventually, hit and when it, finally, did, he felt like he’d been checked over the boards. “Oh, shit,” he yelled, drawing the attention of the entire living room and several reproachful clicked tongues. Emma’s laugh still didn’t sound much like a cough. “Elsa Vankald-Jones takes on the world.” “At least Washington D.C.” “To start.” “You can’t vote, so your support doesn’t count, but I appreciate it,” Elsa smiled. “And this is yours, KJ. Has been forever. This city and this house and you should be here. Your kids should be here. Stop thinking otherwise.” Killian hummed, resting his chin on top of Elsa’s head until she cursed. Not in English She also didn’t move. And maybe that look Mrs. Vankald had given him before — that promise that this whole roster of a family that didn’t share a last name or much more than a ridiculous desire to make each other happy — was real. 

God bless us, every one. 

Or something. 

The kids fell asleep wearing matching t-shirts with the Christmas tree still on, and it only took a few minutes and several glasses of spiked eggnog to get the presents downstairs. 

And Emma was already in bed when he got to his room, pillows kicked on the floor.

“Are the stockings all hung?”  

“At least laid by the chimney with a relative amount of care.” Her eyebrows moved, lips twitching slightly and Killian tried to keep his hand out of his hair. It didn’t work. Appeared to be a trend that day. “You know, it’d be easier to get to the Piers from here,” she said. “More space. You really could teach Mattie how to check.” “I thought we weren’t encouraging the checking.” “Ah, yeah, but then he totally dominated whatever game they were playing and maybe he should have several thousand square feet to fine-tune that. Plus, you know, Ruby mentioned something.” Killian dropped onto the edge of the bed —  knocking off a few more pillows in the process – and Emma scrunched her nose. “Between you, El and the Vankalds, I feel like I’m on the wrong end of all the secrets.” “More like late-breaking news.” “Enlighten me.” “Ariel texted Ruby about whatever Dylan is doing with Mattie and she’s super upset and she thinks you’re going to be pissed after the break because she’s not monitoring her nine-year-old enforcer on skates.”

“I’m not pissed,” Killian promised, ignoring Emma’s immediate scoff. “I’m not, Swan. I just…” “Killian Jones, defender of his kids.” “Exactly that.” “Ruby was mad enough for everyone involved anyway, even Mattie, and I think he was just upset that he couldn’t score twenty times a game when he was worried about getting hit.” “At this point I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he did score twenty goals a game,” Killian muttered. Maybe he’d had more than one glass of spiked eggnog. 

“It’s because he’s trying to be you.”

Twisting wasn’t easy when he was laying on his back — or when Emma’s fingers were in his hair, but he was nothing if not stubborn and there was another joke about magnets to be made. When his hand rested on her stomach again. 

Emma smiled at him. 

“Don’t talk to me about whatever sentiment that entails. I’m super pregnant and it’s Christmas and we’ve been given several thousand square feet of house.” “Super pregnant, huh?” Emma waved her hand, pointing at her stomach and Killian flipped over – head somehow finding its way onto he legs. She didn’t stop moving her fingers through his hair. “At least now we know where Peggy gets it,” she added softly, tapping her thumb on his temple. 

“Are you suggesting she’s inherited an innate desire to have her hair played with?” “Are you?” “Possibly,” Killian admitted, reaching up to tug Emma’s hand back down. He wrapped his fingers around hers, glancing up to make sure she was still smiling before pressing a kiss underneath her wedding ring. “What do you think, Swan?” “About?” “Several thousand feet of check’able living space.” “Overwhelmed, a little,” she admitted, “but not in the way you’re thinking.” “How am I thinking of it, exactly?” “You know Scarlet asked if, and I’m quoting here, Cap is doing that thing with his face because he’s mad about having to face Mary Margaret in the first round of the tournament.” “Jeez,” Killian groaned, hand moving towards her stomach out of instinct. He was met, immediately, with a kick. “Hey, kid,” he mumbled, smiling despite the nerves and the worry and there was a lot of square footage. Room for a whole Jones Line. 

“He’s been doing somersaults all night.” “You think that’s a sign?” “About being able to do somersaults in all the space of a downtown brownstone?” Emma laughed, and Killian’s eyes darted back up towards hers. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, but she didn’t look as worried about the ridiculous amount of family gifting they’d been on the receiving end that afternoon. “Kind of,” she said. “And you already said we.” “That’s true. You didn’t answer my question though.” “I’m not worried about some Vankald family overload or even what happens next Christmas when we inevitably have to order the Chinese food. I am…” 

She trailed off and the sigh was more of an exhale, eyes falling on the pile of pillows and the edge of the bed and it felt symmetrical to be back in that room — where it had started and sustained a desperate middle and watched Emma Swan tell Killian Jones she loved him for the very first time on Christmas Eve. 

“You are…” Killian prompted, grinning when Emma glared. 

“It’s not something I ever thought I could have,” she said quickly, stumbling over the words and refusing to meet his gaze and it was like he’d been pulled into the mattress or maybe through the floor and Killian sat up before his mind had processed the idea of moving. “A house and a hockey line and you...trying to make out all over the place.” Killian barked out a laugh, leaning forward and kissing her — again. His lips slanted over hers, one hand pressed into her hair as he tried to tug her towards him or touch every single inch of her and he could live for the rest of time without ever quite getting over how much he loved Emma Swan right back. 

On Christmas Eve, or any other day. 

“That’s because I;m super attracted to you,” Killian said, and it was the most honest string of words he’d come up with all day. “It’s a struggle not to make out with you all the time.” “Mattie would never forgive us.” “He’d cope.” “I love you a ridiculous amount you giant, vaguely attractive weirdo.” “Vaguely attractive? You wound me, Swan.” “Ah, well, I will admit that becoming a homeowner adds to your overall attractiveness.”

Kissing her again was the only reasonable response —  brushing his lips across her face and down her neck and over her shoulder and she probably would have actually punched him if he tried to kiss her stomach, but he was on some other level of overjoyed and Killian was willing to live on the edge, as it were. 

“El told me I deserve this,” Killian muttered, pressing the words against Emma’s t-shirt. “But at the risk of being a sentimental asshole, I think you do too, love.” “Team Jones,” Emma whispered, tugging on the collar of his t-shirt so he moved back up, falling asleep wrapped up together. 

Until several kids tried to check the door the next morning. 

[rainbowshawn]

Yours

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I couldn’t even tell you how many times I’ve re-written this one. It’s a long one though so hopefully that makes up for it!! Anyways I’m a sucker for Jealous!Shawn fics so naturally I had to write my own. 

Summary: Shawn is determined to remind you who you belong to after an old friend crosses the line.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, language, jealousy, and absolute filth. (Dom!Shawn)

Word count: 7.6k

“Shawn, stop it”

You spot him rolling his eyes behind you in the mirror you were currently using to finish up your makeup. A smirk formed on his face as he watched you applying your highlighter.

“I didn’t do anything,”

“Uh-huh,” you drag, squinting your eyes at him.

A few of your old friends were in town and they had invited you to one of the new clubs in the city. It was an upscale venue and you had been absolutely dying to find an excuse to go. It also didn’t hurt that you had a dress collecting dust in your closet that was screaming to be worn. That little black dress had Shawn wrapped right around your finger and you knew it.

“Uh huuuh, that’s why you’ve been eye-fucking me back there for the past fifteen minutes,” you smirked coyly. He shifts from his spot on the bed and slowly makes his way over to you, his gaze growing more intense by the second.

“It’s not my fault you look this sexy, kitten,” he purrs, leaning down to graze your warm neck with his lips. “I think you’re trying to drive me crazy.”

You hum as you feel his lips pressing against your neck; your focus no longer on finishing your makeup. You roll your head back loving the feeling of his lips on your skin and his warm hands trailing up your stomach, getting dangerously close to your breasts. You reluctantly sit back up, shrugging off his affection in favor of getting back to your makeup.

“Don’t distract me, hornball,” you giggle, picking one of your brushes back up.

He sighs, sitting back on the bed as he licks his lips. You choose to ignore his boyish antics as you finish up your dark eyeshadow. He was already dressed and ready to go, only waiting on you so you two could head to the club.

“Who’s all gonna be there?” he inquires.

“Mmm, I think Kira, Lexi, Emmy, and Matt,” you say slowly, trying to apply your nude lipstick at the same time.

Shawn tenses at the mention of the last name. Matt was an old friend, nothing more, but he knows from stories you had told him that Matt used to have a crush on you. You had always insisted that it was nothing, just some stupid high school crush, and Shawn believes you. He really does. But he can’t stop his mind from going into defense mode, suddenly anxious about you being around someone who had wanted you for so long.

He knows it’s wrong and he trusts you. One-hundred percent. So he swallows the feeling and scolds himself internally for feeling this way. 

You eye yourself in the mirror, unaware of Shawn being lost in his thoughts behind you. Your skin is glowing and your eyeshadow makes your eye stand out than it already does. You snatch up your phone that was faintly playing music and snap a few selfies in the mirror. You had to admit it; this look had you feeling super confident. Your makeup came out just right and you took the opportunity to get some cute photos out of it.

“Hey, Bubba,” your voice snapped him out of his trance, “c’mere.”

His head snaps up and he blinks quickly, getting out of his head. You’re looking at him in the mirror, your phone still held up in your hand and he catches onto what you want. He smiles as he comes over to your vanity, crouching down to be level with you as you wrap your arm around his neck.

Your faces squish together and he can’t help the blush that appears on his face as you take a few photos. He smirks as you push your lips out in a flirty pose. He chuckles as he shifts to press a kiss to your cheek as you snap more photos.

“Mmm, my pretty girl,” he says lowly, his tone sounding deeper than normal.

You shivered as you looked back through the photos, smiling as you take a liking to the one of him kissing your face.

“We look so cute,” you smile, posting the photo on your story.

“Don’t we always?”

—

The bustle of the party was a bit disorienting when you first arrived. Shawn has his arm around wrapped protectively your waist as you take in the modern club. People brush by quickly as the music pumps through the busy room. You take a moment to scan the busy area for your friends until you stumble upon a familiar face.

“Matt!”

You smile as you see the tall blonde take notice of your presence. He makes his way over to you in large strides, instantly grabbing you up into a strong hug, your laugh filling the crowded air.

“Y/N! God, it’s been yeeears!”

“I know! How have you been?” you say, beaming at him. His arms stay wrapped around you as you two speak. You’re so taken aback at your reunion that you don’t take any notice but Shawn sure does. His jaw clenches as he watches the exchange.

You go back and forth with Matt, catching up with each other briefly before Shawn clears his throat. Your attention shifts and you quickly separate from your old friend, laughing when you realize you never introduced the boys.

“Oh, duh, Matt, this is my boyfriend Shawn” you glance over at Shawn, grabbing onto his arm to introduce them.

“Nice to meet you man,” Shawn says, extending his hand out to Matt. He notices Matt’s eyes scaling your body before he snaps out of it and shakes his hand. Shawn makes sure to grip his hand extra hard, sending him a quiet signal of dominance.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” Matt mumbles out, still a bit distracted by your figure in your tight dress.

You remain oblivious to the exchange, smiling up at Shawn.

Some time passes and you end up in one of the large mahogany booths in the club with the group. Kira and Lexi were busy scanning the room for cute guys, hoping Toronto would be a jackpot for them. Emmy was talking to you about her trip to Iceland with her new executive boyfriend. You listen and chuckle. Still as pretentious as ever.

You’re seated between Shawn and Lexi, Matt, Kira, and Emmy directly across from you. The conversation shifts and the group starts talking about old times. You giggle at Emmy’s story of Lexi getting blackout drunk at a party you had all went to years ago, where she puked all over the guy she was trying to hook up with.

“Y/N, you remember when we used to skip school and go out to that creek? I’ll never forget when you slipped on the rocks and busted your ass,” Matt laughs out, “I had to carry you outta there and then somehow explain to your mom what we were doing down there.”

Shawn’s brows furrow as he wonders what you two were busy doing. He feels guilty for feeling uneasy about Matt. He’s never been the jealous type but he can’t seem to get past the looks he’s seen Matt giving you all night. He’s not stupid. He shifts in his seat and guides his hand onto your thigh, holding onto it protectively.

“How could I forget?” you laugh, hiding your face in your hands.

“I can’t count how many times I’ve had to take care of your clumsy ass,” he chuckles.

You quickly down the rest of your drink and interject before you can be further embarrassed in front of Shawn.

“On that note,” you interrupt, shooting matt a teasing glare, “Why are we just sitting here, guys? Let's go dance!”

You tug Shawn up, walking backward as you pull him towards the dance floor. You beam up at him, giggling as he takes in your figure, smiling at you. He knows he’s in for a long night.

You embrace the loud music and low lights as you feel the alcohol start to hit you. You dance to the top 10 hits blaring through the speakers, laughing the whole time. Shawn just watches you, a smile plastered on his face as he observes your drunken antics.

“You’re adorable,” he giggles at your dancing.

“Mmmm I know,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, “Now let loose a little, loverboy. Show me those moves.”

—

Shawn had just reluctantly left you to grab some more drinks at the bar. After a while of being apart from the group, you see Matt making his way back over to you through the packed crowd. He stumbles along to the loud beat pumping through the club and you cock your head, observing him. His eyes rake over you and you suddenly notice the look hungry look on his face. Once he reaches you, his hand settles onto your lower back and he pulls you into him as he speaks over the obnoxiously loud pop song.

“Can I get you a drink?” he shouts, “My treat.”

You notice his eyes mentally undressing you and you giggle, unsure of how to respond.

“I think I’m okay,” you say, wiggling in his tight grasp as he grinds into you, dancing to the song. Shawn sees the exchange from the bar and immediately starts walking back to you with jealousy pumping through his veins.

“Matt, seriously stop, you’re being weird,” you half chuckle, still confused by the situation. Matt just shushes you and moves his hands towards your hips.

Shawn immediately steps over towards you, hand snaking around your waist and brushing Matt’s hands off of your body.

“She’s good, man,” Shawn blurts out; his tone a bit stronger than normal. “Hands off.”

Your timid eyes shift over to him, noticing his jaw clenching. His cheekbones looked extra defined and his jawline somehow seemed sharper than usual. You bit your lip at his dominant demeanor, suddenly distracted from the tense situation playing out in front of you.

“Woah, man,” Matt defends, “I think I was talking to the Y/N, not you.”

Shawn’s arm grips your waist tighter, and you feel him stand up straighter next to you. You hear the slur of Matt’s words and piece together that he’s beyond drunk. He had never been a big drinker and you had only seen him drunk a handful of times in high school. You were surprised at his bold advances towards you.

“Don’t think it matters,” Shawn spits, standing up straighter and towering over the blonde. He shifts to step towards Matt, moving your body behind his, “That’s my girl.”

“Guys,” you move to press your palm into Shawn’s chest and step between them, hoping to deescalate the situation. You shoot matt a glare as you see him open his mouth back up to reply. “Knock it off.”

“Whatever, man,” Matt scoffs and backs up, rolling his eyes as he disappears back into the crowd.

“What the fuck?”

“He’s been practically eye-fucking you all night!” Shawn defends himself.

“Shawn,” you trail, placing your hands on the sides of his face. He turns his head to the side, avoiding your gaze.

You squint your eyes before laughing teasingly, “You’re so jealous.”

“Am not,” he grumbles.

You turn his face, making him look at you as you squint up at him.

“Whatever you say,” you trail. “But really. He’s just drunk. He’s just my friend.”

His arms wrap around your waist and pull you to his warm body. He presses his hips into your stomach and you have to hold back a groan as you feel him grind against you.

“I don’t care,” He cranes his head down to murmur into your ear, “You’re mine.”

You groan lightly at his words; the sound lost amongst the bustle of the loud room. His lips are suddenly pressed against your neck and he nips at the skin teasingly. His hands are settled on your hips and you feel his grip tighten as he pulls you closer.

His lips trail up from your shoulder to your ear where he whispers darkly,

“How about we get out of here, kitten? Need you. Want you to myself. That dress is driving me fucking crazy,”

—

The ride back to the apartment felt like an eternity as you wound through the busy streets of Toronto. You and Shawn were in the back of an uber, trying your best not to pounce on each other. The tension was tangible as his hand rested on your thigh; his fingers drawing light circles on your sensitive skin. You bit your lip and looked out the window trying to distract yourself from his teasing.

You roll your head and look at Shawn through your heavy lids. A small smile plays at your lips as you eye the beautiful man next to you. His features are relatively lost amongst the dark environment of the car, but the dim light trickling in from the window dances across his face. He’s shifted, meeting your gaze as you rub a hand up his arm that was in your lap. His lips look extra plump as he shoots you a smirk and it takes all your strength not to latch onto him right there.

“Like what you see, dear?” he asks, knowing full well, of course you do.

“Mmm,” you hum as you press a kiss to his lips; finding them to be too hard to resist. Your hand sneaks it’s way up to rest on top of his semi-hard bulge and Shawn bites at your lip in an attempt to keep quiet.

Luckily, you don’t have too much time to get any more lost in him as you pull up to the apartment the two of you share. He’s out in an instant, faster than you could blink, reaching a hand out to help you out of the low car.

Somebody’s eager.

He tugs you through the lobby quickly, occasionally stealing glances back at you while you trail behind him. You enter the elevator, pressing the button a few times in a faulty hope that it’ll go faster. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“When we get inside I want you to naked and kneeling on the bed,” he murmurs into your hair, “alright, princess?”

You bite your lip and nod your head. Your legs clench together at the nickname, the heat between your legs growing warmer. You know exactly what mood he was in tonight and you know he’s not playing any games. The doors finally open and you shift to dash out, feeling a slap connect with your ass. You look back to find Shawn grinning and biting his lip as he admires your figure from behind. You roll your eyes and continue on your way.

Once you two make it inside, you’re tugging your hair to the side, silently asking him to unzip your form-fitting dress. His hands dance up your sides and you feel his breath fanning against your neck as he slowly pulls the zipper down. You reach down to pull your sleek stilettos off but Shawn’s hand quickly grabs your arm.

“Keep the heels on.”

You raise your eyebrows but decide not to say anything, standing back up. You smirk as you turn around, making your way into your bedroom. You make quick work of your dress, pulling it off of your body, followed by your bra and panties. You discard them haphazardly on the floor.

You crawl onto the bed and sit back on your heels as you wait for him. Your breathing is quicker than normal, exciting anxiety coursing through your veins. You simultaneously love and hate the anticipation he’s forcing you to endure but you remind yourself that it would pay off in the end. He always left you satisfied.

After a few minutes of silently waiting, you finally see Shawn’s tall figure emerge into the dimly lit room. He’s still dressed in his tight slacks, fitting his toned legs perfectly, and his white button-up. His left hand is behind his back and you press your legs together tightly as you watch him approach you. He makes his way over until he’s stood right in front of you, gripping your jaw tightly, making you look up at him. His warm fingers press into your skin firmly, making heat pool between your legs.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” he murmurs deeply.

“Yes,” you whimper.

“Yes what?” his grip on your face tightens and he furrows his brows at you.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good.”

His tone is dark and seductive and it sends jolts through your chest. He reveals what he has hidden in his hand behind his back; silky red ribbon. Your eyes widen as your mouth drops open ever so slightly. He smirks at your expression, making his way around the bed silently and crawling up to kneel behind you. He firmly grabs your hands that are still placed politely in your lap and moves them to sit behind you. You feel the soft ribbon wrapping tightly around your wrists and sigh at the feeling of the smooth fabric rubbing against your skin.

You feel him finish off the knot off and press a kiss to your shoulder before he makes his way in front of you again. Your eyes trail up his figure as he watches you. You feel your core aching as you take notice of the outline of his hard cock in his tight slacks. You sigh and wiggle a bit on the bed, getting impatient for his next move.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmurs while his eyes take you in. “Tied up and waiting for me.”

His fingers start unbuttoning his shirt as his eyes remain on yours. His gaze is unfaltering and intense; confidence dripping off of him. He shrugs the white material off his shoulders and reaches for the buckle of his belt. He tugs the band off of his hips and places it on the bed next to you. You hold back a groan as he slowly unbuttons his pants and tugs them down his legs, revealing his flushed member.

“Like what you see, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod quickly, wanting him to get to it. He smirks at your response.

He steps closer to you, your face level with his cock. He’s rubbing himself in front of you as he smirks down at you, cockily. Your heartbeat is thumping in your ears as you drown in anticipation.

“Wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me,” he whispers, pushing the tip to your slightly parted lips.

You press a kiss to his slit as you look up at him. His hand is still rubbing his member as you kitten lick the tip of his aching cock. Shawn’s other hand makes its way into your hair, resting on top of your head and tugging you forward gently. You take his hint and wrap your lips around his tip. You press your tongue to the underside of his warm cock and swirl it around. His brows are furrowed as he watches you suck on his sensitive tip.

His grip on your hair tightens, signaling that he wants more and who are you to deny that? You inch your mouth further down his length until he’s just about to your throat. You bob your head, sucking your cheeks in and moaning against him. His head is thrown back and beautiful sighs leave his lips.

“Come on babygirl, I know you can take more of me than that,” he suggests, gently pushing your head further down on him.

Your fists are clenched behind you as you focus on relaxing your throat. You feel his cock stretching your throat out and you stay there for a moment. He groans at the feeling of your tight throat gagging slightly around him. He pulls out for a moment, letting you catch your breath before he shoves himself back inside.

“Gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he grunts as he starts to roll his hips. The sounds of your slight gags fill the room as he shoves his cock down your tight throat. His gaze is fixated on your eyes as you look up at him through your lashes. His cheeks are rosy and he groans at the sight of your eyes watering while drool drips down your mouth onto the bed. What a dirty sight.

He continues his thrusts for a few moments before he pulls you off of him quickly. You gasp, trying to catch your breath after his brutal treatment. You chuckle breathlessly, smirking up at him as you lick your lips. His thumb comes down to wipe at your wet chin, tugging your lip in the process.

“Such a good girl,” he trails, staring at your fucked face.

He comes back behind you, untying your wrists and rubbing at them gently to soothe them. He tosses the silk ties to the side, deciding he wants you to feel him tonight. All of him. He rubs your tight shoulders for a brief moment as he kisses your neck. You relax at the feeling of his warm lips dressing your neck in wet kisses.

“I want you to lay back for me,” he whispers in your ear, sending a chill down your spine, “spread your legs.”

You comply quickly after he shifts on the bed, standing up. You relax back into the mattress and bring your knees up a bit and spread your legs wide for him. You lick your lips and wiggle on the bed a little bit as you watch him walk to the end of the bed, eyeing you like you’re his pretty. You catch his eyes trailing up from your stilettos up to your center.

He’s crawling up the bed, eyes fixated on your wet core. His normally bright hazel eyes are clouded and lustful now. When you catch sight of his hungry eyes, you giggle at him. You feel a slight cockiness fill your head when you realize how weak he really is for you. His face doesn’t move but his eyes flick up to you, glaring at you, wondering what you find so funny. His dark eyes stay trained on yours, squinting a bit as he lowers himself onto his stomach and starts pressing kisses to your warm stomach. Your muscles contract at the feeling of his teasing kisses trailing down towards your center, dripping for him.

His warm lips trail across your stomach, hip to hip, and his breath fans lightly against your skin. You sigh and close your eyes as you feel him tease you.

“What do you want princess?” he inquires, knowing damn well what you want. You decide an attitude is far from what he wants though and conclude that if you just be good, he’ll give you exactly what you want.

“Your mouth, Shawn” you whimper, “please.”

“Mmm, what was that?”

“D-daddy,” you stutter, realizing your mistake, “I want your mouth, Daddy.”

You glance down at him and see him smirking up at you.

“Mmm, that’s right, dear.”

His teasing continues only for a moment before you feel his hands reach the fold of your knees, pushing your legs open even wider for him. He presses a few kisses to your aching clit before inching his tongue out to slide against you. You whimper and feel your stomach clench at the sensation.

His tongue is rubbing wet circles against your sensitive nub and you’re absolutely reeling. Your back arches as Shawn’s lips suck your clit up into his mouth and pop it out a few times before he returns to flicking at it with his tongue. Moans vibrate against you as he grunts at the feeling of your hands pulling at his wild curls. He can’t help but rut his hips slightly against the bed as he focuses on pleasing you with his mouth. Even though he was fully in control, his goal was only to please you.

“Love this pretty pussy,” he groans, detaching his mouth from your core to stare down at it in amazement, “all mine.”

You whine, “All yours.”

He’s quick to dive back in and you’re absolutely lost in the feeling of his mouth, completely unaware when his long fingers wedge themselves inside of you. Your whimpers have turned into full-fledged moans, choking out into the quiet air. Shawn’s digits curl up and thrust into your spongy spot as his mouth continues to work you. You’re tossing your head around as you wither at the pleasure, unable to keep your composure.

He feels you tightening around his fingers, silently signaling to him that your high is approaching and he pumps for a few more moments before pulling off of you completely. He watches in amazement as your core clenches around nothing.

“Mmm, babygirl, you’re throbbing,” Shawn mewls, his eyes divulging in the delicious sight.

You’re whimpering and trying to pull him back to you with your heels, aching for your stolen orgasm, but he’s got other plans for you. He sits back on his knees before he wraps his strong arms around your legs, tugging you closer to him. Your thighs are rested upon his as his hands rub your hips as you lay on your back.

“P-please daddy,” you plead, grabbing at your breasts, aching for the release he’s so torturously denying you.

His lips have crashed against you, all tongue and teeth, moving in time with yours.

“Please what, love?” his nose grazes the shell of your ear, nipping at your earlobe. You shiver at the contact. “What do you want?”

You grumble, rolling your neck and pouting, suddenly frustrated with his teasing, “You know what I want, now give it to me.”

“Mmm, now that’s no way to talk to Daddy, hm?” he says turning his head and squinting his eyes down at you. A hand snakes up to your neck, gripping just beneath your jaw and pressing into your skin. You moan out as a delicious pressure fills your head as he squeezes gently.

His grip on your throat tightens a bit and you feel him rut his hips into yours, creating a beautiful shock of friction.

“I thought you said you were gonna be good for me? Naughty girls don’t get what they want,” he whispers, darkly into your ear. You shudder at the feeling of his grip. “Lay on your stomach. Now.”

The proposition was a demand, not a request and you knew that. You flipped quickly on the bed, feeling him straddle your thighs. Shawn’s hands took purchase on your ass, pawing at you, firmly. He squeezed your cheeks in his hands and spread you open. A growl leaves his chest as he looks down at you.

“Love this ass,” he says, “Too bad I’m gonna have to spank it.”

Your breath hitches as you realize what he’s doing. A storm of butterflies has festered in your stomach as you anticipate the first smack. His large hand raises and slaps across your right side. You tense up, groaning into the blanket beneath you. You feel your wetness dripping onto the bed and you wiggle your ass for him, prompting him further.

“Mmm my dirty little girl likes to be spanked, doesn’t she?” he murmurs darkly, squeezing you in his hands.

“Fuckin’ love it, Daddy, keep going,” you beg.

“You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment but since you look so damn sexy, I’ll let it pass.”

He alternates hands for the next few minutes, slapping your ass red. Each one hurts a bit more but you love the painful bite. You feel his rock hard length pressed against the back of your thighs as he continues your punishment, eventually coming to a stop after he’s satisfied. You sigh as you feel his weight leave your thighs.

His hands grab your ankles, just above your heels and yank you quickly so you’re flipped back onto your back. You giggle in surprise and he smiles down at you as he crawls up your body. Your smile sends electricity through his soul and he swears his knees go weak for a moment.

“Love that laugh, dear. You’re so fucking gorgeous," he whispers into your lips, pressing a deep kiss to them. You hum and rub your hands up his bare chest, feeling his light dusting of hair and eventually settling your arms around the back of his neck.

His body leans into yours, effectively pushing his length against your center. You whine a bit, suddenly impatient to feel him. He continues to rut his hips against you, effectively teasing you. You almost slip up and tell him to get to it, but you decide to bite the words behind your lips. After a few moments, his desire overpowers his wish to ease and he finally pulls away to sit back on his heels and slide his pink tip against you. He swirls it around your clit for a moment, wanting to hear you beg for him. You choke out a moan at the sensation and grab aimlessly at him.

“What do you want?” he mutters; his voice raspy and deeper than normal and suddenly very close to your ear, “Beg for it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you whine, wiggling against him, “God, please fuck me, Daddy.”

“Mmm, you want me to fuck you, babygirl?”

“Fuck, yes. Please, please, please,” you pant as his tip moves faster against your clit.

You gasp as he slams into you without warning, bottoming out instantly. Your stomach clenches at the tight fit and your eyes widen. He gives you a fraction of a moment to adjust to his size before he starts rocking his hips into you. His pace isn’t slow, but it’s not particularly fast either. Shawn wants to make sure you feel it all tonight. He wants to make you feel good. He wants to remind you.

You sigh at the feeling of him slipping in and out of you and close your eyes. His hands are gripping your hips firmly, holding you in place as he slowly picks up his speed. The sound of his hips slapping against yours echoes off the walls and the groans leaving both of your mouths blend with it to create a sinful harmony.

“Such a good girl takin’ all of me.” his voice disrupts, “That’s my pretty girl,”

His hands leave your hips in favor of moving to your tits where he squeezes you tightly. Shawn’s hips don’t stop rutting into for a second as he smacks your chest, watching your tits bounce against his abrupt slap.

Sweat is gathering on his forehead and his flushed chest. His cheeks are rosy and his mouth is hanging open slightly as he moans into the air. Your eyes stay on his rosy cheeks and those damn lips. They were pink as ever and if he wasn’t fucking you so well you’d be attached to them right now.

His abs contract as he slams into you at a brutal pace. You’re whining mindlessly, not particularly making any sense. Your breathing is jagged and you roll your head around, drunk on the pleasure Shawn is providing.

“That tight little pussy is squeezing me so good,” his dark stare bores into your eyes, “I wanna fuck it all night.”

“Do it then, Daddy.” you say playfully, “Love the feeling of your cock filling me up.”

“Gonna make you come over and over on my cock, babygirl. Sound good?”

There’s no time to respond as he switches his angle slightly, making a high pitched yelp fall from your mouth as his tip hits your sensitive spot. You nod your head quickly, words failing to slip out of your mouth.

His hands slot under your knees and throw them over his shoulders. He grunts at the feeling of your stilettos scratching against his back.

“These heels are so fucking sexy. You’ve been driving me nuts all night, kitten.”

“Mmm that’s the goal,” you giggle, biting your lip while you arch your back.

Shawn throws his head back as he feels you clench around him, his adam’s apple protruding deliciously. You prop yourself up on your elbows and peak down at where the two of you meet. His length is glistening with your juices as he slides in and out of you with ease.

“Look how pretty that pussy looks, takin’ my cock,”

You whine at the sight of his hand reaching up to rub your clit quickly. The added friction was just what you needed to go hurdling towards your release. He lowers himself to dress your neck in hot kisses, dragging from your shoulder to your ear. Your senses are overcome with all of him. In this moment, he is everything.

“Gonna cum, babygirl? Cum on daddy’s cock, give it to me” he chants into your ear, encouraging your impending release.

You let go at the sound of his smooth voice praising you. His pace falters slightly as he feels you throbbing around him but he’s determined to hold out longer for you. He told you that you would cum multiple times tonight and he was always a man of his word.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you embraced the euphoric feeling. Choked moans left your chest incessantly and Shawn could feel his cock throb at the sound. His thrusting eventually slows a bit after he helps you ride it out, and he pulls himself out of you, giving you a moment to collect yourself.

You’re lying on the bed, absolutely spent. Your breathing is slow and deep, trying to come back down to earth. You close your eyes for a moment but are interrupted by Shawn tapping your hip.

“Lay on your side. Now.”

You comply and quickly roll onto your side, still a bit lost in your bliss. One elbow props you up and you look behind your shoulder as Shawn slots himself next to you, spooning your body.

“Leg up,” he demands, cupping your thigh with his hand and propping it up. He grabs his member and swiftly slips in back inside of you. You whimper at the little pop it takes for him to slip in. He grunts and hisses once he’s slotted all the way inside of you, “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight I barely fit.”

“Mmm, you’re so thick, daddy.” you whimper as he begins his strokes again.

“This pussy is what dreams are made of, Jesus fucking Christ. Could die like this, babe.”

The angle he’s working you at is surprisingly heavenly. His body fits perfectly against yours and he feels so close. His thrusts aren’t quite as fast this way but they feel intensely intimate. You can feel his breath fanning across your shoulder as he slots his face in the crook of your neck. Warmth radiates off of his body, transferring to yours.

The world has fallen away and you’re completely relaxed against his strong body. His long fingers have made their way back to your clit again, swirling wildly. His sighs are close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His lips continue working against your neck and he nips at your earlobe.

“Love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers, “don’t forget it.”

You melt further into him, his sweet words sharply contrasting the filthy situation.

“I love you too, Shawn”

His nose nuzzles into your hair and you close your eyes, listening to the sounds falling from his lips. He’s trying so hard to hold out for you, wanting to prolong your pleasure. He shifts a tad, finding that spot again and quickly sends you over the edge.

You wiggle against him, your second orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. The sound of your cries takes his breath away and he’s determined to hear it at least once more tonight. Pleasure pumps through your body for a few moments and he’s quick to get you on your knees the second you’re done. He shows absolutely no mercy as his tip rubs against your sensitive core, getting ready to slip in once again.

“Shawny, I’m so sensitive,” you whimper, pulling away from him slightly.

His hands grab your hips and roughly pull you back to him.

“You’re gonna give me another one, sweetheart. I gotta remind you who makes you feel this good.”

So that’s what this is about.

Fuck, he’s hot when he’s jealous.

A hand slaps across your ass and you flinch at the feeling, body jolting forward a bit. Shawn’s fingers slip down to rub against your over-stimulated nub and you go weak in the knees. You fall forward, face mashing against the mattress as his fingers spiral against you.

“Sound good, love? Gonna cum for daddy again?”

You nod quickly, your cheek pulling against the mattress you were laid out on. Another slap meets your skin and you groan.

“I need you to say it, baby.” he searches for your verbal consent.

“Yes, Shawn,” you whine, eager to feel him again, “Make me cum on your cock again, please.”

That’s all he needs to bury himself back inside of you. The position you were in made you feel a bit tighter and you winced for a moment as he started moving. Soon, the pain subsided and his pace picked back up to an unbelievable speed. Your jaw was slack as his hips collided with yours. His hands were situated on your waist and he was holding you as-if you would disappear at any moment. His composure was beginning to falter and his moans slowly turned into choked mewls.

You turned your head to attempt to look at him and the sight was beautiful. His head was thrown back, exposing all the valleys on his long neck. His adam’s apple protruded through his smooth skin and his lip was tucked under his straight teeth. His mouth falls open as he picks his head back up to look where the two of you meet. The sight of your wetness soaking him sends chills down his spine. He can’t believe how lucky he got with you.

He catches your eyes and smirks at you before he slaps your ass.

“Like that? Does my good girl like to get fucked from behind?”

“You feel so fucking good like this, daddy, fuuuuck” your voice bounces as his body collides with yours.

“You get so tight after you cum. You feel like fucking heaven.”

You start to meet his deep thrusts, tossing your hips back to meet his pace. He maintains his efforts for a few moments but eventually lets you take what you need of him. He’s absolutely beside himself as he watches you work him.

“Fuuuck, babygirl. That’s it, fuck yourself on my cock,” he growls, “you look so gorgeous like this.”

Shawn lets you go on like this for a bit before he snaps out of his daze. He’s determined to stay in control tonight. He’s determined to remind you who you belong to. Nobody could make you feel this good.

His hips double down, somehow rutting into you even faster than before. You fall silent for a few moments, unable to process how amazing he’s making you feel. Your legs are shaking slightly but his large hands hold you in place, firmly. His mind is consumed by you. Nothing could ever take you from him. No one. He knows he doesn’t have to prove himself, but God is it fun.

“Gonna cum again, baby? I can feel it,” he grumbles while his hands rub your hips and waist. Your words don’t seem to form as high whimpers tumble off of your lips.

“Who makes you feel this good?” he growls, thrusting harshly.

“You do, Shawn,”

“That’s right, only I can fuck you like this,” his dirty words fall out of his mouth like silk, “only me.”

“Only you, Shawny.”

Moans fill the air as you both reach your final highs of the night. Your center throbs around him, milking him for all he’s worth. His chest heaves as he empties himself inside of you. The sound of heavy breathing soaks into the air as you both come down from your explosive highs.

His hands rub across your back as he pulls himself out of you. You sigh at the loss, feeling your juices dripping out of you and down your legs. His fingers spread you apart and his hungry eyes divulge in the dirty sight. You giggle innocently as you push some of it out. It takes everything he has to stop himself from making you go for another round. He smacks your ass playfully and you lower yourself onto your stomach.

Shawn slips off of the bed and makes his way into the dimly lit bathroom for a moment. You bite your lip as you observe his naked figure walking back into the room. He notices your stare and giggles, “Eyes to yourself, pervert,”

“Mmm, rich coming from the man that just made me cum 3 times.” you wittily reply.

“Damn right I did,” he smiles cockily. “Lay on your back, open your legs.”

“Just can’t get enough of me can you?” you giggle, turning over for him. He rolls his eyes and crouches down onto the bed.

“Just wanna clean you up.”

He gently wipes up your mess, paying special attention to be careful with your sensitive core. You smile down at him as you observe his tender care. A kiss is pressed into your tummy before he moves to toss the cloth into the hamper. He stops at your dresser, snagging one of his big t-shirts for you along with a pair of panties and some boxers for himself.

He quickly slips into the black boxers, stumbling over to the bed. You’re still laid across it, spent after your session.

“Can you sit up for me, love?”

You comply and sit up, pressing your lips out and silently asking for a kiss. He smiles and delivers, giving you a soft peck.

“Arms up.”

You lift your arms and he slides the shirt down your arms and over your head, draping you in his favorite shirt. He has you lay back and he tugs a clean pair of panties on you and quickly plops himself on top of you.

His arms squeeze your waist as his head burrows into your neck. You hum at the feeling of his weight on top of you, providing you with a sense of comfort. He melts into your embrace as your small hands run up and down his back. He always gets so soft after the two of you finish; a stark contrast to his dominant demeanor in bed.

“Bubba?” you chirp quietly.

“Hmm,” he hums into your neck, suddenly sleepy.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,”

You frown a little, shifting under him to prop your head against the headboard. He stirs on top of you, avoiding your gaze by staying buried in your neck. Your hand slowly comes to a stop on his back as your mind became preoccupied.

“Are you still upset about Matt?”

He sighs.

“I don’t know, I guess.”

Your frown grows and your hand moves to continue rubbing his soft skin in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

“Yeah?” you inquire, prompting him. He hesitates, still buried in your neck. He feels like he could die of embarrassment if you look at him.

“It’s dumb.” he sighs, trying to avoid the topic.

“If it’s upsetting you, it isn’t dumb.”

His grip around your waist tightens.

“You’re just mine,” he starts. You wait a moment, seeing if he’ll explain further, “I don’t wanna share you.”

“You don’t have to, baby. I’m yours.” you reason, threading your fingers into his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I know, that’s why it’s dumb. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything. I just didn’t like seeing him touch you like that.”

You hum, resting your face on his head. His legs are tangled up with yours as he pecks your neck.

“He was just drunk. I’m sorry though, bubby. I didn’t think it would happen.”

His head pops up suddenly, his brows furrowed as he shoots you a confused look. Your eyebrows raise, confused by his sudden movement.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” he blurts, concern lacing his soft voice. “I’m the jealous asshole boyfriend. I should be the sorry one.”

You giggle at his serious tone, smacking his bare shoulder lightly, “whatever,”

“Seriously! I shouldn’t be jealous. I trust you completely. I just got a weird vibe. I don’t know,” he trails off at the end, laying his head back down in your neck.

“I know you do. I love you more than anything and there’s nothing on this earth that could ever take me from you.”

He smiles against your skin, cheeks warming up immediately.

“I love you. Forever.” he murmurs, lifting his head to press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you too. Forever.”

The moment slows again, your bodies resting against the other. The conversation shifts, the two of you decided there was nothing to really talk about. You know he trusts you, and you know he’s not truly jealous. He just got a little territorial and you couldn’t blame him.

“So, what happened to that ribbon you used to tie my hands?” you giggle, switching the conversation.

His eyebrows raise at your question and he blushes, getting worried that you didn’t enjoy it. It wasn’t the first time you’d done anything like that but he still got a tinge of worry.

“Um, I just wanted to feel you,” he slowly states, “w-was it okay?”

“Mmm more than okay. So sexy,” you giggle, stroking his hair. “Just thought you’d use it again.”

“Maybe I will sometime,” he hums, dressing your neck with kisses.

His kisses trail your skin lazily, “Mine.”

“Yours.”

[diabeticlichen-thropy]

Resolution Through Dialogue (and fists if needed)

Story with Diabetic OC

Chapter II - 2,777 words

Chapter II

Theo was an agent for the FBI’s Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services Branch. She had been with her department for a decade after her recruitment after finishing her PhD in Microbiology at UC Berkeley where she and Chris met. She worked as an agent within the Critical Incident Response Group where she spent most of her days working under Unit Chief Lucas Secman and with a team of five other close agents, Daniel Penzias, Annalise Olivier, Jason Moran and Hugo Stoneward as a member of the Crisis Negotiation Unit. The team was closer than most due to the graphic, intense and often strange nature of their work, coupled with their strange hours and long days.

Today Theo walked into the office to everyone crowded around Jason’s desk, “What’s going on?” She asked as she approached the crowd. “Jason is showing everyone his new kitten” Daniel told her. Her coworkers turned to face her and parted to show her, the usually stone faced Agent Moran cradling a tiny black and white kitten, smiling down at it. “You got a cat?” She asked shocked, Moran had never seen like the pet type

“I found him while I was out running over the weekend, he was starving and stuck down a drain, I couldn’t leave him. Meet Derek”

Theo cooed at the kitten, scratching him behind the ears. Moran having rescued the cat made sense, the man had a paternal streak a mile wide, it was part of the reason he was such a good agent especially in cases involving children.

The scene was interrupted when Secman’s door swung open and the call of “conference room” alerted the agents to a new case. The group filed out of the bullpen and into the team’s designated conference room. Secman took his seat at the head of the table and handed files to each agent. Theo flipped hers open skimmed the details. Her heart began to sink. They were needed for a hostage negotiation at a middle school in Utah. There were at least three armed gunmen and an additional two armed students, as well as two suspected explosive devices. There was no time for discussion on the ground as Secman told Hugo to stay behind and liaise from Washington, and the rest of the team to grab their go-bags from their desks and meet in the Bureau jet in twenty. Theo and Daniel raced to their desks, each pulling a duffel bag from their places under their desks and giving each other a look. After their many years working together they had this routine down pat. He threw Theo his water bottle and she jogged to fill both of them up while he raided the kitchen for snacks. He grabbed a couple of mini bags of chips along with a pack of juice boxes for Theo and some granola bars for himself. They met back at their desks and ran through their mental checklists. Theo swore to herself under her breath and went back to the kitchen, grabbing three insulin vials out of the fridge followed by three infusion sets and a handful of test strips and slipping them in a refrigerated bag in her bag. Checking their watches the two grabbed their bags and joined Annalise in a Suburban as they headed to the airport, the rest of the team not far behind.

On board the jet the situation was tense. Theo had sent Chris a text right before they took off, briefing him on what she could and letting him know that she may not be home for a few days. The couple was relatively used to this situation and Chris had just wished her luck and told her to stay safe and that he hoped she’d be able to call that night. Hugo had gotten some more information out of the South Jordan Police Department. The school had approximately 1,400 students and of those, an estimated 1,200 were on campus. Most were supposedly congregated in the gym but smaller class-sized groups were spread throughout the main building. The local field office and bomb disposal squad were to meet them on the scene once the CNU had arrived. The small police department had been completely overwhelmed by the scale of the crisis and with hundreds of panicked parents, the team’s skills were desperately needed. Secman was in Unit Chief mode, designating roles for each team member so that they could hit the ground running. Hugo was running intel from his office in Washington and currently video chatting with the team on board. Jason was to handle the police department and bomb squad, getting information and forming a strategy. Daniel was going to liaise with the field office, Annalise needed to see what she could get from the parents who’s children were in contact with them as well as anyone else with potential information from inside the school. Finally, Secman and Theo were to set up a negotiation strategy with the offenders inside.

“We’re unlikely to get much sleep for the next 48 hours or so, so try to use the next three hours on here to nap” Secman informed the team signifying that the briefing was over. Theo and Daniel moved away from the table to one of the sofa-like set ups that lined the jet. All of the agents on the teams had become pros at sleeping when and were they could and within 15 minutes the jet was silent as most of the team slept. Theo was dozing when a sudden aggressive beeping jolted her to alert. As she began to move the weakness that signified a hypoglycaemic event made itself apparent along with the slight shake in her hands. From across the aisle Secman, not looking up from the mess of papers in front of him, tossed her a mini packet of skittles. She checked the number on her pump, 60mg/dl and tore open the packet pouring most of the skittles into her mouth. She grabbed her bottle of water out of her bag and began to sip on it. She sat there spaced out, eating skittles for about 15 minutes until Secman let her know that she was above 70 and handed her a granola bar. She shared the data from her CGM with her whole team in case something went dramatically wrong while working a case. It gave everyone more peace of mind that she had support if she needed it. Once her brain and body were finally back online she tried to catch some more sleep for the next few hours so that she was at her best once they landed.

The jet touched down in Salt Lake City at around lunch time and the team climbed straight into the provided cars for the 20 minute drive to South Jordan. Theo found herself headed to the school along with Jason, Annalise and Secman while another car took Daniel to the local field office. As soon as the car was put in park at the scene, agents poured out of the car, pulling their FBI bullet-proof vests over their heads. Annalise was escorted by the local PD to a group of parents sheltering in a taped-off area to begin assessing the situation, Jason was taken over to the current mission control and was soon commanding the attention of the various police officers and the kitted-up bomb squad. Secman strode off in the direction of a singular police car and FBI vehicle and Theo followed behind him.

“Unit Chief Lucas Secman of the CNU” he said shaking the hands of the local Chief of Police and a few local agents. “SSA Penzias” Theo introduced herself, doing the same. “We’re sorry that this has happened but we’re here to help”

“What’s the plan for negotiations?” Secman asked, skipping any further pleasantries and getting straight to the point “According to school records we have twelve hundred students from grades seven through nine. We have been approached by an offender who introduced himself as Allen but we have yet to extend any further contact beyond acknowledging them and getting a welfare guarantee”, the chief gave them the rundown. The agents nodded, “what about the students not in the gym? Do we have anything on them?” Theo asked.

“We have information from class records that suggests that most of the science classes have been locked in the laboratories”

“Ages?” Secman asked shortly, clearly wanting to get on with it.

“Mostly eighth and ninth graders” the chief responded. Secman turned to Theo,

“Get Stoneward on the line and get him to start trying to get some sort of satellite map of classes, if he can get a current thermal image even better” he turned to the chief, “we’re going to need a phone to contact the attackers inside as well as a line to the media, Agent Penzias will handle them”. While her boss continued to issue orders and get set up for negotiations, Theo pulled out her laptop and contacted Hugo. “Theo, what’s needed?” He asked, she could see his fingers racing across his keyboard as the monitors behind him showed current media coverage as well as satellite images and the police scanners for the county. “Lucas wants current satellite imagery, preferably thermal, we still don’t know where all of the students are located”

“On it” he responded, “I’ll set up a live capture and send it to your laptop”

“Thanks” she told him, walking back over to the group, “we’ll have a thermal and satellite livestream within a few minutes” she told Secman. He nodded in her direction, turning back to the local, Special Agent in Charge, “could you please contact the Hostage Rescue Team, I’m hoping we can do this through negotiation but I don’t want to risk the lives of these children if things go south”. The agent gave a sharp nod and walked away to do just that. The rest of the congregated officers and agents took that as their dismissal and most headed in different directions across the school’s parking lot leaving Theo, Secman and a few local agents huddled around Theo’s laptop, viewing Hugo’s livestreams and discussing potential tactics with the rest of the unit once Daniel arrived a few moments later. The unit decided to establish contact inside the school without waiting for Hostage Rescue but have them en route in the case of things going wrong. The team moved into action.

With Hugo’s voice and support filtering through their earpieces the CNU gathered around a squad car. Secman picked up the megaphone “I am Unit Chief Lucas Secman with the FBI’s Crisis Negotiation Unit and would like to talk to you. We will establish contact through the school’s phones”. With that he set down the megaphone and turned to Jason who handed him a phone with the school’s internal number already dialled. The dial tone sounded once, twice, three times before connecting, “Agent Secman I assume, my name is Samuel”, Secman shot a glance to the laptop where Hugo nodded to show that he was receiving the audio from the conversation, “good afternoon Samuel”, Hugo nodded again to show he had both ends of the call recorded. It wouldn’t have been obvious to those who didn’t know him, but the team watched as Hugo’s reassurance caused their supervisor to visibly relax. “How are the students?” Secman asked, a little more confidence in his stance. He was in command of the situation.

“The students are fine, agent. However, my associates and I are not. We feel like we’ve been ignored” the smug voice came down the line. Theo remained stone faced but internally grimaced at the man’s tone.

“How so?” Secman asked

“Well you see my friends and I have some demands that we’ve raised but no one has listened until now. We’ve been forced into drastic measures but it’s nobody’s fault but your own agent”

Theo shot a glance to her fellow agents and Moran gave her a nod. That was her signal. She snatched her laptop off the hood of the cruiser and walked swiftly to one of the Suburbans. This was an established routine and she heard the audio in her earpiece switch from Hugo’s office to Secman’s phone conversation as Hugo realised what was going on. Once in the car she routed Hugo’s voice chat through the laptop as he isolated their call from the other’s earpieces. They didn’t need the distraction. “Alright Stoneward let’s do this” she told Hugo as she opened another window on the laptop. “Let’s go through repeated police reports in the last three years in the South Jordan area”

“Once we’ve got those we can cross-check with the name Samuel to see what we’ve got”. Theo hummed as she texted Penzias the update and what they were doing. She pulled up the local PD’s records only to sigh when she realised what a mess they were. She heard an answering groan from the speakers as Hugo saw the same thing. “Alright, you take 2016, I’ll take 2017” she said, “focus on causes that people focus around, environmental issues, vandalism, gentrification things like that”. However, as the words came out her mouth she realised something. “Actually, you take the police complaints, I’m going to look into complaints made to the city”.

Samuel seemed to have gotten defensive and so Secman had switched tactics to appealing to the safety of the children. Theo pulled up the city’s records over the last five years, she searched for complaints made to council members, letters to the mayor and residential complaints. She cross-checked for repeated complaints and anything that involved the name Samuel. That brought back hundreds of names and motivations. She sighed at the sheer size of the task she seemed to be facing, but sat up and thought through how to reduce the results down to likely pools. She filtered by age of the complainant, setting the range to white men in their thirties to fifties. That dramatically reduced the number, it looked like many of the grievances were the local elderly, not that Theo found that surprising. Her phone beeped, Secman needed her back out in the negotiation so she quickly sent her reduced list to Stoneward with a note of where she was at and jogged back across the lot to the rest of her team.

Annalise grabbed her by the elbow, “so Secman has managed to get welfare checks and a name list of students in the school but he can’t make head or tail of why” she informed Theo, “he wants you to talk to him”. A shiver crawled up Theo’s spine at the thought of communicating with the creep who was placing so many children at risk but this was the job. She nodded at Annalise, “thanks for the rundown” she said and the two agents walked over. Secman raised an eyebrow at her, checking she knew what was going on. Theo just gestured for the phone and he handed it to her. “Samuel yes? This is Supervisory Special Agent Theo Wilson with the CNU, how are you today?”

“Skip the pleasantries agent, what are you after?” the man asked shortly, Theo winced internally but showed nothing. “I would like to know why you’re keeping the students hostage” she told him honestly, running through possible ways this conversation could go in the back of her mind. “I already told Lucas there, we’ve been forced into this”

“Forced? How so? I don’t assume anyone is holding you at gunpoint are they Sammy?” Theo asked. She saw Hugo’s head snap in her direction at the tone she was taking but Daniel held a hand up to the screen quieting him. There was a pause on the other end of the line, brief but enough to show the team that he’d been caught off guard by Theo’s approach. “You’re well aware then that we are the armed ones agent” the retort came.

“Of course you are, you couldn’t pull this off by yourself could you? No. You chose children because they’re easy to overpower. You have fellow conspirators because you could never do this alone” Theo further antagonised. “So now that we’ve established that you’re not the big intimidating man you think you are, how about we discuss this like adults instead of throwing, what appears to be, a large scale temper tantrum? Now. Would you like to discuss this with me? Or with Secman?” The pause on the other end was much longer this time. The silence seemed to last minutes. “You have five minutes to decide” she said and hung up.

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