#here is my canon based evidence *passes out*

[citrine-elephant]

mngh, tell me if this fits for the blondie....

leon having an actual full blown panic attack. dangerously close to straight up screaming and crying.

but,

leon managing to pull himself back. it takes a few minutes to get steady in his head...

... and he uses this moment as bait. he manages to level his mind out, but he still holds on to a façade of terror. or, partially a façade, lol.

leon pretending to have had a fully fleshed out breakdown. pretending to be more scared than he really is. and using it to bring the guard down of his.... friendly, uh, interviewers.

[simping-overload]

ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴅᴇᴇʀ - ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ

a/n: showing my love for my favorite Greek God of all time, Hermes<3 this is a multichapter fanfic.

trigger warnings: animal hunting so animal death. Religious themes and practices

synopsis: You never thought helping out a lost hobo would end up with you in the loving embrace of a god.

『read on ao3』

『prev chapter ⟺ next chapter』

disclaimer: hermes is based on his BOZ, EPIC, and canon mythology. I don't really know how ancient greece actually was or how hunting works so take this with a grain of salt! It is just fanfiction :)

You come from a village that has been long-term worshippers of the goddess, Artemis. Each year, the village holds a festival, Laphria¹. With this festival, of course, comes activities, the most important being the hunt. Where 3 main selected participants, who were allowed to bring at the maximum two others along the hunt with them, they were to hunt down a large stag, whoever was to bring back the largest wins.

The reward would entail being given a large sum of money and being allowed to worship the goddess to the fullest extent, which means you'd get to say your prayers before everyone, including the high elders.

This year, you were finally chosen for the hunt, much to the joy of your family and friends. You were their best hunter and tracker, able to find an animal with ease regardless of how little the evidence that has been left behind.

After passing a familial trail—hunting a snow hare in the middle of snowstorm— you were gifted a beautiful pup who you named Winston². The two of you were jointed at the hip. There wasn't a place you'd go without him. This included the hunt.

You decided to bring two of your beloved friends along, Damian and Agnes. You set off at dawn, racing into the trees on the back of your horses, Winston running ahead as the scout.

Agnes and Damian were chattering away behind you as you looked over the map. You wanted to try and plan out all paths you could safely use.

"So...do you think if I win this, it would get Corinna at the very least interested in me?" Damian questions, fiddling with the horses' reins. He had a crush on Corinna ever since they were teens, spending most of his time trying to impress her— which failed considering he always made a fool of himself.

Agnes, bless her, rolling her eyes as she listens to Damian rant, just as the millions times before. She's been friends with him since they were babies. Both of their mothers were the best of friends, so it makes sense they were too.

You didn't come into the picture until you were about 7 or so, moving here to take care of your grandmother after she got sick.

You met Agnes when your mother invited hers over, and then her mother invited Damian's over. You all were just placed in front of each other and expected you all to click automatically. Thankfully, you did, and you've been friends ever since.

"Probably, but you need to remember Nikolaos is in this competition too, I know he's been desperate to get her hand as well." She pauses as her horse jumps over a fallen tree. She looks back at Damian with a blank stare and continues. "And also this could've been avoided if you just grew a pair of balls and confessed."

"I can't just do that— I need to get her attention first. Maybe we'll find that white stag the elders ramble about." Damian giggles as he pictures Corinna leaping into his arms and saying yes to his proposal. He was such a lovesick fool.

"Or maybe she's already interested and is waiting for you to confess. I've heard its custom in her family for the woman to wait for the man to ask, no matter how long it takes." You chime in, not looking up from your map.

"Wait wh—" Damian is cut off when a large gray wolf jumps from out of the trees, holding a white hare in its mouth.

Your horse, startled, bucks you off its back, sending you to the forest floor. You're now eye level with the wolf, noticing how its eyes are an unnatural golden color.

You and the wolf stared each other down for a moment before it huffed and leaps back into the trees. Agnes drops down from her horse and rushes to your side, while Damian goes off to fetch your horse.

You snapped out of your daze when you felt something wet touched your cheek. It was Winston, licking at you and whining in concern.

You pat his head to calm him, and you lean on Agnes for support as you stand. She brushes the dirt and leaves off your back.

"Hey, you okay?" She questions, her freckled face is laced with concern.

You feel fine, a little sore, but nothing you hadn't been through before. There was something about that wolf that just stuck with you, "Yeah, I'm fine. That wolf, though... its eyes were like pure gold."

"Maybe it's one of Lady Artemis' wolves? It wouldn't be the first time she's watched over the hunts." She suggests, steppingaway from you once you've steady yourself. Damian comes back with your now calm horse, handing you the reins.

"I suppose? Though I never heard of a wolf having pure gold eyes before... Anyway, Winston, did you see anything?

Winston barks in reply, his tail wagging before he runs off. You mount your horse and begin to follow him. You motion the other two to do the same.

Winston leads you to what looks to be a temple, one that seems to have been neglected for years. Nature has taken over, vines have trickled up and wrapped themselves around the columns, and grass and flowers grow from the cracks of the floor. The usual pure white of the marble has faded into a off white tan color with a thin layer of moss across the surface.

"Let's make sure the area is safe for us to set up camp here. Agnes, check out the back of the temple, and Damian, you'll start with the outer perimeter. I'll start with the inside. Regroup to the front once you're sure no one else has been here."

Agnes nods, and Damian gives an alright in response before going back into the forest. You dismount your horse, tying it to a loose fence post. You make your way up the cracked stone steps and into the temple.

The rays of sun lit the inside of the temple, illuminating the illustrations that line the walls and ceilings. Going off of the winged shoes on the god that was illustrated, this was a temple of Hermes. You wonder if there was ever a village that was here before yours that were worshippers of him.

Your search around the temple came up empty, with no human activity. Only animals and plants seemed to have been inside. You leave the temple in time to see with Damian and Anges coming back.

"There doesn't look like there's anyone for miles, only animals. I saw the cutest fox kits." Anges says.

"Same here, though I wasn't blessed with seeing any cute aniamls today." Damian pouts, dismounting his horse, kneeling down next to Winston to ruffle his fur, "Expect for this bugger." Winston barks and licks the man's hand.

You chuckle, "Looks like it's safe to set up camp here, we'll need to find something to eat, so I'll try and find something for us. You two just set up camp and remember to use the horn if anything happens."

They give you mock salutes in response before they begin to take the supplies off the horses and into the temple. You mount yours and whistle for Winston to follow as you trot off into the woods.

It doesn't take you long to hunt something down. After finding some boar tracks, Winston leads the rest of the way to the creature. Upon finding it, you ready your bow, steadying yourself on the moving horse as you focus your aim on the boar.

You suck in a breath, drawing back your arrow and whispering a short prayer to Artemis as you relase. The arrow pierces through the side of the boar, straight to the heart, quick and painless.

Suddenly, you hear a loud scream, and off in the distance, you can see someone running towards you with what looks like a... deer? Chasing after them. Winston stands alert, ears perked, and focused on the person getting closer to you. You hold your reins tight while Winston moves in front of the horse.

The person turned out to be Nikolaos. You spot his signature ginger hair showing from under his hood before he trips over a log and face plants in front of you. He doesn't try to exchange pleasantries as he scrambles up to keep running.

The deer came soon after, gracefully hopping over the log. It glanced at you for a meer moment, giving you enough time to see its golden eyes. The same color from the wolf.

You hop down off your horse, making your way to the boar.

You are for sure this time that it wasn't Artemis. Maybe some other god?

You wrap the boars legs tight with string as you bring it back to your horse, settling it on the rear. Positioned so it won't slip off, you mount your horse once more before going back the direction you came.

As you make your way back. Your mind wanders back to Hermes. It could be him. After all, he's one of the more playful gods known for his pranks and tricks. You'll have to make an offering to him for letting you sleep in the temple, regardless if it's abandoned or not, and so he doesn't prey on your friends like he did Nikolaos.

By the time you made it to camp, it was dusk. Agnes greets you outside, taking the horse reins from you. You take the boar off of the horse, taking off to the side as you make quick work of the animal, cutting off the hide and chopping the pieces of meat you need. You leave whatever is left for Winston and the other forest creatures to feast.

Damian is quick to start cooking. Thankfully, his mother was kind enough to pack spices so your group wouldn't have to suffer tasteless food.

Until the sky went dark, you spent the rest of your time eating and talking. Damian nearly choked on his food when he heard you recant the experience in the woods earlier. He says he wishes he could've seen the look on that bastards face when he was running away. Agnes jokes that Nikolaos probably looked like a scared chicken. Which admittedly, he did, come to think of it, his screams sounded like the human equivalent of one.

As the night went on, it got quiet, Damian was the first to sleep, and Agnes was next. Winston is sprawled out in between them, snoring away. Before you rest, you bring a plate of food and burning incense to the altar.

You whisper, "Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises. Take this food as a thank you for allowing us to sleep here for the night." You pause. "Also... please refrain from chasing us as a deer or anything else for that matter. While it was funny what you did to Nikolaos, I would rather not soil my pants." You chuckle, placing the food onto the alter and the incense in a dusty holder.

You go back to your original resting place, leaning against the pillar. You feel a soft and comfortable breeze flow through the temple. The sounds of the trees rustling soothe you into a nice slumber.

Still in deer form, Hermes walks through the woods, no set destination just allowing the fates to choose where he will end up. Faintly, he can hear someone whisper a prayer.

"Please, Hermes. The God of speed and travel grant us permission to make sanctions in your temple. If you disapprove, we will be out as the sun rises..."

It was not often that he received prayers, especially not in his sisters park of Greece. He lets the prayer pull him towards the location.

Switching to his human form, he approaches the temple. It was one of his firsts. A gift to him by his father. While unkept, it still stood strong.

He sniffs the air, a familiar smell, boar. Not only did he get a prayer, but he got an offering, too? Just what he needed after chasing the mortals.

He giggles as he makes his way inside, involuntary waking up Winston, who was silenced a quick shush and a pat to the head.

Hermes looks around at the mortals who sleep before him. Wondering who said the prayer, his eyes land on you. Still leaned against the pillar, head thrown back against it. Your hand is tightly wrapped around a dagger. Ready to strike if need be.

He studied your face for a moment, his hand twitched with the desire to trace over your features. You were very attractive for a mortal, and judging from the faint golden aura he could see emitting from you, you're the one who prayed.

He steps away with a grin, making his way to the alter. He picks the plate up, nearly drooling on the food. As much as he'd love to take his time eating, he's a glutton. In seconds, the plate is empty. He holds back a burp as he makes his way back out of the temple, glancing at you as he makes his way out.

Well, he's going to have some fun on this vacation.

[room-surprise]

How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

[epsiphi]

so i saw THIS image online courtesy of twitter user @/offpridbird and it inspired me to look into the criteria for each of these disorders, and how they might fit him, so…

welcome to

My Analysis On Whether or Not Goro Akechi Has a Cluster B Personality Disorder (According to the DSM-V)

(this is a long post that took up TWELVE pages in my notebook so the nitty gritty is under the cut. tl;dr, there’s evidence in favor of all these)

now you might ask: what are your qualifications? to that i say: i’m a psychology student* who also happens to be a big fan of goro akechi. which is to say that i am not an expert; i just really like this fictional guy. my analysis is also based on my personal understanding of his character. so, you know, don’t flay me alive if i get a part of his character wrong. or do.

*high school

in case you don’t know what a cluster b personality disorder is: it’s a subset of personality disorders characterized by “dramatic, emotional, or erratic” behavior. it includes:

antisocial personality disorder (ASPD)

borderline personality disorder (BPD)

narcissistic personality disorder (NPD)

histrionic personality disorder (HPD).

this post covers ASPD, BPD, and NPD, because those are the disorders i’ve seen most ascribed to akechi. i might cover HPD some other time.

(also yes i seriously perused a copy of the dsm-v for this)

Borderline Personality Disorder

1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment: we’re looking at mr. “I was extremely particular about my life…my grades…my public image…so someone would want me around!” over here. it’s made pretty clear that akechi’s perfect persona wasn’t something he just started doing when he became famous; it started after his mother died, once he was being “passed around from foster home to foster home”. he tried to be perfect so they would want him. it’s clear that none of them did.

2. A pattern of unstable and intense relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation: the only real relationships akechi has are with joker (no canon name discourse here) and shido. it goes without saying that neither of these relationships are very normal; on akechi’s part, both are characterized by his obsessions and love-hate feelings. akechi does also kind of have an idealizing issue with joker (putting him on a pedestal—which is admittedly something most characters do, but i feel like akechi is not any more normal about joker than anyone else)

3. Identity disturbance (markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self): i feel like this guy cycles between “i was cut from the cloth of god” and “i am the scum of the earth”. in thirdsem, he does not seem to have much of a self beneath his detective prince persona (by which i mean he’s very…blank? just look at his default portrait. very blunt and to the point)

4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating): none of these apply in canon. he does seem to have issues with food (forgetting to eat, apparently eating little, not caring about the taste of what he eats vs. the appearance of it, he runs a food blog but it appears to be mostly for show). choosing to become a hitman for a comically evil politician who is also your father at age 15 would qualify for self-damaging, but might also fall under…

5. Recurrent suicidal behavior/gestures/threats, or self-mutilating behaviors: his revenge plan is so bad it’s borderline suicidal—not in the sense that he actively planned to kill himself afterwards or anything, but in the sense of he spent so long fantasizing about getting revenge that he literally never stopped to think about the day after. not envisioning a meaningful future is also suicidal.

6. Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood: this confused the hell out of me at first. it essentially means rapid, intense mood shifts. i’m…not sure, actually. (i guess you could count the insane difference between his self in battle vs himself out of battle in thirdsem as this, but i’m not the guy who can answer that).

7. Chronic feelings of emptiness: remember that thieves den conversation where yusuke mentions how difficult keeping up an act for a long stretch of time is (in reference to the pts pretending not to know the truth about akechi in sae’s palace) and akechi’s responds with “Is that so? Well, you stop feeling things once you get used to it”? because i do. (note the use of a word as general as things) (also veering into hc: i’ve seen people say akechi’s sin, had his palace not been cut, likely would’ve been acedia, which is…indifference. emptiness.)

8. Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger: have you seen the engine room. i think it’s always there, it’s just that he’s good at controlling it 98% of the time.

9. Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms: kind of on the fence about this one—leaning towards yes. i think this sort of applies to the interrogation room? he moves through a lot of it vaguely shocked + a few subsequent tv interviews. in the one soonest after 11/20–the “same strategy used in romance” interview—he has an oddly flat affect, which is funny given the context of how he’s being lauded as hero. like…he can’t even pretend to be happier. in the interview that occurs during the infiltration of shido’s palace (“none of these people know i was an undesirable child”) he mentions how the news of joker’s was dizzying—obviously he’s lying about WHY it was dizzying, but he still appears to mean it.

Total criteria fulfilled: 7/9. (Criterion 1, 2, 3, either 4 or 5 could be considered fulfilled but not both at once, 7, 8, 9)

for clarification: any suicidal behavior under criterion 5 cannot be counted in criterion 4. so if you consider “becoming a hitman for his scraped-off-the-boot-of-the-devil father at 15” as self-damaging but not suicidal, then criterion 4 is fulfilled. if you consider it suicidal behavior, then criterion 5 is fulfilled.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

1. Has a grandiose sense of self-importance: not sure how to describe this one other than “you know it bitch”

2. Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love: in my notebook i literally just wrote “yeah” for this. because i don’t have any articulated reason for this belief, i won’t count it as fulfilled criteria. but know i believe it

3. Believes that they are “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or associate with, other special or high status people: by his own admission (confidant rank 2), akechi does not have friends—or as he says, “people i’d actively choose to see in my free time”. it’s not for lack of people who’d want to be his friend; this is in june, people are raving about him. so he probably has a million connections and people who’d love to hang out with him, but he doesn’t want to hang out with a bunch of nobodies. his trait in the artbook is that he gets distracted in conversation, which is a very light way of saying that he doesn’t pay attention to people because they’re boring and not worth the time. joker falls under “other special people”. also, on “believes they’re special”: there’s something to be said about how akechi awakens to his persona 2 years before canon, and how he was totally on his own. like, as far as he knew, he was the only person with these powers—the only person without a shadow, and as such, the only person without distorted desires. so naturally he would consider himself special. (ignoring that he literally kind of is)

4. Requires excessive admiration: guy who has spent whole life internalizing that he is inherently unlovable and worthless becomes a celebrity and puts up a perfect front because he needs people to love him; more at 9. (dsm-v also states: “Their self-esteem is invariably very fragile. They may be preoccupied with how well they are doing and how favorably they are regarded by others”. obviously. hello, 8/28)

5. Has a sense of entitlement (i.e. unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment): great time to bring up Relative Deprivation Theory—the belief that someone will feel deprived of or entitled to something in comparison to another. in akechi’s case: deprivation of acceptance/love in comparison to joker and entitlement to the same (“How does someone like you have things I don’t?!”). it’s interesting that he uses his fame as a reason why he deserves what joker has, when it’s why he doesn’t (fame is not love).

6. Is interpersonally exploitative (i.e. takes advantage of others to achieve their own ends): the core of his charm is manipulation and inherent dishonesty, so i kind of feel this is a given.

7. Lacks empathy (is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others): there’s Word of God that akechi is just like, “whatever” to anyone who isn’t joker, as in he doesn’t particularly care about anyone else on a deeper level (not a ship thing; just an observation). also does not seem to care about most of the people he kills or who he get hurt as a result of his actions (i.e. psychotic breakdowns).

8. Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of them: i mean…do i really have to say anything about this.

9. Shows arrogant or haughty behaviors: do i really have to say anything about this (2). it’s kind of everywhere in the third semester. if you want more evidence: look at his thieves den conversations (crazy)

Total criteria fulfilled: 8/9. (All criterion but 2)

i think goro akechi might be the most covert narcissist in fiction.

Antisocial Personality Disorder:

this one’s a little different than the others.

A. A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15 years, as indicated by three (3) or more of the following:

1a. Failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest: i’m no lawyer but i think murder is grounds for arrest.

2a. Deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure: this guy lies as easily as he breathes. inevitably he’s lying all the time, considering no one is bringing up the fact that he’s a magic assassin until november 20th.

3a. Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead: well, no, akechi is the type to overplan ahead. i do think he’s kind of impulsive, by virtue of the fact that he’s more emotional than logical.

4a. Irritability or aggressiveness: he hides both of these pretty well for the majority of the game but once third semester starts? irritability is off the charts. aggressiveness is usually confined to battle (despite many many many fan interpretations that would say otherwise)

5a. Reckless disregard for safety of self or others: murder and psychotic breakdowns that wreak havoc on public safety sure does suggest a disregard for others’ safety. choosing to become a hitman for someone you know is evil as a teenager also implies a certain disregard for self-safety.

6a. Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or financial obligations: nope.

7a. Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another: as i mentioned under NPD criterion 7–absolutely. emphasis on rationalizing (“My targets were all doing the same damn thing in this eat or be eaten world. All I did was remove their evil from society. How is that any different from the Phantom Thieves?”)

B. The individual is at least 18 years of age: well, yeah. he’s just barely 18 when you formally meet him on june 9th.

C. There is evidence of conduct disorder with onset before age 15 years: unfortunately akechi is not real, so we don’t have this information. i highly doubt it, though (specifically i doubt there would be evidence, if we believe he was already putting up the perfect front before he was famous).

D. The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during the course of schizophrenia or bipolar disorder: no (but uh. bipolar disorder is another topic for another day)

Criteria A fulfilled: 5/7. (Criterion 1, 2, 4, 5, 7). Criterion B and D are also fulfilled.

SO! conclusions:

the possibility of akechi having any one of these disorders is plausible

the real common enemy are the people who try and say akechi has no longstanding trauma/psychological issues. clearly, he’s got…something.

goro akechi is the cluster b final boss

[hoiststowline]

trailbreaker x reader

[a/n: this is entirely based off my lovely friend @drabbletron ‘s post !! this post has been in my head since I read it, the evidence is so so good. it’s canon to me! I’ve never written for trailbreaker before, so apologies in advance if this is ooc.]

A purple pen moves between your fingers, spinning in sloppy circles before raising to tap it against pursed lips. It was taking a while to think of a fitting answer to an increasingly difficult crossword puzzle, unsure. A hum of thought escapes you, then in frustration you uncross your legs and then recross them, fighting the pins and needles alerting that you've been sitting here for far too long.

It was rapidly approaching the point where the exasperation overpowered the boredom, too many blanks unable to assist in continuing. Just as you were gearing up to toss the puzzle aside and find something else to do, the door slides open in one fluid motion.

“There you are.” Trailbreaker mumbles, stepping across the threshold so the panel will close back over, secluding the two of you to his room. He attempting to be nonchalant but failing, as if he hadn't been looking for you for the better part of the past twenty minutes.

He supposes he should have considered here first, but assumed you had wandered elsewhere when he didn't return right away. Quickly, he made a mental note that more often than not, you always gravitated toward hanging out here, and he had no issues with it. If anything, he highly appreciated it, fond of your company any hour of the day.

Immediately, your attention moves from the paper to him, a familiar smile adorning your face. “Welcome back.”

Trailbreaker waves in greeting but traverses the room, moving to stand beside you at the desk, now looking over your shoulder. “What have you been up to?”

"I've been staring at this crossword puzzle for an hour," Fingers hold the paper upward slightly so as to allow him a better view, he takes advantage of your offer by placing a hand just beside you on the desk to lean forward. You tilt your head rearward as to catch his expression, as he observes your puzzle whilst hovering just behind you. "It was a little more tough than I anticipated."

"You have most of it filled out, no?" He hopes that his presence isn't too overbearing, though you haven't shied away just yet. If anything, you've moved back towards him since showing what you’ve decided to do with your free time. "It looks almost done."

"Almost. Wanna help?" Tipping your head back even more, you now peer up his way upside down, as he meets your gaze easily.

"I can try." Trailbreaker muses, a lopsided smile glued to his face-plate.

There's a few moments where a shuffle ensues, he tugs the desk chair free and drops down into it, yourself moving from up against the wall to scrabble closer. Now, your legs gently kick off the edge of the desk, as you hold the paper in your hands. After you both get comfortable, you begin reading clues, purple pen tucked behind your ear.

You work out a few together, some that just needed to be talked through aloud to uproot the answer. He would ask how many spaces and begin counting words audibly, trying to find the right one as small victories achieved effortlessly with his assistance. You enjoyed Trailbreaker's company and hoped he returned the sentiment, though you hardly noticed how he brings himself closer to you with each passing minute.

"This one I thought I had," You mumbled, pen bouncing against the edge of the sheet. "'Steinbeck, John' is the clue. I thought it was The Grapes of Wrath, but it doesn't fit."

"Well, that's because it starts with an E," He uses his knuckle to gesture to the previously filled in answer. "It's East of Eden,"

When you don't respond immediately, his gaze languidly moves off of the sheet to find you are staring up at him with vastly dumbfounded yet galvanized expression.

“I don’t get it,” He laughs as you remain stumped, mostly in awe. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“It’s not- I’m not surprised.” You insist, trying to convey such, as it was entirely the truth. You were’t surprised, not at all. If anyone on this ship were to know that answer, it’d more than likely be him, but it still left you in a state of admiration. “I’m impressed. But I guess I should have known better,"

Trailbreaker watches as you scribble in the answer, small fingers moving carefully across the page. Impressed? That impressed you? He’d have to read a lot more American Literature if that’s all it took, even though you had shown other signs of adoration well before this instance. Every time previously, he’d been blind to it, not believing you were extending beyond simple politeness the first few rounds of meeting.

"Known better?" He counters, not quite certain as to what you mean.

"You like to read." You reply simply, not even meeting his gaze as a rosy flush overtakes your cheeks, knowing full-well he's silently analyzing your mannerisms. "I catch you all the time doing it."

In turn, he laughs, palms placidly knocking against the desktop in amusement. ""M not being sneaky about it, you don't have to say you 'catch' me."

"You do it when I'm asleep." Eventually, you move to meet his gaze, somewhat reserved. "Or when you think that I am,"

"Now I'll have to triple check." Trailbreaker teases, but can't help himself as you softly laugh in reply, not wanting the conversation to end. “But yeah, I do. It keeps me focused.”

“It’s a good hobby. I’ll have to find some good recommendations for you,” You smile, fingers occupied once more as you fidget with the pen, a little more timid than before. “If you’d like?”

Immediately, he nods, enthusiastic. “Hell yeah. I’d love that,”

[stars-obsession-pit]

Can do stories off art? If can't come up with fix prompt? Dp x dc could use more art.

Only do crossovers?

Try this prompt sounds interesting https://www.tumblr.com/wyvernsgale/777684760738873344/an-au-of-this-fantastic-au?source=share

So, firstly, the thing written for that prompt by @wyvernsgale:

Look, on some level, Tim gets it.

Bruce doesn’t owe him his parenthood. He had no part in the cloning process. He didn’t ask to have another kid dumped on him so suddenly after he lost his own. Passing Tim off to the foster system wasn’t an inherently unreasonable decision.

The rejection still stung, but Tim had been able to understand it. Bruce just didn’t want to take in another kid.

Except that evidently Bruce did want more kids. He recruited multiple other teenagers into his vigilante brood.

So why had Bruce rejected him?

He couldn’t get the question out of his head. Was his existence really that disgusting a thing? Was he doomed to always be alone, to never find anyone who cared about him?

Those fears had gradually worn away after he found a new family in Amity Park with the Grays. Not completely gone, but quieted down enough that he could manage them.

And then Amity Park went to hell. Well, not literally (unless that incident with the Ghost King counted), but the situation was bad. First the ghosts, then the Guys in White taking control.

Phantom was trying his best to maintain things, but it wasn’t enough. A whole team of allies was gradually coming together—beginning with Tim’s own sister Valerie after he convinced her to give the ghost boy a chance—but they were still losing ground. They needed help, badly.

So they sent requests to the Justice League.

But nobody came.

After the first few dozen, the lines actually blacklisted them for spam. Tim then reached out to Bruce directly, sending messages begging for aid.

Yet still, nobody came.

Could Batman be blocking their requests? Did Bruce really hate him that much?

Whatever the reason was, they were on their own. They closed ranks, built up their own systems of managing the issues. The GIW’s advances slowed to a stalemate. With time, maybe they’d even fully triumph over the white-suited bastards.

And then Batman had the nerve to show up and offer help. Like he hadn’t left them to rot.

Tim Gray sneered at his genetic template, not that the other “hero” wouldn’t be able to see it through Tim’e mask.

“Oh, so now you’re here. Ignoring our time of need and only showing up once we’re strong enough to potentially actually win and pose a threat to your image. How typical.”

Then, actually answering the questions from the ask: (beyond the readmore)

Stories based on art, maybe! Depends on what the art is I guess. Making actual art myself… yeah no I’m not likely to be satisfied enough with my skill level to willingly post my drawings.

As for if i would do non-crossovers: not no, but it heavily depends.

Like, I don’t feel confident enough in my depth/breadth of DC knowledge to be able to build off of many of their topics in proper detail. For instance, I know jack shit about the actual canon Flash or Green Lantern stuff, so I couldn’t see being able to write anything with a focus on them without first going through and consuming some of their source material.

Non-crossover stuff that’s purely Danny Phantom is easier for me than DC in that regard - there’s far less source material to comb through and my brain for whatever reason accepts its fanon more readily than with DC.

For other fandoms beyond those two… don’t get your hopes up high. There are a few other series I’ve posted about on this blog and would potentially be willing to write more with, but it’s a far smaller sample than my DPxDC interactions.

[whateverisbeautiful]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I discovered your top 30 Richonne list a few days ago and I've been down the meta rabbit hole you've so wonderfully crafted this entire week so far. I've cried and smiled so much reading them. Each post is just so beautiful.

I was reading one of your Reveling in Richonne posts this morning for episode 10 x 04 where Michonne talked with Ezekiel about how much she still misses Rick and loves him so much and that she misses his walk and now I can't get over it. Now I'm thinking about all those times when she looked at Rick walking towards or away from her pre- and post-canon where she would be thinking the man I'm crushing on, then eventually the man I love is so sexy. Is there any chance you can do a post speculating those moments where they are both checking each out specifically regarding Michonne checking out Rick's walk?

Also I cant wait for you to do a Reveling in Richonne continuation based on TOWL 👀? So excited! Lastly I just need you to know that my Richonne withdrawals have been pretty bad now that TOWL has concluded. So discovering your blog and your metas have been giving me my whole entire life and I just want to say thank you and that I really appreciate all the thought and beauty you put into your posts. You're amazing!!!! 👏🏽 👏🏽 🤩 💖

Hi @rct85 ! I'm so encouraged by your message, thank you so much. 🥰 I love that this richonne reveling rabbit hole could help with the richonne withdrawal. I’m feeling it too and really miss seeing them on screen each week. 🥲 Thank goodness we were spoiled with years of richonne content that I’ve just been playing on a loop in my head. The second I'm finally able, I'm looking forward to going all out and writing about every golden moment from TOWL. The towl thoughts and observations are abundant lol.

And I really like that thought of highlighting the times that Michonne was looking at Rick and thinking this man I'm crushing on and later in love with is so sexy. I can definitely speculate on those moments and I've placed my extra self’s speculation right below. 😊⬇

I focused on Michonne specifically for this one because if I were to make a list of times Rick was looking at Michonne and thinking this woman I'm crushing on/in love with is so sexy it would be wildly long because it's every single moment he and Michonne are on screen together. Like truly from TWD 3.06 at the fence to the TOWL 1.06 finale Rick looks like he's thinking that. 😋 While Michonne can be a little more subtle than Slick Rick, she's still head over heels for her husband and I think I pinpointed some clear moments where she was noting how fine her man is and appreciating that walk. 😏 Thanks again for reading my posts and for this kind message! 💗

Moments Michonne Was Checking Out Her Man’s Walk/Thinking Rick Is Fine 😋

Exhibit A:

It started real early if you ask me. 😌 At this point our Michonne had been abandoned by her only friend, unsuccessfully gaslit by the governor, chased down and shot by Merle, and passed out killing walkers at the prison fence. She’d been put through a whole lot in mind and body…but her eyes clearly still work just fine as she seems to be taking in this handsome stranger in front of her.

And sis is an observant person so I wouldn’t at all be surprised if she had a conscious thought that this man from the prison is attractive, even here in their first exchange. Thinking about how she described Maggie and the Governor based on appearances in this ep, I’d bet that had Michonne had to describe Rick this early, some type of good-looking adjective would‘ve been used.

(*Also the footnote for all of these bits of evidence is that Rick is absolutely captivated by her in each of these moments too 💯)

Exhibit B:

Clear is where that Richonne attraction was loud and on display from both of them. We don’t see Rick walk away in this scene at the end of the ep but uh Michonne does. 😊 And of course she likes what she sees with that lingering look and smile she gives. And all that car key shuffling - it’s giving Rick is pretty eager but maybe she is too 🤭

Exhibit C & D:

I put these two moments side by side because I love how similar they are in the way Rick walks up to her and the way Michonne smiles at him. To think one scene is during their early s4 crush era and the other is during their s7 honeymoon ep, just goes to show these two have been smitten a long long time and always will be. In both moments I know Michonne loves seeing his walk just like Rick loves seeing her smile.

Exhibit E:

As she observes Rick here, I think Michonne has a lot of thoughts going through her head, which naturally are deeper than just checking him out. On a larger level, she’s realizing that Rick has unique qualities that she loves and respects and recognizes in her own self. She saw firsthand the way Rick walks the walk when it comes to protecting his family and she’s fallen in love with him. But I think an appreciation for his literal walk can be included in those thoughts during this scene as she starts to slowly become more cognizant that she sees Rick as a lot more than just a friend.

Exhibit F (Pt. 1 & Pt. 2):

I may have forgot if this was a list of Michonne’s thoughts or mine with exhibit f lol. But I’m just gonna venture to say that she and I shared the same appreciation for Rick’s walk in that barn. It’s Season 5 Rick - of course Michonne was feeling a type of way about him. And she might not have agreed with him punching Aaron but I know she wasn’t mad at that walk.

Exhibit G:

Seeing Rick’s clean-shaven face for the first time was Michonne’s most blatant display of attraction towards him pre-canon and she was definitely noting how fine he is. And from my posts on the scene, it’s no secret how much I love this moment and it’s no secret how much these two were into each other. I also just added a later s5 moment of Rick seeing Michonne in the constable windbreaker for the first time because it gives a similar energy. It’s cute how Rick and Michonne both have such obvious attraction and intrigued reactions to seeing each other in ways they haven’t seen each other before.

(That’s also why I thought it was so funny and doomed that their plan was to pretend like they don’t know each other at the CRM because Richonne hasn’t been able to mask their blazing attraction to each other since season 3)

Exhibit H:

This is such a sweet moment and I always adore seeing the slightly bashful way Michonne can’t help but stare at her man and smile after their first night together. And the way Rick can sense her looking at him and then smiles and reaches for her. It gives me life. This had to make this list because I’m pretty sure “the man I love is so sexy” is one of the direct quotes from Michonne’s mind in this scene.

Exhibit I:

Even when injured Rick’s walk is hot and Michonne knows it. 😋 The scene above and a couple more in this episode were clear signs of Michonne admiring her man inside and out. They were both so cute and couply and in love in this ep and I’ll never get over it.

In The Ones Who Live…

Each of these towl moments deserves dissertations so I’ll wait to elaborate because dissertations are coming later on. But I still had to include them on this list because they’re prime examples of Michonne loving Rick’s walk and/or loving how sexy her husband is - with the last one being the pinnacle 😍

Exhibit J:

Exhibit K:

Exhibit L:

Exhibit M:

Exhibit NOPQRSTUVWXY&Z:

[dreamyblanket]

Here is allllll the canon and non cannon thoughts I have about Caramel arrow put into a neat little post ^^

Also, thanky @speadrunner for prompting me this was high quality enrichment for me brain.

Allright!

To start we're only going on cannon stuff and there's actually alot to work with compared to the usual bg character im obsessed with! We have the main story and beast yeast. [last cookie standing too if you consider that cannon. I personally don't]

🔲 Canon 🔳

🤎She's very passionate.

We've seen how heated she gets when defending herself or just talking about other people she likes even if it gets her in trouble at times.

🤎 she's very loyal

Her loyalty to the dark cacao kingdom and dc himself is stated many times. I don't think I need to defend that ^^u but there's also her loyalty to her comrades! It's shown really well in the scene with the alter of the fallen where she takes time to light an incense for them before heading to the citadel.

🤎she works extremely hard

I would say she overworked herself but we've really only really seen her in stressful times tbh. [Other than in the cookie kingdom too]

Buuuutt! We also know that during her banishment she made her own arrows, gave her rations to the villages near by, traveled between them, was implied to be protecting them I'm pretty sure, oh! and was hunting for herself [and probably the villages] during her banishment which was around 4 weeks or so [based her saying "a moon has passed"] so she's no stranger to working hard! [Becoming first watcher also is a big achievement so add that to our list!]

🤎she's close to dc and knew dark choco

For her being close to dark cacao, it's implied in the first story but really comes out in beast yeast.

1] She can read his fighting style from the scene where they are lost in the fog

2] She quickly clocked that he was uneasy about something when his sword was acting up.

Not to mention the end scene where he held hers and crunchy chips hands [that was so sweet ;.;] he clearly cares about them just as much.

Now with being close to dark choco! They have dialoge in the kingdom where they talk about training together again and she says she knew him when he was a general in the citadel. So yea ^^

🤎oh! and obviously Boba is her favorite drink. It's literally in her ideal animation and often shown in official art of her.

Fun fact! Her name isn't actually Caramel arrow in other translations! It's brown sugar ^^ but I like Caramel arrow more tbh it fits her design better.

🔳less cannon but I have circumstantial evidence 🤓 🔲

🤎she uses work to avoid her emotions

I know the opening scene with her saying "no more tears" can absolutely be taken as "i have work to do, we can cry later" but the fact she starts listing all the stuff she has to do after helps my case.

She also tends to stay relatively calm in comparison to others during stressful times which can also be interpreted as her working hard to avoid her feelings.

🤎she's not someone who holds grudges often

Ok so, obviously affogato is a whole other story. I think you would also hold a grudge if that happend to you but she doesn't give any "on sight" energy to dark choco, infact she wanted to spend time with him again in their kingdom dialoge.

She hasn't really shown that much anger toward anyone other than affogato tbh.

🤎 her and crunchy chip have a sibling relationship

You can obviously say they just banter or "are friends" but as a person with siblings, those two are siblings.

🔲Head cannons 🔳

Cannon has left to go buy milk and wont be coming back ^^

🤎she likes to do wood carving ^^ on long nights it's something readily available to keep her busy

🤎she has alot of scars on her hands and legs just from exsploreing, fighting, and crunchy chip being a fucking menace.

🤎she's got a pretty stong stomach and started to eat deer crackers during her banishment I elaborate in the tags about this here ->[https://www.tumblr.com/dreamyblanket/778323584757137408/sorry-guys-wafer-on-the-brain-its-terminal-uu?source=share] [note, I dont recommend eating them yourself have a little nibble if your so inclined but you will probably give yourself a stomach ache if you do]

🤎she has a hard time accepting anything beyond familial love [yes, I am talking about this in relation to wafer]

🤎she's really good at hands on learning but as soon as a book is infront of her she checks out, please for the love of witches don't tell her to write anything other than a work report she will hate it.

🤎on that note! she's good at visual maths but not written math. Her skills are mostly practical. [Again, please don't giver her a math test she will cry.]

🤎has tried dog treats before, mostly because crunchy chip eats them [assume they all eat weird stuff ok?] She thought they were ok.

🤎has never left the dark cacao kingdom and has no desire to other than for work, it's her home she knows it inside and out.

🤎because she has deer crackers on her 24/7 the wild deer know her usual walking routes.

🤎doesn't like fizzy drinks or sour things.

🤎fucking loves sweet drinks, her order at Starbucks would make most people sick. [Whatever your thinking go sweeter.]

🤎also! big fan of cool rocks, one time she accidentally cracked a geode and picked up a book about rocks willingly for the first time in her life! She promptly put it down after learning about geodes but still impressive for her!

🤎her and affogato have never got along so during the time he was working his way into the advisory position she was his #1 opp

Yayyayayyyyy 🎊 🎊 🎊 you made it to the end!!

I hope this is readable, I went over it 3 times but if anything is weird please do tell me^^

Anywho, this is the end for now >:] I plan on updating this with her like, childhood and relationship with wafer soon but that's going to be a separate post because this is allready freakishly long and that's like 2x long ///^^u///

Uh, I like her a normal amount.

[cuddlytogas]

there was some Twitter madness recently where someone left a comment on someone's art to the effect of, "Ed shouldn't wear a dress, he's a man!" which I do disagree with on principle, but unfortunately, it brought out one of my least favourite trends in the fandom

so, naturally, I had to write a twitter essay about it. and I already largely argued this in a post here, but the thread is clearer and better structured, so I thought I'd cross-post for those not on the Hellsite (derogatory). edited for formatting/structure's sake, since I no longer have to keep to tweet lengths, and incorporating a couple of points other people brought up in the replies

so

I want to point out that the wedding cake toppers in OFMD s2 aren't evidence that Ed wants to wear dresses. Gender is fake, men can wear skirts, play with these dolls how you like, but it's not canon, and that scene especially Doesn't Mean That.

People cite it often: 'He put himself in a dress by painting the bride as himself! It's what he wants!' But that fundamentally misunderstands the scene, and the series' framing of weddings as a whole. I'd argue that Ed paints the figure not from desire, but from self-hatred; it's not what he wants, but what he thinks he should, and has failed to, be.

(Yes, I am slightly biased by my rampant anti-marriage opinions, but bear with me here, because it is relevant to the interpretation of the scene, and season two as a whole.)

The show is not subtle. It keeps telling us that the institution of marriage is a prison that suffocates everyone involved. Ed's parents' cycle of abuse is passed to their son in both the violence he witnesses then enacts on his father, and the self-repression his mother teaches, despite her good intentions ("It's not up to us, is it? It's up to God. ... We're just not those kind of people. We never will be."). Stede and Mary are both oppressed by their arranged marriage, with 1x04 blunty titled Discomfort in a Married State. The Barbados widows revel in their freedom ("We're alive. They're dead. Now is your time").

But even without this context, the particular wedding crashed in 2x01 is COMICALLY evil. The scene is introduced with this speech from the priest:

"The natural condition of humanity is base and vile. It is the obligation of people of standing ... to elevate the common human rabble through the sacred transaction of matrimony."

It's upper class, all-white, and religiously sanctioned. "Vile natural conditions" include queerness, sexual freedom, and family structures outside the cisheteropatriarchal capitalist unit. "The obligation of people of standing" invokes ideas like the white man's burden, innate class hierarchy, religious missions, and conversion therapy. Matrimony is presented as both "sacred" (endorsed by the ruling religious body), and a "transaction" (business performed to transfer property and people-as-property, regardless of their desires), a tool of the oppressive society that pirates escape and destroy. That is where the figurines come from.

When Ed, in a drunk, depressive spiral, paints himself onto the bride, he's not yearning for a pretty dress. He's sort of yearning for a wedding, but that's not framed as positive. What he's doing is projecting himself into an 'ideal' image of marriage because he believes that: a) that's what Stede (and everyone) wants; b) he can never live up to that ideal because he's unlovable and broken (brown, queer, lower-class, violent, abused, etc); c) that's why Stede left. He tries to make himself fit into the social ideal by painting himself onto the closest match - long-haired, partner to Stede/groom, but a demure, white woman, a frozen, porcelain miniature - because, if he could just shrink himself down and squeeze into that box, maybe Stede would love him and he'd live happily ever after. But he can't. So he won't.

The fantasy fails: Ed is morose, turns away from the figurines, then tips them into the sea, a lost cause. He knows he won't ever fulfil that bride's role, but he sees that as a failure in himself, not the role. It's not just that "Stede left, so Ed will never have a dream wedding and might as well die." Stede left when Ed was honest and vulnerable, "proving" what his trauma and depression tell him: there's one image of love (of personhood), and he'll never live up to it because he's fundamentally deficient. So he might as well die.

This hit me from my very first viewing. The scene is devastating, because Ed is wrong, and we know it! He doesn't need to change or reduce himself to fit an image and be accepted (as, eg, Izzy demanded). Stede knows and loves him exactly as he is; it's the main thread and theme of season two!

(@/everyonegetcake suggested that Ed's yearning in these scenes includes his broader desire for the vulnerability and safety Stede offered, literalised through unattainable "fine" things like the status of gentleman in s1, or the figurine's blue dress. I'd argue, though, that these scenes don't incorporate this beyond a general knowledge of Ed's character. Ed is always pining for both literal and emotional softness, but the significance of the figurines specifically, to both Ed and the audience, is poisoned by their origin and context: there is no positive fantasy in the bride figure, only Ed's perceived deficiency.

Further, assuming that a desire for vulnerability necessarily corresponds with an explicit desire for femininity, dresses, etc, kind of contradicts the major themes of the show. OFMD asserts that there is nothing wrong with men assuming femininity (through drag, self-care, nurturing, emotional vulnerability, etc), but also that many of these traits are, in fact, genderless, and should be available to men without affecting their perceived or actual masculinity. It thematically invokes the potential for cross-gender expression in Ed's desires, especially through the transgender echoes in his relieved disposal, then comfortable reincorporation, of the Blackbeard leathers/identity. It's a rich, valuable area of analysis and exploration. But it remains a suggestion, not a canon or on-screen trait.)

Importantly, the groom figure doesn't fit Stede, either. Not just in dress: it's stiff and formal, and marriage nearly killed him. He's shabbier now, yes, but also shedding his privilege and property, embracing his queerness, and trying to take responsibility for his community. In a s1 flashback, Stede hesitantly says, "I thought that, when I did marry, it could be for love," but he would never find love in marriage. Not just because he's gay, but because marriage in OFMD is an oppressive, transactional institution that precludes love altogether. All formal marriages in OFMD are loveless.

So, he becomes a pirate, where they reject society altogether and have matelotages instead. Lucius and Pete's "mateys" ceremony is shot and framed not like a wedding, but as an honest, personal bond, willingly conducted in community (in a circle; no presiding authority, procession, or transaction).

That is how Stede and Ed can find love, companionship, and happiness: by rejecting those figurines and their oppressive exchange of property, overseen by a church that enables colonialism and abuse. Ed is loved, and deserves happiness, as he is, no paint or projection required.

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY: draw Ed in dresses! Write him getting gender euphoria in skirts! Write trans/nb Ed, draw men being feminine! Gender is fake, the show invites exploration, that's what 'transformative works' means! But please, stop citing the cake toppers as evidence it's canon. Stop citing a scene where a depressed Māori man gets drunk and projects himself onto a rich, white, silent bride because he thinks he's innately unlovable and only people like her can find happiness, shortly before deciding to kill himself, as canon evidence it's what he wants.

(Also, please don't come in here with "lmao we're just having fun," I know, I get it. Unfortunately, I'm an academiapilled researchmaxxer, and some of youse need to remember that the word "canon" has meaning. NOW GO HAVE FUN PUTTING THAT MAN IN A PRETTY DRESS!! 💖💖)

[lokisprettygirl]

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Read chapter 9 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 10

Summary: Misspoken words cause a rift between you and Daemon.

Warning: 18+, smut, crude language, description of Statutory rape, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), mention of child molestation, mention of physical assault, the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking,

Daemon's first instinct was to close the door in her face and then gaslight her tomorrow into thinking that she must have been hallucinating due to the lack of sex in her life since she was a nympho but the look on her face made him believe that the trick won't really work on her.

“Oh my god what are you?” She asked, slightly scared and yet intrigued. As she invited herself in, Daemon growled, closing the door behind him before anyone else would see him.

“I told you,” Daemon responded with a deep, inhuman voice, which was slightly different from his usual tone. As a half dragon, he was not accustomed to hearing himself speak in this form.

“But how?“ she asked as she made her way towards him. She reached out to touch his feathery wings, which draped around his back and ends of which dragged across the ground “It's impossible.”

“Apparently it's not..look if you go around telling other people about this I won't hesitate to kill you” He looked at her with an intense stare, warning her to not tell anyone about what she had seen.

“Mmmhm really? Is that a warning?” she responded, sarcasm evident in her tone so he let out a low growl.

“It's not a warning, it's a threat” he snarled at her.

“Wow you just became ten times hotter than you already were” she giggled as she stepped closer to him to study his features.

Daemon's appearance was intimidating, to say the least. His eyes glowed a deep shade of blood red with vivid green irises. He was covered in scales that ran from the sides of face to the rest of his body in elegant patterns. His hair was long and reached his waist, and his sharp fingernails resembled knives. His ears, like those of an elf, were elongated and most of all his wings were a stunning display of silver feathers on top with dark brown and black underneath, as if they were a masterpiece of nature itself.

Daemon was a sight to behold. A creature from myth and legend that wasn't supposed to exist but somehow he did.

“Why aren't you scared?” He asked as he crossed his arms and fluffed his feathers, a few were knocked loose and fell softly to the ground. His eyes were fixed intently on her, waiting for her answer.

“I just want to fuck you right now” she mumbled as she eyed him from head to toe, looking at him with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He reminded her of those mythical creatures she used to read about as a child and she couldn't deny that she was hooked to his otherworldly side.

****

The next morning you were on the way to the supplies room when you bumped into the librarian Corlys.

“Hey y/n..good morning” He told you so you gave him a small smile. You noticed that he was holding a book in his hands.

“Good morning..nice to see that you do get out of the library” he chuckled as you said that but then the look on his face became serious.

“The feather you showed me that day..did you find the species it belonged to?” He asked you so you shook your head almost immediately. You had found something but you couldn't really tell him for two different reasons, first one being that you didn't want to hurt Daemon and secondly, you didn't want to get institutionalized.

“I found this book and I think you should read it” he said as he passed you the book he had in his hands.

You grabbed the book that seemed really old and heavy, it was dusty as well as if it had been sitting on the shelves and hadn't been touched by anyone in ages.

“Creatures amongst us” you read the title of the book and looked up at him, he seemed nervous and kind of terrified.

“Turn to page 35” he told you so obliged.

“History of Draco sapiens” your breath was taken away at the sight of the photo illustration on the opposite page. In the painting, a man with sharp ears and long hair was depicted, and he had a pair of large, shimmering wings on his back. The feathers he possessed bore a striking semblance to the ones you had shown Corlys at the library

“Looks familiar?” he asked you so you chuckled nervously and nodded .

“But it's just mythology isn't it.. folklore” you said to him so sighed.

As you turned the page there was a drawing of a baby. The infant's skin appeared to have a slight sheen, similar to scales. Its eyes appeared darker, and its ears looked pointed and slightly elongated. The drawing was both unsettling and intriguing.

“It's just weird to me, we have this man in the center who claims to be a dragon and-” Corlys spoke but you interrupted him.

“It can't be real.. Daemon is just a man”

“How do you know that?”

“I don't..I just .it can't be real” you lied to him so he sighed. Nonetheless, you returned the book to Corlys with a grateful smile and wished him a good day.

You knew you had to inform Daemon about the book and perhaps he'd be able to find some answers in there. As you wheeled your cart inside his room, it was a complete mess, hair and feathers all around, Daemon was on his bed, sleeping still, his ass naked and visible to you so you grabbed the duvet and covered him up. The commotion disturbed his sleep so he opened his eyes and rubbed it with his fingers to look at you.

“What happened here last night?” You asked him softly so he sighed as he remembered everything.

“Caroline came by, she saw me”

“What do you mean?” you asked, surprised by what he was telling you.

“She saw me as a dragon” your eyes widened so much so that he was afraid you'd blow them out of your sockets.

“What?”

“I was amidst the transformation and I heard the knock on the door and I thought it was you but it was her and she saw me” he sat up on the bed, staring ahead blankly as he relived the events of the previous night.

“Ummm what did umm what did she say ..how did she react?” You asked, your voice shaking with anticipation.

“She was.. in shock but..she wasn't scared” he answered nonchalantly.

“Mmmhm and then what happened?” You asked him, your heartbeat faster, he wasn't your boyfriend or that's what you thought, none of you had given a name to this thing between you two so you feared that he must have done something with her.

“Well we talked, she's not as vapid as she seems, kind of took me by surprise if I'm being honest” you gulped as he said that.

“Mmhm so what ..like.. you guys are friends now?” You asked as you crossed your arms, jealousy evident in your voice and he could smell it even though you had tried to keep your voice steady despite the anger and insecurity burning inside of you.

“I mean I had to make sure she won't go around speaking of this” he told you.

“You go around telling everyone who you are,” you retorted, frustration evident in your voice. You knew he wanted to keep his secret safe but Caroline getting to see him like that even before you had left a bad taste in your mouth.

“Yeah but they don't believe me, I'm crazy remember?”

“Well she's not exactly well” you said to him.

“Sex addiction is not the same as other mental ailments” you stifled the urge to roll your eyes as he suddenly got so defensive of her.

“Ohhhh sorry I offended your new friend” you walked back to your cart so he chuckled and sat up a little to lean his head against the headboard.

“You don't have to be jealous darling” he said, and you could feel the smugness dripping in his voice. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to show how hurt you were feeling.

“What makes you think I'd be jealous?”

“The way you're acting”

“I'm not acting any differently than I usually do..besides you're not my boyfriend or anything like that..we are not exclusive or even together for that matter” you answered and you could see the smirk disappearing from his face. Your words had come out more harshly than you had intended.

He was just messing with you and being playful, he had no idea how upset you were about this.

“Fine then..” he mumbled quietly.

“Yeah fine”

“Is this going to be a thing with you always, hmm? We sex each other up and the next morning you're going to pick a fight with me?” Daemon asked, and you could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Pick a fight?” You chuckled bitterly “I'm talking to you in a normal tone, I'm not the one to accidentally show my supposed dragon side to other people, you did and it seems to me that you're not even as worried about it as you should be” you finished your words, the term dragon came out as a sneer and that only upsetted him further.

“I'm not worried because I trust her” your eyes teared up as he said that.

“Just like that? In one night?”

“Yeah I can sense these things like I did with you..” he concluded, trying to diffuse the tension but it was futile.

“Uhhhuh? And you couldn't tell that it wasn't me outside your door?”

“My senses are weakened when I'm changing..trust me when I say this, i really wanted it to be you” he emphasized each and every word but in that moment you just felt blinded by the rage you were feeling.

“If you really wanted it you'd have shown me”

His eyes teared up as you said that but he smiled instead and shook his head in disbelief.

“Well at least she's yet to go behind my back and tell Viserys about my hair and feathers”

He said before he got up and stepped inside the bathroom, you flinched as he slammed the door so harshly that there were few cracks at the edges now.

You couldn't believe he had thrown that into your face, instead of apologizing to him and mending the situation you cleaned his room as quickly as you could. A part of you wanted to knock on the door and ask if he was alright but your ego held you back.

After stepping out of his room you knocked on Caroline's door and she asked you to get in so you entered inside, she was on her bed still, sleeping naked.

Well they certainly had things in common it seems.

“Good morning…what's your name?” She asked as she sat up, extremely confident in her nakedness so you sighed.

“Y/n” you answered curtly, not wanting to get into a conversation with her.

“Y/n..what's my neighbor like? I mean you clean his room everyday” she prodded, making you shrug your shoulders.

“I wouldn't know..my job is to clean and get out” She hummed as you answered her “Why did you ask?’ you questioned as curiosity got the best of you.

“I think i have a crush on him” You felt your heart sink as Caroline admitted

“Yeah, so do other women around your age here” you answered, trying to keep your voice snarky.

“Mmm but they haven't seen him the way i have” she looked in the distance as she said that, clearly reminiscing what she had seen last night.

“Like what?”

“Nevermind girlie..what about you?”

“What do you mean?” .

“Do you have a crush on him as well?” She smirked so you rolled your eyes.

“I don't get involved with patients”

You were hoping she'd spill the beans about him so you could go back to Daemon and throw it in his face but then you realized how bitchy it might have been. As much as you despised this development between him and Caroline, you didn't want his secret to be out in the open or have any harm come his way.

During lunchtime much to your displeasure you found Daemon in his usual spot in the corner but now Caroline was accompanying him. You always told him to not stare at you in the cafeteria so why did it hurt so bad when for once since he had arrived here he didn't have his eyes on you?. His attention was directed towards Caroline and whatever conversation they were having with each other.

At the end of the service as you walked towards his table he finally looked at you, you could feel his gaze from your peripheral vision and Caroline's eyes were stuck on him, and you knew that because you had your eyes on Caroline.

“Are you folks done with your meal?” You asked so she looked at you but didn't answer so you grabbed both of their plates and placed it on the tray.

“You know if you have no intention of eating you shouldn't take so much food just to waste it” you told her as you walked away so Daemon raised his brows, amusement visible on his face. Caroline couldn't help but gasp at the rude remark.

“Can you believe it?” She asked Daemon as you disappeared out of their sight.

“Oh I definitely can”

“She's just a glorified maid she should mind her words” his jaw clenched as Caroline said that.

“She's doing her job”

Caroline raised her brows as Daemon defended you.

A minute later, he watched as you left the cafeteria, a mix of emotions running through him. He wanted to follow after you, pull you aside and hold you in his arms to kiss you, he wanted to ask why you were behaving this way, but his ego got in the way.

He can't be the one to follow after you all the time.

You sat down in the garden with a sad looking sandwich in your hands but your appetite was gone, perhaps you'd find Daemon in your bedroom again this evening and maybe then you could tell him that you were indeed jealous that she got to see that part of him you have only heard of since he got here.

But when you finished your shift and arrived in your room, you were crushed to discover that Daemon wasn't there. Instead, the room was empty, and you felt a sense of despair wash over you. As you laid down in the bed, the weight of the day's events finally overwhelmed you, and you found yourself crying. Images of Daemon fucking Caroline and losing interest in you plagued your thoughts.

This is what you had been avoiding all your life, such intense attachment to a man, it's not that you hadn't tried to date before, though there was no sexual attraction on your behalf you did get attached to those men emotionally and it hurt when they eventually betrayed you for not giving them what they wanted from you so you stayed single and didn't get yourself involved with a man until Daemon arrived and made you feel things you never thought was possible for you. And now he had found someone else so of course he had no use of you anymore.

That night as Daemon heard a knock on his door, this time he knew it wasn't you even though he wanted it to be you so badly.

“You look normal today” Caroline said to him so he sighed.

“It doesn't happen every night” he answered her so she smirked and sat down on his bed with her legs crossed,

“Come sit here” she tapped the side of the bed so he crossed his arms.

“Quit seducing me” he answered with a snark dripping through his words.

“I'm not seducing you. Are you feeling seduced?” she asked as she bit on her lips and tilted her head.

“Aren't you prohibited from doing this nympho?”

Her smile dropped down as he said that and eyes teared up so she got up and walked past him but he grabbed her arm.

“Sorry, I was joking”

He told her so she turned around and suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Today was my first session with Dr. Vis..i don't like him” she said to him so he chuckled as he grabbed her forearms and pulled her away from him, a part of him felt as if he was betraying you somehow even though your thing with him wasn't really exclusive as you had so proudly stated this morning.

“Neither do i..What did he do?” he asked curiously. Ever since he had connected the dots between him and Tanya and had discovered that other thing, a part of him wondered what other skeletons his brother was hiding in his closet.

“I don't know..he was just being weird”

The next morning as you began your duty you were hoping to find Daemon's naked form in his bed but you found Caroline sleeping in his bed instead, though she was fully clothed you had a feeling that something must have gone down between them.

“Ooops ..don't tell anyone” she mumbled as she stretched her arms, you could hear the shower running and Daemon was in there so you went on to quickly do your job because you couldn't stand the thought of looking at him in the moment. You couldn't help but feel betrayed as if your time with him had meant nothing to him.

After a few minutes Caroline eventually got up and left for her room. As soon as she was gone Daemon came out of the bathroom, as your eyes met with him he smirked and all you wanted to do was to hit him with the broom you were holding to clean.

You didn't want an explanation, you didn't care whether they fucked each other or not, you were done with him and you were not going to entertain him any further or that's what you convinced yourself.

After drying his hair and putting on a trouser he sat down on the bed and you could feel his eyes on you,

“So that's it..we just don't talk anymore huh?” He asked you so you glared at him but didn't respond and that only pissed him off further

“Well it seems to me that you have found someone to sleep with now so there's no point talking to me anymore or coming into my room unannounced..you know all you men are just the same..all you want in life is to fuck as many women as you can and you're just a man whore” you spewed venomously, making his jaw clenched with anger. This thing was only escalating for the worse between you two.

“All the men, hmm? Says the thirty year old Virgin” he retorted.

“At Least I'm not a whore like you and your new girlfriend Caroline” he chuckled as you said that, your words laced with bitterness reminded him of that of a stubborn child.

“Look at you, so jealous that it's pathetic, makes me want to pity you”

“Awn a patient, pities me, what am I gonna do now?” your pitch went high as you faked the sad voice and he couldn't help but be amused.

“I'm not going to follow you around like a puppy, I have never been that man, I did it twice and now you think I'll just continue to run after you when you're treating me like this?” he asked you and it only frustrated you further.

“Well you did it because you were bored and wanted to fuck me but now that you have a whore in the next room to fuck around with there's no need of me” you mumbled angrily, your own words made you cringe, you never wanted to be this woman in life who blamed other women for snatching their men,

“Well my darling you're a virgin mary ..and with this attitude you're going to suffer the same fate as your mother..dying of a broken heart with no-one to protect you”

Your eyes teared up at his venomous words so you glared at him intensely but no words came out. You grabbed the equipment you were carrying and turned around to walk out of his room.

It was decided now, you were done with him. This was a mistake from the beginning.

His words had stung you deeply but what did he mean by broken heart? Your mum died of a heart attack and not a broken heart.

Later that afternoon you saw Daemon and Caroline chatting each other up against her door, even if they hadn't fucked last night, it was bound to happen sooner or later and you didn't want to get caught up in the middle of it.

As days passed, they turned into a week but the hurt of losing a friend stayed and only got stronger with time, as much as you wanted to make yourself believe that you didn't care you did, you missed him and it hurt a lot that he didn't miss you the same, that he didn't care at all that you were no longer in his life. It was as if you never really mattered to him, not one bit.

You couldn't stop working though so you had the misfortune of seeing his stupid face every morning, since your fight with him you hadn't found one single feather or any trace of hair in his room and it did raised your curiosity but you didn't ask him anything, you also refused to indulge him when he was trying to speak with you.

One afternoon you were called into Dr. Viserys's office so you took a deep breath before you knocked on his door and he asked you to get in.

“Sit down y/n” he told you so you sighed and sat down.

“I don't think I ever apologized for that night, I was just in a humongous amount of stress and lashed at you so forgive me for that rude behavior” he said to you so you hummed in response.

“It's not an issue, is that all sir?”

“No i actually wanted to discuss something regarding the patient in 394”

“Caroline Withherson?” You asked him so he smiled,

“I am giving you her responsibility, perhaps putting her next to Daemon was a mistake” he told you so you looked at him confused, even though you knew exactly what he was hinting at.

“I don't understand -”

“Just keep an eye on her, make sure she's following her rules” he told you so you nodded, there was a serious lack of staff at the facility so the burden often fell on the shoulders of the custodians.

As you stepped out of his office you saw Daemon at the other end of the corridor, as his eyes met with yours you quickly looked away but his gaze was set on you. How stubborn could one woman be, he thought? His ego seemed smaller as compared to yours..

He knew you weren't the only one in the wrong here, he was equally responsible for this tiff but you weren't even giving him a chance to speak, in the last two weeks he had tried to rile you up at every chance he got but you weren't giving him anything in return, and the silent treatment was starting to piss him off.

The next morning he was on the bed reading when you got inside his room and just like every day in the past two weeks, he didn't hear a word from you, however he did notice a mark on your hand so he got off the bed and grabbed your arm to inspect.

“What do you think you're doing?” You asked sternly so he glared at you, so that's what he had to do to make you speak, grab you without your consent?

“Who did this?” He asked you so you pulled your hand away from him.

“The burner did..I was making tea..it was an accident..why do you care anyways”

You mumbled as you picked up the dustpan from the cart to collect the filth on the ground.

“Just because you have stopped caring about me that doesn't mean i feel that way too” he said to you so you looked at him with a mixture of surprise and anger.

“Mmmhmmm is that why you're sleeping with your neighbor? To nurse your wounds?”

“She fell asleep while we were talking ..we didn't fuck each other”

“Whatever I don't care Daemon-”

“Oh that I can see”

Your eyes teared up as he raised his voice so he stepped closer to you and grabbed your shoulders to pull you into his chest.

“Why can't you just talk to me like a normal person? Why is it hard for you to just talk?” he asked you softly, his tone now gentler than ever.

“Talk about what? You tell me one day that I'm all you have and then you find a new girl to spend time with and all of a sudden you don't want to make up with me..you just ignored me-”

“Ignored you? All you had to do was just admit that you felt jealous and I'd have done anything to show you why you didn't need to feel that way, you have not even looked at me in past two weeks-”

“Because it hurts to look at you and to watch you replace me so easily-”

“God you're stupid y/n .. so fucking stupid” he said as he stepped away from you to run his fingers through his hair frustratingly.

“Yes I'm stupid enough to trust a man like you-” another jab of yours almost made him want to kiss you just so you'd quit insulting him.

“Man like me? What does that even mean hmm?”

“I don't like you Daemon..you frustrate me..you make me want to say these awful things to you that i have never said in my life, you anger me so much and it's driving me crazy” Your eyes welled up and voice choked on tears as you berated him further but perhaps that's what you both needed in that moment.

“Oh you think you're any better? You're the most insufferable woman I have ever known in my life, you're fucking sick in head you know that? Not any better than these people around here, at least they know they got a problem..you on the other hand? You are walking around freely with your mental instability” he lashed out at you as well as if he was speaking everything he had felt towards you in the past two weeks.

“At Least I'm not a pretentious animal --”

“Pretense huh…I am pretentious?” He growled as he stepped closer to you until there was no space left between your bodies, the flash of red clouded his eyes for a moment, his breath was hot on your face. Dropping the dustpan on the floor you wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you as close as humanly possible, it was either this or another cruel words out of your mouth, words that you didn't even believe yourself.

“We are not good for each other” your eyes welled up as you spoke between the kiss and he wasn't any different, his emotions were on all time high at the moment, he had never felt such passion for another soul in his life before, no other woman had made him feel so frustrated yet so connected, “I'm saying things to you I don't even mean-”

“So am i..why can't you just talk to me calmly?” he asked as he brushed your hair with his fingers before he kissed you again.

“Because I'm insecure.. and I don't want to get hurt” you mumbled against his mouth.

“I don't want to hurt you ..”

“But you do”

“You hurt me as well, I ask you to not ignore me and you take it as a challenge”

“I know I do, I don't know how we are supposed to do this Daemon. Okay? I admit I was jealous that she saw you like that, I felt hurt that she got to see you and i didn't”

“I didn't do it on purpose -”

“I just can't..trust anything or anyone anymore, people lie and cheat and hurt-” your voice cracked with the whirlpool of emotions you were feeling.

“Nothing happened i swear darling-”

“You slept with her in the same bed-”

“That meant nothing.. nothing happened, i didn't even touch her” he said to you and as much as you didn't want to admit it had brought you a huge relief.

“Why not? She's gorgeous and she's your type” you asked meekly so he furrowed his brows in confusion.

“How do you even know what my type is?” he asked you so you changed the conversation.

“Did you miss me?” you asked him softly as you caressed his nape, the sultry little touch aroused him instantly.

“I haven't been able to shift since we stopped interacting”

“Why not?”

“I don't know-”

“I have missed you-”

“Then stop arguing with me so nonsensically” his voice was deep and husky as he spoke.

“You say mean things when you're angry” you told him, at the same realizing what a hypocrite you were.

“And you spew flowers?”

“I can be irrational at times..I'm a woman”

“And here comes the misogyny”

“I'm on duty right now..I can't do this-” you mumbled as you pulled away from him, both of your breaths were heavy due to the intense conversation and the kiss that had followed.

“What do you want, hmm?” he asked you so you thought about it for a moment.

“Apologise” you then answered shamelessly.

“I will” he paused for a moment before he spoke again “You are going initiate it though”

“You're so egoistic”

“And you're a pot..you see that?”

You walked closer to him and placed your head down on his chest to hug him tightly as he said that.

“Where should I start? I have said so many things”

“Let's start from the beginning then?”

“I'm sorry if I made you feel used” you apologized as softly as you could.

“I'm sorry I spoke ill of your mother , that was disrespectful and I deserved your anger for that comment” your eyes teared up again as he reminded you of that.

“Why did you say that?”

Your eyes met with his as you looked up so he thought about it for a moment and decided to not speak of that matter until he had complete information.

“I was angry”

“I don't want to fight with you daemon -” the corner of his mouth curved slightly into a small smile as you said that.

“Then what do you want?” he asked, gently caressing your lower lips with his thumb which made you feel distracted again.

“I want you to be nice to me like you're with Caroline” you mumbled.

“I fight with you because I care too much to act indifferent, you don't want me to treat you the way I treat her, trust me” He mumbled as he leaned down to peck your lips “Besides if I was any nicer to you you'd fall in love with me”

You couldn't help but smile as he said that.

“As if”

You answered smugly. Ohhh but you would you thought, since the day you saw him first a part of you knew he'd not be another passing fancy in your life, it was a feeling you had always longed for, someone you could connect with on a deeper level, and the connection you felt with him was undeniable, you just hoped he was feeling it as well.

As you stepped out of his room you realized that the constant lingering ache you had felt in the past two weeks had suddenly vanished. It was replaced by hope and that feeling of a sweet tickling sensation in your heart that you couldn't really describe in a word.

Later that evening you did find him in your room as you had hoped.

“You know the shirt is supposed to be worn?” you said to him as you found him sitting at the edge of your bed holding a dark brown shirt between his palms.

“I brought it for you, to put it on after the shower” he mumbled softly so you smiled.

“Don't tell me what to do” you said as you walked towards him so he stood up immediately and cupped your cheeks, he then craned your neck up and kissed you deeply, his tongue slipped in slowly and you couldn't deny how you had missed this feeling. He kissed you like he had never kissed you before. A kiss that could never be replicated, a kiss that will forever live on in your memory, it was full of longing desire and needy.

It was raw and unbridled, yet tender and intimate.

“I'm sorry i called you a man whore” you mumbled as he pulled away slightly to breathe.

“Mmmm I'm sorry I told you that you'd die alone even though I'd protect you whether you'd want me to or not” he responded.

“Mmmm okay “ you mumbled as you stepped away from him to go shower, when you came out you had his shirt on with shorts underneath as you joined him in the bed.

Without a word he climbed on top of you and caressed your scalp with his fingers as he leaned down to kiss you softly, your arms curled around his neck as you pulled him closer to you, his hair tickling your cheeks and neck so you grabbed them to push it behind his shoulder.

“You came through my window and your hair is long again, did you shift?” you questioned him softly.

“Mmhm”

“Mmmm I'm sorry i called you an animal”

“I'm an animal..it was the term pretentious that bothered me”

“I'm sorry i called you pretentious then” he chuckled as you said that but then he remembered he had something to apologize for.

“I'm sorry i called you mentally unstable”

“I kind of am-”

“I don't mind that” you giggled as he said that and you couldn't help but wonder why it was so easy to get back to him even after such a rift.

“You should go before Viserys loses his mind again”

“I didn't get you in my shirt so you could sleep alone tonight”

“We shouldn't do naughty things, they are such a curse..it's going to make us fight the next day” his brows raised at the quirky statement.

“How superstitious of you..but we don't have to if you don't want to”

But that was the problem, you really wanted to be naughty with him and have him touch you intimately.

“I'm sorry i called you a whore..you're not a whore” you mumbled softly so he leaned down to kiss you again. He couldn't stop kissing you when he had thought of your lips on him every night for the past two weeks.

“I'm sorry i called you a Virgin Mary, even though it's true”

You slapped on his cheek lightly as he joked but his eyes flickered at the gesture, he grabbed your hand with one hand and your chin with the other to kiss you passionately.

He didn't know why as he had always been non-confrontational before in life, especially with the women he had been with, he didn't take shit from anyone until you came along, a part of him rejoiced in these moments of arguments and then falling back to each other as if nothing had happened. He knew it wasn't healthy to argue this way but he'd rather argue with you than lose you to complete indifference as if you were nothing but a stranger to him.

***

Later that night Viserys slumped into his office chair, tired and burdened from the long day he had. He really thought that bringing Daemon here and placing him on medication would suppress this madness he was born with but he was completely wrong. Daemon was only getting worse everyday and he could feel his brother slipping away and gaining agency.

Viserys reached under the table and pulled out a key, which he used to open the drawer in his desk. Inside was a diary that he had kept safely hidden from Daemon all their lives, along with pictures that he had taken back on the day Daemon was born. In the picture, their mother held Daemon in her arms, their father stood by their side, and Viserys had managed to capture the moment as they all smiled for the camera.

His eyes teared up with a mixture of anger and jealousy, even after years he felt the same feelings he had on the night Daemon was born. He traced the pictures, remembering the day their mother had first held Daemon in her arms, the day that had changed the course of his life forever as he became the child that was nothing but ordinary.

“Abomination” he mumbled as he flipped through the pictures.

In the last photo, Daemon laid in his crib, smiling up at their mother, his eyes a vibrant blood red with elongated ears and scales covering his small body.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

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[valeriefauxnom]

Things You May Or May Not Know And/Or Remember About the Royal Family

Exactly what it says on the tin, here's at least 3 things for each family member that you may not know!

Leonidas:

-I'll use my freebie here to cheat and pull out the 'he has a pet panther that has given jewlery and metal to wear' because I want to spread this niche detail about. Evidence for that one you can find in this link here. But yes, by all accounts Leonidas seemed to have a pet panther, and no he does not talk about it once. It also explains his sudden competence to know that cats shouldn't have grape juice in the comics when correcting Emile, because he has one... a big one, mind you, but he's got a cat!

-His curry obsession in the comics is implied to have been a thing passed on and or learned from Aurelius, which is perhaps the only thing Leonidas seems to like about his father!

-Leonidas is 99% of the time Very Serious in his wording of things, but I gotta hand it to this line for being probably the single silliest thing he's said in canon entirely on his own volition (ie, not being heavily coached by Mym/Siren):

-Mars is not his first dragon

-Is actually the first to exit the main campaign at ch.16, though he does a good job of acting as Euden's secretary afterwards by directing Ilia to him at the Sacred Tree and requesting Emile's army at Grams

-Has either bought or built a completely separate manor in the capital despite being the crown prince and thus likely king

-Declares Valkaheim the new capital of a re-established Alberia (not to be confused with New Alberia) mid-canon, in effect making himself King of Alberia

Phares:

-At some point in canon, Phares crept back to Clave Loy'elune, snuck back in the cave where Everything Went Down, and stealthily did a little cutting of Alberius/Chthonius' corpse

-Phares is not actually the first sibling to dive into alchemy, even if he ultimately does end up the most learned in it - Leonidas actually was the first, and it's more implied Phares' initial interest was out of the slight rivalry they have

-Per the 'meet the cast' thing they did at the end of the lifespan, Phares is skilled at reading ancient languages

-Is the direct reason for guns manacasters re-emerging in the modern day, or at the very least the reason they emerged as early as they did. How?

He's apparently also schooled enough in archeology to then be able to teach Chelle... which then gave her the knowledge and ability to start finding manacasters and restoring them:

Chelle:

-Has sent her betrothed (Elua) to be executed

-When younger, used to harass Leonidas and Phares trying to chill out together, which they did not like

-Was devoted to the idea of getting Cat Sith as her dragon long before she ever could pact

-In one wyrmprint, suggests she still dreams of ascending Alberia's throne, which raises Questions of how she intends to do so since she seems to get along very well with her elder brothers and vice-versa:

-Liiiiittle bit shaky here since it's based on my observation/memory and not a concrete fact as the others, but if I'm right, Chelle is the only member of the currently-pacted family who does not shapeshift. Phares is not pacted for at least a good bulk of canon, Leo does in ch.12, Valyx 6, Euden... everywhere, Zethia and Nedrick in tree drama... The closest she gets is in her gala story, but decided against it.

Valyx:

-Valyx may seemingly need glasses, as every time he dons them in canon and in the comics, they seem to be of a more functional variety than Chelle's clearly decorative one. They also seem pretty consistent in design.

-His battle standard isn't 'just' a bear - it's a 'greatbear', which I'm guessing is just a Really Big Bear

-His journey to pact with Thor was seemingly fraught - not many wanted to come, and of those that did, many got smote by Thor and died

-Prior to Euden, his forces were undefeated

-Has nearly executed Malora for espionage (after she ironically convinced him into doing so over lifelong imprisonment after correctly pointing out she'd just seduce her way out of a prison cell)

-Became the military leader of, essentially, Grastea's NATO, at the end of canon before he and the most of the siblings got smote in ch.25

Beren:

-Has said 'okie-dokie'

-Canon's variety of him is the only one to get as far as he has in life in the entire span of worlds:

-This isn't hidden knowledge at all, per se, but I never will get over the fact he chooses his alias to be 'Ed'. Like. Ed????

-Beren's problems with black mana began at birth; Leonidas wanted to kill him but by the time he gained the authority to do so had somehow grown 'too strong' for him to manage that.

-Somewhat surprisingly per the character intro, likes 'quiet places', which is both understandable as the only thing he's known and shocking, since I might have otherwise thought he wouldn't for the reminder of his previous imprisonment

-Has brass knuckles dangling down from his straitjacket (and is not wearing pants), which makes me dream of a playable Beren that's not a spellcaster and instead just beats people up with fisticuffs

Emile:

-Explicitly had the hots for humanoid Mercury, making him one of the three royal family members that even so much as hinted towards any romantic inclination

-His Gala portrait has several hidden details, including a ghost Aurelius hiding/watching over him and the dome above him depicting his regular form leading soldiers

-Is so insensitive to spiritual matters that he cannot perceive ghosts in the slightest!

-You might have noted the lack of mention of him in my shapeshift spiel.... and that's because he technically did shapeshift once, but it wasn't when he was pacted. Instead, he did it from tapping into Euden's pacts with his and Mercury's permission! So yeah, it's... complicated.

-His Gala form gains a single earring suspiciously similar to Leonidas', which makes me personally think he was trying to copy Leonidas' overall presence/grandeur, but chickened out at the pain. Funnily enough, he and Leonidas are the only ones in the fam consistently depicted with earring(s) in unit art, as Chelle only rarely features them in other art! ...Zethia may technically seem to be wearing them in 'Endless Waltz', but this event is, well, dubiously canon, as there never really was a time in which she could party with Luca and then become Empress (even if Emile playing ocarina will never get old).

Euden:

-Is so terrible at using knives in the kitchen that Cleo seems seriously concerned he's about to faint from blood loss and orders him to lie down

-Did ask Leonidas pre-canon where the heck Beren was, only for Leonidas to tell him that he went 'missing' despite knowing full well the truth

-Hobbies include writing and seemingly playing violin, even though that latter bit was sidelined for a while as Aurelius instead forced him to learn piano

-His royal fam t-shirt that's part of the running joke in the comics is actually pink and red, the one time we see it in color:

(By the way, Leonidas' is orange-red, Emile's is green, and we never see the colors for Phares' but I'd guess blue since 2/3 are tied to their usual color schemes/theme)

-Also a silly comic fact that he has a little wallet with his face on it that he sometimes gives to people, and his seal also bears his face (as WillofWinnie recreated the latter here)

-Was so bad at swordplay that even after years of practice, complete novices could beat him

-Likes taking walks with the doggy in the woods when he's feeling bad

Zethia:

-Has her own bank of quotes even as an NPC adventurer for her brief stint in ch.1 as a 'party member', one of which is 'I admit, every now and then, I wonder how *I* would look in a suit of armor...'

-She also notes that she's not 'wholly unfamiliar' with the sword due to watching Euden practice so much

-Has said the word 'damn' before

-Literally almost beat up Morsayati with just her and Zena in ch.5, impressively

-Likes wildlife/nature and making flower crowns

-In a mix of other lore and her, birds are a holy symbol in the Ilian faith, which might explain why she's often depicted with them and why comic!Zethia feels the need so often to help chicks back to their nest

-If I can include Zena, Aurelius actually was alive in her world for a while, and was the reason she was able to cross into all the others she did

-Kinda personal, kinda lore, but Zethia did kinda break her vows as Auspex when pacting with Bahamut, as a pact is something that puts her in the line of succession when she forswore ascending, in a thing I wish was addressed.

Also, she'd technically be higher than Euden in the line of succession to the Alberian throne because they seem to operate on a 'pact+age' determinate of order, and she is a month or two older.

Nedrick:

-With Zethia, seems to have a line of scales running down part his leg after formally pacting with Bahamut

-Relatedly, his Gala unit still has the faint hints of the Alberian dragon symbol oft used to tie characters to the land and the royal fam on its base

-Nedrick seldom speaks or even thinks of Euden's name, which, while that very well might be deliberate in the sense of him not wanting to acknowledge Euden's replacement of him down to the name (a thing he seems also dedicated to pretending he doesn't care about his 'abandonment'), but he does make an exception the moment he realizes with Zethia that Euden is going to die:

-Likes quiet forests, which theoretically means he could jive with Zethia and Beren rather well in this regard

-Really doesn't seem to like people not talking to him if he wants an answer:

-Seldom eats or sleeps and instead supplements this lacking self-care by just absorbing mana around him

So, yeah, there's some of the quirks and little moments of the fam! All of the plain statements of fact come from moments in Dragalia instead of them just being individual headcanon, which I'd be happy to point out to any who are curious where they come from!

[siilvan]

bloodsport – III

prologue | part one | part two | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a successful escape, you try to convince yourself that the prison and makarov are behind you. things just never seem to go to plan, though.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: not proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, poorly written combat, allusions to trauma and stress, mentions of typical murderous behavior from makarov (∶__∶), OG mak's backstory bc we don't know shit about the reboot lol

word count: 5.9k

note: my birthday's on the 3rd, so pls take this as a gift from me to you :) the support on this series has also been insane 😭 you guys are so sweet!! <33

also big shoutout to @roosterr bc i completely copied the way she writes texts in fics LMAO i hope it's okay with you bestie ilysm

"anyone else would be dead already."

what the hell does that mean?

you're lying on your back, absently staring up at the ceiling, those words replaying in your mind over and over again. yet another week has passed since "the incident," as the guards in the corridor so kindly put it.

clearly makarov had given his men a new order after you killed the younger doctor. not only did they avoid touching you, but they hardly even looked in your direction outside of required monitoring. doctor tarkovsky was singlehandedly providing your medical care, as well. the next time you saw the doctor - the morning after the incident - proved to be an interesting experience. while treating you, he made a comment about "the commander seeming angry."

you add it to your ever-growing list of questions.

blaring alarms interrupt your somewhat peaceful pondering. you shoot up, instinctively reaching for your belt to grab your gun, only to be reminded that you're unarmed. the guards in the hall are shouting at each other, appearing just as surprised as you are.

carefully, you rise from the bed and cross the room, trying to listen to what they're saying. if there was one benefit to your captivity, it was the small bit of russian that you've picked up on. amongst the frantic chatter, you can make out a few words:

attack. small team. breached. combat. prisoner.

your chest tightens as you step back from the door. the base is under attack, and whomever is leading the charge is enough of a threat to raise the alarms. a small team could never hope to contend with an entire ultranationalist stronghold, though. there's only one man, one team, that could succeed despite being so heavily outnumbered.

the one-four-one.

it has to be them. they're the only ones bold enough to stage an attack, and the only ones capable of pulling it off.

even if it's someone else, they're your ally now, and your only hope of making it out of here alive.

you can see the guards scrambling outside your cell, frantically following whatever orders were being barked at them through their radios. for now, they seem to disregard your presence in favor of organizing their forces to combat the threat, but you know it won't last. contrary to the size of the prison, you're the only captive being held here; any mention of "prisoner" is referring to you.

the area quiets down as most of the men rush to aid their fellow soldiers, leaving only the alarm to keep you company. you mentally curse as you consider your very limited options. without a set of keys to escape this cell, you're stuck here.

a purposeful set of footsteps rapidly approaching makes the decision for you. quickly, you dive just out of sight of the door, pressing your back to the wall. the person stops just outside and grumbles to himself as you hear the sound of keys jingling in the lock. the iron door swings open, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet as he stares into the empty space, confusion evident in the grunt that leaves him.

a second passes before he steps into the room, scanning the far side of it. your eyes fall to the knife on his belt, easily removable if you're fast enough, and you dive for it before he can turn around.

you tear the blade from its sheath and swiftly plunge it into the side of his neck, ripping a strangled cry from the soldier as he reacts too slowly to save himself. you pull him to the ground and lay his body flat, releasing a sharp breath once you confirm the kill. temporary relief floods your system, hastening your movements as you collect as much of his gear as you can.

immediately after you secure the last strap of the armor vest, you hear voices calling out from somewhere close by. searching for the guy you just killed, you assume. with one final gear check, you move to the same spot against the wall and wait for the group to get closer.

the first of the bunch steps into the room and freezes at the sight of the other man, and you take the opportunity to drop him with the rifle you had collected. the remaining members, two or three men, are quick to respond once the gunshots ring out. you peek around the corner as they rush forward with their guns drawn, electing to start the gunfight yourself.

you manage to shoot one down before the others notice you. a bullet whizzes past your head as you aim down the barrel and shoot another, forcing you to duck back into cover.

"you're cornered. come out and i'll let you live." the final soldier says, frustration lacing his command. you sit still, lying in wait until his impatience overpowers his better judgement. a tense silence fills the air between you, only broken by the soldier groaning and coming to you instead.

he circles the corner, weapon at the ready, but scans the room in too wide an arc. you finish him off and peek out into the hall again, finding it completely vacant.

the radios on the soldiers bodies suddenly come to life, and you hear a familiar voice on the other end. you pick one of them up and attempt to decipher the question to no avail. however, there is one word that you understand. prisoner.

"you should've sent a bigger group," you speak into the radio, feeling your lips twitch into a smile at the way makarov stops short.

he merely chuckles, though, and the smile drops. "you continue to impress me, lieutenant. let's see if you can escape." he replies, relaxed as ever. he switches channels, and the radio goes silent.

you travel down the path you took the first day, when makarov was accompanying you. there's little resistance beyond a few stragglers that you dispatch with ease. most of the forces are focused on the invaders, too busy to properly deal with you as you attack from behind. the number of enemies ahead of you increases the further you go - a sign that you're heading in the right direction.

eventually, you reach an exterior door and push it open.

to say the situation is chaotic would be an understatement. soldiers are hurrying across fields, arming themselves and their allies, shouting out various commands and information. you duck low and stick to the shadows, doing your best to avoid a firefight now that the enemy solidly has the advantage.

you make some distance and perk up at the sounds of gunfire. you've stumbled across the main battle. with a renewed sense of hope to push you forward, you go towards it, ending up crouched next to an APC as you search through the chaos for any friendly faces.

one of the nearby vehicles erupts into flames moments later, catching you off-guard and stealing your attention from the fight. scrambling to your feet, you stiffen as something smooth and cold is pressed against the back of your skull. the barrel of a gun. you raise your hands in surrender and pray that the person holding the weapon can be reasoned with.

"wait," a deep voice, husky and all too familiar, speaks from behind you. "petra? 's that you?" the man, captain price, lowers his gun, allowing you to spin around and look at him.

you're almost ready to shed tears upon seeing his face, equal parts concern and relief etched into his hard expression. he grabs ahold of your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as you nod, silently answering his question. a dark figure emerges from behind one of the vehicles at price's back and catches your eye.

the stark white skull mask instantly gives away his identity: ghost. he stops at your side, eyes crinkling behind the mask, and you can tell that he's giving you a happy look.

your eyes leave the pair and scan the area, hunting for the last two members of the team. there's no movement aside from the fighting and chaos in the distance. your gaze flits back to price as a lump begins to form in your throat and every scenario that you've cooked up during your captivity floods into your mind.

"where's soap and gaz?" you ask, voice sounding meek compared to the way you spoke earlier. price, clearly sensing the deeper meaning behind your words, pats your shoulder in a comforting gesture before withdrawing his hand.

"they're here, no need to worry," he starts, motioning for you to follow him. "the sergeants are protecting our backsides, making sure the chopper has a clear path. we're gonna meet 'em at the southside of the prison and exfil from there."

you fall in line with the two, muscle memory all but taking over as you repeat your prior strategy; keep to the shadows and only engage the enemy if absolutely necessary. the location that price described isn't terribly far and shouldn't be difficult to reach, so long as you don't get caught up in too many fights.

ghost contacts the sergeants as you move, updating them on your position. you learn through the conversation that the team came for you, and only you - makarov isn't a concern of theirs, even once you inform price of his presence. we'll slot the bastard once you're back on your feet, he says.

"we're gettin' close, it's just up here." ghost mutters lowly. you tighten your grip on your gun, anticipation steadily building inside of you the closer you get to the rendezvous point. you're this close to freedom, this close to putting this hellish place in the past and reuniting with your team. al-mazrah, the missile, your capture, makarov– all of them would sequester themselves to nothing more than memories.

a black hawk flies overhead before touching down at the designated spot. one of the back doors swing open just as it lands, revealing gaz's smiling face. he steps aside to allow the three of you to board, giving you an eager side-hug as you shuffle past him.

"petra, happy to see you in one piece!" soap's exclamation startles you as much as it overjoys you to hear, and you're suddenly swept up into a bone-crushing hug by the scotsman upon passing gaz.

"soap–! johnny, you're squeezing me too hard–!" you gasp out, still attempting to hug the man back despite your bones being turned to mush from the pressure. he releases you almost as quickly as he scooped you up and mutters an apology. said apology barely registers in your head due to the sight he greets you with, though.

there's a nasty scar over his left eye, jagged and obviously still in the process of healing. soap hardly seems to care about it, instead grinning at you like you were revived from the dead. you tap the area below your own eye to signal to him, brows furrowing in confusion. his hand mirrors your action and his face lights up, an audible "oh" falling from his lips.

"got it in al-mazrah," he says, waving off your worried look. "makes me look pretty cool, right?" he adds with a glance around the cabin, earning an affirmative hum from price and a shrug from ghost.

gaz snorts, slumping down on one of the seats and giving him a thumbs-up. "looks wicked, mate."

you collapse into another seat with a breezy laugh. "i'm just thankful that you're alive, all of you. i was starting to doubt whether you'd come." you confess, sharing a somber look with the rest of them.

ghost breaks the mood with a shake of his head. "'course we came. we're a team, no man left behind." he keeps his gaze locked on you as he talks, bringing an appreciative smile to your lips. your attention shifts to the window at your side, watching the stronghold fade away as the helicopter lifts off the ground and departs. you refuse to tear your eyes away until it disappears over the horizon, allowing you to take a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

⋆⋆⋆

upon arriving in safe territory, you're almost instantly pulled into a brief, but strong hug by laswell, who was waiting on the airstrip as the team landed. you're ushered into the base's medical wing by her and price for a proper checkup, which, thankfully, goes by swiftly. you've had enough of doctors and medicine to last you a lifetime.

"you're sending me home?" you ask, practically jumping up from the examination table you were sitting on. your gaze darts back and forth between price and laswell, irritation boiling under your skin as they try to placate you.

"y'need to rest, petra. you've just been through two weeks of hell." price responds, putting his hand on your shoulder and urging you to sit back down. you shrug it off and shake your head.

"captain, i was given a clean bill of health!" you argue while waving your arms in front of yourself. your wounds from the missile had mostly healed, reduced to minor marks on your skin and a raised scar on your side that was gradually fading. "i just want to get back in the field– i've been out of commission for weeks!"

laswell steps toward you, meeting your gaze with a sympathetic look. "it's protocol, lieutenant. you may be fine enough to work for now, but we can't put you or the team at risk." she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. "you need to recover." she adds a second later, earning a frustrated huff from you.

you know you'd be saying the same thing in their position. if it was price, ghost, soap, gaz– if any of them were captured, you'd be forcing them to take time off, too. you can't shake everything that's happened, though. you don't have much to show in the way of torture-related injuries, but the isolation alone was enough to make your head spin. you never felt safe, always waiting and anticipating makarov's next move. the longer you went without seeing or hearing about him, the more your suspicions grew.

a break would give you the chance to collect your thoughts and break yourself out of the doubt that's been stewing in your head ever since that first meeting. in the field, you need to be confident and decisive. there's no room for hesitation and self-doubt.

"we'll keep you updated," price starts, regarding you with a reassuring smile. "and, this won't be forever. just long enough for you to get your head on straight, yeah?"

you deliberate on it, eyes falling to the floor, and nod slowly. he's right. you're not reliable in this state.

"okay." you concede, focus shifting back to the two.

you're heading out again by the evening, saying your goodbyes to the squad on the very same airstrip that you landed on earlier in the day. soap nearly crushes you in another hug, forcing price to yank him off before you suffocate, gaz reminds you about ten different times to call if you need anything, and ghost runs down a lengthy list of relaxation techniques whilst loading your bags in the helicopter.

it's nigh-impossible to be upset about the situation when it's made clear that they don't want you to go, either. after two weeks of constant stress, everyone just wants to be together again.

you get so caught up in your impromptu partings that you fail to notice the unidentified soldier watching you from across the field. even the ever-attentive captain price misses the soldier dialing a number on his phone, his eyes narrowing as the chopper lifts off with you inside.

⋆⋆⋆

you step foot in your flat well after the sun's gone down. it's silent, save for the soft padding of your socks against the floor after you kick off your boots. your bags are abandoned at the end of your bed, something you'll unpack later, and you shed your jacket before tossing it on top of the pile.

makarov... what's his story?

with a low sigh, you rub at your tired eyes with the heels of your palms and try to erase the question that's been plaguing you for longer than you'd like to admit. between laswell's intel and the stories price has told, you can paint a picture of who the man is.

a person ruled by his ambition, you've determined. while price's stories were more focused on his own experiences with makarov and his allies, what laswell provided was concrete: he massacred civilians like it was nothing. what could possibly drive a man to that point?

the trip back home proved fruitless, with most results online simply listing information deemed "safe" for the public. you need to know more about him - you need a source that isn't going to sugarcoat or hide the ugly truth. most importantly, you need someone who can get you personal details.

you fish your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your contacts list. laswell is an option, but she's not likely to give you anything while you're supposed to be taking time off work.

a name - or rather, a codename - pops up in the list. your thumb hovers over the contact, debating on whether or not to call.

you give in and click the "call" button after a moment's consideration. the line rings until a cheerful voice greets you.

"ah, lieutenant!" nikolai beams, sounding far too energized at this hour. "price told me about the successful prison break, congrats on surviving the ultranationalists."

"thanks, nik." you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "is there any chance i could ask you for a favor? i need information, stuff that i think only you can get." you nervously shift your weight while asking the question, worried that you might be hitting a dead end.

"information? about what?"

"makarov."

nikolai goes quiet, and you think he's going to deny your request. but, just as you open your mouth to justify it, he speaks.

"you want private informaton, yes?" he mutters, causing you to let out a deep breath. "price hasn't told you everything, and you want to research the man that captured you. that is to be expected."

"give me a little time, i'll send you whatever i can find." he continues. you can hear typing in the background after, signaling that he was following through with it. you tell him goodbye with a small "thanks" and hang up, an immense weight lifting off your fatigued shoulders.

a hot shower would be nice right now. you haven't had one in weeks, and nikolai said that gathering everything would take a while. you might as well use the break instead of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs while waiting for him.

you trudge to the bathroom and turn the water on, stripping out of your clothes and leaving your phone on the counter. you hop in the shower and feel your aching muscles relax as soon as the warm water washes over them, soothing weeks of pain and discomfort. when you get out and wrap a towel around yourself, you finally feel relatively at ease for the first time since your escape.

your phone buzzes from nearby, and you blink at the screen after picking it up. a message from nikolai stares back at you.

sent what i have, hope it helps 22:43 pm

thanks, appreciate it! 22:43 pm

i'll let you know if i find anything else 22:44 pm

you quickly dry off and get dressed in more comfortable clothes, grabbing your laptop as you stroll into the living room and get settled on the couch. it only takes a couple minutes to access the files that nikolai sent, and upon seeing a page of folders to look through, you're left shocked at the sheer amount of information he gave.

it's overwhelming, just how much makarov has done in his career - if you can even call international terrorism a "career." you decide to begin at the top of the list, shaking off the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach.

the contents of the folder go from typical, almost expected, crimes from someone like him, to acts that make you understand why price is wary of him. you sift through each file, studying the contents as if you're going to be quizzed on them, each word acting as another nail ripped out of your coffin.

the list of crimes seems endless. kidnapping, torture, trafficking, bombings, assassinations, mass murder... not only are you lucky to be uninjured, you're lucky to be alive. the privilege of being a "special" target, you presume. if not for your position in the task force, you'd be lying dead in a ditch or tortured to the brink of insanity. your stomach churns at the thought.

eventually, you reach a folder named "personal." it lives up to its name, as when you access it, the files are all details about the man himself. some of the basic information is known to you already, but most of it is entirely new - stuff you're sure was intentionally hidden away from curious eyes.

what you can find of his life before he began his reign of terror both answers your questions and adds more to the list. he was a paratrooper, a captain in the spetsnaz, regarded as a master in the field despite the list of complaints on his file. many of the men under his command considered him a natural leader; charismatic, cunning, but harsh in his methods. he received several comments from the higher-ups about his alarming behaviors, but it all came to a head when he was investigated for war crimes. he left the military to avoid the charges.

somehow, the crimes that got him discharged seem mild compared to what he's done since. you can't wrap your brain around why makarov treated you so... kindly, given everything you've read. he should have ended your life or made it a living hell, but instead, you got regular medical treatment, decent conditions, and mostly left alone during your imprisonment.

you sit back from the screen, sluggishly running a hand down your face. makarov didn't fight to keep you captured. if anything, he was happy to let you escape. it doesn't make sense. he went through the effort of capturing you alive and gained nothing from it. for a man that favors the zero-sum game, he's not playing it well.

unless this is his gain. getting in your head, confusing you, forcing you to think about him when you should be focusing on recovering. he's bogging you down, preventing you from being reliable for your teammates.

or, maybe you're looking into things too deeply. overestimating just how clever one man can be.

your phone buzzes from its spot on the cushion, and you blink at the bright screen, squinting to read the notification. it's a text message from an unknown number. a few different people flash through your mind, potential allies that could have changed their numbers recently, but no one stands out. you exhale and click the notification to open up the message fully.

feeling well? 12:35 am

you stare at the message for a minute. it can’t be price or any of the boys, you already have their phone numbers. you highly doubt that laswell changed hers without updating you, and nikolai probably hasn’t change his in the two hours since your last conversation. just as you go to type a response, two more messages pop up.

recovering at home is preferable, isn't it? 12:36 am

much more comfortable than a medical wing. 12:36 am

who is this? 12:37 am

take a guess - m 12:37 am

a chill creeps up your spine as the realization dawns on you. it's makarov; not only does he have your phone number, but he knows you're not at base. he's managed to track your location in less than six hours.

you drop your phone on the coffee table and shoot a wary glance around the room before checking to make sure your front door is locked. once you're sure of it, you start to pace around the room, wringing your hands together. the smart decision would be to call someone - price, laswell, one of the boys, someone that can get here quickly or send a person in their place.

you're not defenseless by any means, but there's no telling what makarov knows. he could be halfway across the world or in the very same city, and you have no way of finding out without putting yourself at risk. you may have gotten lucky in al-mazrah, but you can't rely on luck.

your phone lights up again, and from your position a few feet away, you can just barely make out what the screen says.

let's talk, lieutenant. 12:40 am

no fucking way. you're not entertaining the madman that you just escaped.

you need to get out; take a walk, clear your head. makarov knows where you are, but that doesn't mean he's actually here. for all you know, it could be a lucky guess. you throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes before shoving your phone in your pocket, hastily stumbling out the door. the crisp night air hits you the second you step out, making you draw your jacket tighter around yourself as you start down the sidewalk.

your brisk - practically panicked - walk does little to calm your nerves initially. you have to force yourself to slow down, strolling along at a more leisurely pace. after a couple minutes, your shoulders droop and the panic begins to dissipate.

the late hour means that you're the only person out right now. all you have for company is the occasional breeze that sweeps past, and you think that you prefer it this way.

until your phone buzzes. you stop dead in your tracks and pick it up, letting out a relieved breath at soap's name flashing on the screen. you answer the call with an easy smile.

"hey! i didn't expect you to pick up," soap laughs on the other end. "realized how late it was after dialin' your number." he adds, pulling a chuckle from you.

"haven't been able to sleep, so i figured i'd take a walk." you shrug, as if he can see you.

"ah, figured you'd pass out the second you landed." he concedes while you absentmindedly toe at the ground, eyeing your surroundings. "just wanted to check in– make sure everything is going okay with you."

for a moment, you debate on mentioning the messages from makarov. logically, it's the right thing to do; your team needs to know about any potential threats. however, there's a little part of you that hesitates to say anything. you feel the urge to keep it a secret, to wait and see what happens. makarov's given you useful intel before, maybe you can get more out of him.

"yeah, i'm doing all right," you mutter, reassuring soap. "just want to get back to work as soon as i can. i miss you guys."

soap gives you an appreciative hum. "y'just gotta heal up quick, l.t.! we're all missing you here. ghost and price are meaner than you are."

"they're not 'mean,' they just don't tolerate as much nonsense from you and gaz as i do." you counter with a playful laugh, pulling a groan from soap.

"it's not nonsense, it's– what?" soap suddenly stops talking, and you hear a voice in the background of the call. he says something to the person before exhaling dramatically and speaking into the phone again. "sorry 'bout that, it was price. apparently we've got somethin' to handle– a wrecked shadow company transport, i think. i'll send a message after we're done, yeah?"

you wave your hand while talking, again, as if he can see you. "don't worry about it, just stay safe out there. let me know how it goes."

the two of you exchange quick goodbyes and you end the call with a smile still plastered on your face. your brows furrow as you immediately receive another call, though. the number that flashes across the screen makes you grip the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white from the strain.

makarov, of course. you decline the call with an irritated sigh and spin on your heel, heading back to your apartment. another one comes through seconds later, which you choose to simply ignore this time. you speed up the short walk to your front door and slam it closed behind you, locking it just as quickly.

"you are surprisingly difficult to get ahold of, petra."

you whip around and press your back to the door, locking eyes with the man you tried so desperately to avoid. makarov stands in the middle of the room, a smug grin on his face, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

"how the hell did you find me so fast?" you sneer at him, hand tightening around the set of keys in your palm. he's wearing a thick vest and armor plates - they won't save you, but the keys might buy you enough time to reach the gun in your bedroom.

"i have my ways," he tilts his head to the side, moving to lean against the back of your couch. "i needed to speak with you, and you weren't answering the phone. this was my only option."

you scoff at the claim, briefly loosening your grip. "no, you also have the option of leaving me alone." you argue, stepping further into the room. "besides killing you, we don't have any business to discuss."

"is that so?" makarov chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. you follow his gaze and land on your laptop. it's turned on again, with one of the pages detailing his personal history displayed on the screen. "you'll be very interested in what i have to say, lieutenant."

you bite your tongue, shifting your weight and dragging your focus back to him. "fine. tell me, then."

makarov straightens, his gaze flitting back to you. the edges of the keys dig into the skin of your palm, the bite of the cold metal keeping you grounded as he stalks toward you, like a predator approaching a prey animal. those alarm bells start going off in your head again, every instinct screaming at you to preemptively strike or run.

when he's a few feet away, you lunge. jabbing your keys forward, you try to hit one of the weak spots of his vest, aiming for the one of the gaps near the straps.

the training he underwent years ago is made readily apparent as makarov easily grabs your wrist and twists it, disarming you in one smooth motion. you try to use your other hand to break free, only to end up with both hands in his iron grip. you're spun around and shoved against the wall with your hands behind your back, trapped between your bodies.

you struggle, but that only encourages him to tighten his grip, firmly pinning your hands. he presses forward, using his own body weight to prevent you from fighting him off.

"you're predictable, petra," he mutters, the comment making you thrash against him. "you can't see past yourself– i am freely offering you information that your allies would die to gather themselves. take advantage of this generosity."

"i hate you," you seethe, writhing and trying to break free of his hold. he doesn't budge even a little, chuckling softly next to your ear as he leans in closer.

"good. i like that." makarov murmurs, his voice low and controlled, warm breath fanning over your skin. heat floods through your veins when he speaks, which you attribute to anger towards him.

until he nudges you again, his upper body falling almost perfectly in line with the curve of your back, his hands loosening slightly and providing your red-marked wrists with some relief. it just now occurs to you how close he is, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your spine forcing your own staggering breathing to calm itself and match his. his cropped hair tickles the side of your ear as he hovers next to you, his side profile visible in the edge of your vision.

you bite your tongue again, though for a different reason than earlier. holding any feelings but hatred and contempt for your enemy - you might as well mark yourself as a traitor if that happens. you can't allow yourself to fall for the games that he's definitely playing with you. the task force needs you, and they need whatever intel makarov can provide you with right now.

"i can be civil," you concede, barely above a whisper. "i won't attack if you don't." you add a moment later, pursing your lips.

you can see the edge of his lips twitch from the corner of your eye. makarov releases your wrists after a beat and steps back, giving you enough space to turn around and face him, pressing your back flat against the wall.

"do you trust the commander of shadow company?" he asks, bluntly. you narrow your gaze, huffing at the thought.

"graves? not by a longshot. i can trust him enough to shoot your guys before he shoots me, but that's it." you reply in an equally blunt tone.

"do you believe he is attached to the general's plans?" he says, and you deliberate before shaking your head. it wouldn't make sense, given graves' recent allyship with urzikstan. makarov continues, appearing satisfied with your answer. "you're correct. the shadow is not aware of shepherd's plans any more than your team is."

"how does this help me?"

"you will need him to cooperate in order to take down general shepherd," makarov asserts. you tilt your head curiously, urging him to elaborate. "which means, unfortunately, that you will have to work with him. my men can handle the general's lap dogs, but commander graves is the only person that can locate the general himself."

of course. your catalogue of enemies that you have no choice but to work with just keeps expanding.

"i see." you mumble, fingers twitching at the prospect of working with graves. tolerating his soldiers is one issue, but the commander is a whole other ballpark. "i still don't understand– why are you giving me all of this?"

makarov finally tears his gaze from yours for the first time since you separated. he walks over to the front door, right next to your spot against the wall, and unlocks it with a small twist of the lock. he turns toward you, though his eyes do not lift to yours again.

"the enemy of my enemy is my friend," he utters, swinging the door open. "we'll be in touch. do not ignore me next time i contact you."

you nearly miss his eyes flicking up to your face, the action so short that it feels like a trick of the light. he walks out of your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud, stopping you from watching him as he disappears into the night. you don't think you want to know where he goes, but one thing that you can say for certain is that it won't be the last you see of him.

you'll be seeing him even sooner than you can imagine.

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⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

[fogdraws]

A Softening of The Brain

A Sherlock Holmes fanfiction based in "The Valley of Fear"

“John.” The sound of my first name stopped me on my tracks; Holmes never used it, as did the costume go. “Would you be afraid,” he whispered, “to sleep in the same bed of a lunatic, a man with a softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?” This could have so many implications, so many ways to interpret it, but no matter what sense I made of it, there was only one answer. “Not in the least,” I said with some difficulty, regaining the breath I had lost before. “Sherlock, I'd never leave you.” That, I turned to regret just after it came out of my lips — too revealing. Or... what if that scene from the canon had another meaning? One that's more... romantic.

Or... Read it down here! vvvv

It were odd times, the days I'd passed at Birlstone, investigating the murdering of Mr. Douglas. Odd would not suffice; I had witnessed some things that I would really rather not.

Now the moon was high and I laid down in a double-bed — the best we could find in this small thing they call town — with a book resting on my lap, its words stubborn to be read. My mind, nevertheless, was still racing, taking every chance to turn to Holmes’ being: what would the man be doing right now?

It is of Holmes' doing, this disappear-first-explain-after situation that keeps doing numbers to my heart, as much as it is of my doing to let myself worry about him. How could I be tranquil when I don't know of his well-being?

The detective had gone out after saying something very sparse about the case — mysterious and dramatic, just like always. Maybe he'd come back today, maybe tomorrow, maybe a week from now. No one knows; sometimes I think that neither does he.

I had just put the book onto the bedside table when I heard Holmes’ shoes hit the ground: slow and light, much like he does when he knows I’m supposed to be asleep. Of course, he knows I’m not. He knows pretty much everything — lying is not an option really, but you can make do with omitting half of the facts and hoping he’ll buy it.

Accepting the false as truth for your own self, sometimes, serves as a better lie than conjuring anything new. Protecting it, controlling yourself where you can, and letting yourself when it’s convenient to do so. That, I should say, I have acquired quite the ability to do since I’ve come to live with Holmes.

The old door clicks open and Holmes’ face pops out of the slit of light that comes out of it. His thin aquiline nose is beautifully contoured by the dim illumination, making his face look absolutely otherworldly against the brute finishing of the inn’s walls; I ended up staring for more than would be adequate. The world was still hazy from my tiredness, and the words, hard on my tongue.

“Hey, Holmes”, I started, “have you found anything out yet?” His tall, lean figure turned away for a second, sending my mind into a rush, longing for his gaze: I hadn’t seen him enough, observed him enough. The excuse I created then was that I worried only for his well-being, that I’d felt the need to look over for any wounds as is the first instinct of a proper doctor. That would be set to be a doubtful truth for me and for the world.

My eyes are startled as a dim candle is lighted by those delicate, though strong, fingers of Holmes’, sending me flinching slightly, the sleep still washing out my mind and senses. All of the sudden, he is coming closer to me; I sit up.

Now, I’m wide awake — his head is so close to mine that I can feel his controlled breathing. Holmes certainly doesn’t feel mine, for it had stopped completely at some unknown point, out of some feeling I couldn’t acknowledge without it becoming too evident.

I take in his face, his smell, his heat: no one would look at him from a distance and think Holmes a man of such comforting ways. As little as his sole presence was enough so that you could relax and feel like yourself again. This man really is majestic.

“John.” The sound of my first name stopped me on my tracks; Holmes never used it, as did the costume go. “Would you be afraid,” he whispered, “to sleep in the same bed of a lunatic, a man with a softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?”

This could have so many implications, so many ways to interpret it, but no matter what sense I made of it, there was only one answer. “Not in the least,” I said with some difficulty, regaining the breath I had lost before. “Sherlock, I'd never leave you.” That, I turned to regret just after it came out of my lips — too revealing.

“Ah, that's lucky,” was the last thing any one of us uttered that night. Maybe both of us were afraid of what could come out of further conversation. I, certainly, was.

In the most absolute silence — Holmes had this kind of disturbing ability to do little to no noise — and in almost pure darkness, he started undressing himself slowly, until only the boxers remained. This inn of ours, see, had the worst bathrooms any of us had ever seen (and that says a lot, considering that we both had our fair share of doubtful stayings), which made changing inside them virtually impossible.

That meant we had to change in the room, something that wasn’t really a problem before, since we made the effort to be alone while doing so. But now, I deduced, it was too late at night. And we were tired. And we weren’t seeing much because of the darkness. And we were friends, for god’s sake! Two men, just that. Partners, only at work.

A nightgown was put over his long body. I turned my face towards the wall: allowing myself to such temptation was not an option. To Holmes, probably, this was an act done with no ulterior motives, but to me, oh, to me, it was torture! A display of everything I could never dream to have, right in front of my nose. Sherlock seemed embarrassed too; the whole ordeal was done quickly, and I am grateful, for if it was to go on for longer still, I would bear it no more.

The bed was a double one, but still rather small. I’d suggested that I sleep on the floor, but Holmes refused, claiming that the hard floor would cause my shoulder to hurt. Then, he said he’d do it instead, but I also didn’t let him. We had stared at each other for some seconds, before going back to whatever we had been doing before; the decision was made, and there was little to do but accept it.

The candle was unlit: we were now in complete darkness.

A newly-familiar weight settled just beside me on the bed, moving the covers until they covered us nicely. The atmosphere was cold, but in this old small place — full of cracks and pests and whatnot, the air dusty with misuse — I felt more than sufficiently warm. Comfortable. Cosy. Holmes' knees gently touched my sides, and somehow his hand ended up close to my arm, knuckles barely touching my bare skin; I dared not to move.

When I woke up, Holmes was closer, much like we gravitated towards each other during the night: just enough that I could feel his breath on my shoulder, his hand laying limp on my chest and moving with the rise and fall of it. It was impossible to say which one of us did it. Maybe both.

Laying very still, should I wake him up, I admired the mess of strands that was Holmes' hair. Dark and flowy, they framed his face nicely as if each one of them were just meant to be there.

I dared to push a loc off of his eyes. At that, they opened, causing me great panic — which I would not dare to show — grey irises barely visible before closing again in a lazy motion. Holmes' slumber is light, I should've remembered. The palm of his hand stiffened and was swiftly removed from where it laid.

Minutes later, the detective jumped off the bed and went on to his day, like nothing ever happened this last night. I accompanied him, as I always do, and it was a great day with great discoveries, as it always is with him. But I would not let it be.

I got in the room first; Holmes had gone on another errand I'd never hear the resolution. Sat upon the bedsheets, I awaited his presence in uncontained anxiety, mind trying to make sense of what I had heard yesterday. What had he meant with it? My thoughts kept turning to improbable possibilities, which I quickly shut down, only for them to arise, once again, minutes later — things that were but figments of my fierce imagination. Images of bare shoulders, parted lips and thin hands aroused my mindscape at every opportunity; this man, Holmes, tested all and every one of my limits without even knowing he was doing so.

After what seemed an eternity, Holmes' figure entered the room with an unprecedented heaviness. Living with the detective had its advantages: since staying at Baker Street, I had become more observant, and did as much as picking up some skills from him. As my heart raced, I looked up and saw his face go through a plethora of emotions when spotting me, like his did the very same. “Are we not discussing what you said yesterday? At night.” I said, words hard to find in an aching throat.

Holmes gave a violent start. “I did not mean anything by it, for I didn't think before talking.” The detective finished his point with the clink of metal on wood, putting down the candle he held with force. It almost went out. “It's best you forget it ever happened, Watson.”

“No, we are not letting this pass. Holmes, hear me. No one says something like this with no end in mind. You must be aware I'm here for you. Always. Forever.”

“Do not press your head to this matter, Watson. It isn't worth your time.”

“Was it about the way I write your character in The Strand? I do not think you of any bad. I am not leaving you, no matter which kind of insane you must think you are. What would be so dire that it’d make me flee?”

“Please, John.”

“It's only for the public! You know that. You've said it yourself: I romanticise everything, see facts that aren't there; make up thoughts I didn’t have. Omit the ones I have, even!”

There was a pause; silence. Silence, only in words, for his mind seemed ever so active, and he made it as to go away, exit the room more than once, never going through the action of fully turning around. Holmes’ lips parted a few times before he was able to direct his speech at me again.

“It's not that, Watson.” A pause. “It is that I am no normal person. Should anyone see me as myself, I would be promptly dead, and my reputation, ruined. You needn't have any more preoccupation than what you already have with this case.” At that, Holmes turned his head around to face anything but me.

“Then I don't know what to think anymore. Is this what you want of me? Confusion?” My voice cracked in distress. I didn't notice when I had gotten up, nor when I’d placed myself so close to Holmes’ figure. The candle flickered, encasing him in periods of light and shadow; but never taking away those eyes, that mouth, that nose, all features as though they were sculpted by the most skillful of artists.

“No! It is, John, that you matter so much to me, that you make me sick of the heart, of the brain and of the body.” That forced a breath out of my ribcage; my mind raced with no ending line.

“I… what?”

Holmes seemed physically struck with the realisation of what he had really professed, the gravity of his words. For a man whose whole ordeal was calculating the possibilities — the words — before doing — saying — anything, he sure did look surprised by his own self, eyes darting all over me in a panicked frenzy: deducing what I would say or do next. Holmes had told me, before, that I was one of the few people he couldn’t read all that easily. That made me interesting, according to him.

What I would say next was, indeed, a good question. I, myself, had no idea what to think. Blood pumped through my veins quickly, and I felt hot all over — had Holmes meant what I thought he did? I took one, two steps closer to Holmes' figure; our hands brushed slightly, sending chills down my spine. “Sherlock.”

Holmes backed away slightly from me. “This is wrong,” he warned in a sorrowful tone, much like he mourned something that could never be his. Something I also did for the longest while, since meeting the detective; discovering we both felt the same agony, over the same problem, was positively soothing.

I glanced at Holmes lips — thin, but almost welcoming, as if they were meant to meet mine. “I know.”

“You're staying?”

I placed both hands on Holmes’ clothed chest; it rose and fell erratically, almost in synchrony with the beating of the heart that lay inside it. Mine must’ve been doing the same.

“Only if you want me to.”

Holmes’ lithe hands moved to cover my own, holding them tight. We were close, closer than we had ever been, as the detective inched forward and did what I had yearned for so long: our lips met and gave way to a chaste kiss, leaving me breathless and desperate for more.

“Oh, I surely do,” Holmes answered before pressing his lips against me again, this time more passionate. I let mine part, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and kissed back. It was better than anything I could ever imagine, heat surging deep in my body as we moved in unison.

That night, we went to bed early, but not to sleep.

[shipfishwrites]

i've been wanting to get into pern rp, do you have any tips/suggestions?

hey sorry for the late response, for some reason tumblr forgot to tell me

thank you for this ask!! i would love to answet it fully and completely but it would be a very long answer!! basically a breakdown of how to scope out an rp that will fit you.

here are some broad based ideas to get you started as you shop for an rp:

check activity. find an rp that aligns eith your preferred activity level -- if you want to perfect every post and trade replies weekly, look for evidence of that, if you want daily replies, look for that

check recently approved characters to see if they match the vibe you want -- a lot of times the lore doesn't match the vibe of the site, so something can look really cool based on the lore but actually have become a different vibe over time

pern rp particularly has a pretty bad time with staffing all of their ranker-players. if eventually attaining a ranking/leadership/plot relevant character is your thing, look for evidence that the admin team does that (evidence, not them sayimg so in the rules)

here's some things i do that may not work for you:

i don't bother to read the rules until i've basically made up my mind if i'm going to try to play there. i go for the dragon info page (and wher page if the site does whers) and read through the description of the canon and special colors. are greens forced/expected to be stupid sluts? are bronzes forced to be noble knightly chads? biiig pass. the way these pages are written can give you a great idea about how flexible and story-oriented the site intends to be. i lean hard either "let me do anything" or "make the restrictions interesting" so ymmv

for jcink rps: go to the bottom of the site, get "today's active topics" and change it to see the past month. pay special attention to who is active in the rp. look at their characters. see if the vibe is right for you

check out the adopts!!! mega points if the admins are cleatly trying to get people to enter leadership positions. big demerits if there is some kind of ban on newbies having leadership. (buying rankers can be neutral or bad, it depends on the site)

for getting into pern rps specifically:

for this purpose i'm going to assume you, nonnie, are somewhat familiar with the books and at least passingly familiar with the art and commentary in the pern tag here on tumblr. i assume you like the books?

it is very important to remember that if the site you are looking at is up front in praising the books, says they really love them, etc., this is a BAD SIGN.

pern rp fandom is (maybe a little bit uniquely?) in an argument with canon, not in conversation with it. there are so many aspects of canon that just suck in an rp setting (ex. lifetime appointment of the senior weyrwoman, meaning the only way to shake that up is for her to die, everything about flights) that even the most canon weyr has yo make concessions to make it playable/comfortable in a group setting.

so if a site up front is like "we're canon. not like those other sites. we actually care about the lore." this is actually a dogwhistle for blatant transphobia, homophobia, favoritism, and really shit moderation. likewise, a tone of anger or vitriol towards more canon-leaning sites is a red flag, they tend also to have extremely narrow views on what the "right" way to play is.

the best way to play a pern game is to take the books as a framework, like baking a cake, that's your flour and egg, you're getting the structure from there but your cake isn't going to taste good unless you get a site willing to spice it up with its little extras and go to the effort of putting some basic butter and baking soda in there to fluff it up. pern in the novels does not work as an open, public rp, it's not a recipe for cake, so everyone adjusts it, the people who say they don't are Lying.

anyway

suggestions

i don't feel comfortable recommending an rp for you nonnie without knowing what you're most interested in. i have heard that at least one site is just starting up so that could be a great place to start.

i'm in the middle of making a site but it's not ready yet

@ followers, kindly recommend your rp spots for nonnie! (don't just drop the ad, give them a feel for the rp. don't leave out the rough bits either, we all know every site has them)

[neverenoughmarauders]

Prophecy / Potters' in hiding / Snape & Peter spy timeline 

I've wanted to share my current headcanons on this for a while. I'll go through what pieces of evidence I believe support this. There might be a slight rant in here about the fact that there's no way to get all the pieces we hear in canon to align - as far as I am aware.

Timeline (mostly headcanon supported by canon, some of it is canon):

1. Late 1979/early 1980: James and Lily step back from "active/fighting" Order duty due to Lily's pregnancy. As they are not working, and Lily is muggle-born, they are essentially in light hiding/keeping a low profile

2. Spring 1980: Dumbledore hears the prophecy and Snape, overhearing parts of it, relates it to Voldemort. 

3. Early/mid November 1980: Snape learns from Voldemort that he thinks the prophecy is about Lily Potter's son. Although getting a reassurance that Lily will be spared, Snape decides to inform Dumbledore. 

4. Late November 1980: The Potters are warned by Dumbledore and go into hiding. Peter starts passing information to Voldemort about the Potters. 

5. Early-ish July 1981: The Order photo is taken

6. Early/Mid August 1981: Lily writes her letter to Sirius 

7. Mid-October: Snape warns Dumbledore that Voldemort is planning to make his move. Dumbledore advise James and Lily to go under the Fidelius Charm

8. Late October: the Fidelius Charm is cast with Peter as secret keeper

9. October 31, 1981: James and Lily are killed 

Okay, let's get into it below!

1. James and Lily step back from "active/fighting" Order duty

Honestly, this is merely based on the interview with JKR from 2007:

So that’s what they did, they left school. James has gold, enough to support Sirius and Lily. So I suppose they lived off a private income. But they were full-time fighters, that’s what they did, until Lily fell pregnant with Harry. So then they went into hiding.

I'd be surprised if Lily had continued with active Order stuff after becoming pregnant, but I could see a case of James continuing if it hadn't been for this interview. Still, the reason I have that time range is because I don't think they would have immediately pulled out. They'd make up some excuses for Lily, and James would continue until they were confident enough that the baby would survive. Then they would announce it to close and trusteed friends and Order members. (Sirius would immediately learn about it, of course)

The reasons why I believe this fits into the category of hiding (in addition to JKR's words) are (1) they didn't have jobs so effectively, they are now pretty confined and (2) Lily is muggle-born. Lily's choice is basically to fight or hide, and thus, that's also James' choice.

2. Dumbledore hears the prophecy

It feels overwhelmingly probable that Sybill Trelawney’s first prophecy was made in early 1980. Dumbledore tells Harry: 

”On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above a bar at the Hog’s Head Inn…"

Working backwards from 1996, it’s 1980. Cold and wet implies early spring or fall in my head. As we know Dumbledore is interviewing her for a job, spring feels more probably, as the job would presumably start the following term. Finally, the prophecy tells us that the baby "approaches", so Lily is pregnant when the prophecy is made - Harry is not yet born.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches … born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …”

At this stage, I don't think Dumbledore does much (or he probably does a lot of thinking and investigation and so on, but he doesn't alert anyone). He knows (or quickly learns) that Alice/Frank and Lily/James might fit the bill given both couples are pregnant in ways that mean they might plausibly (or likely) be due end of July. However, Dumbledore is not a sharer of such vital information by nature and he sees no reason to share his suspicions yet. Forcing either couple into (further) hiding could signal things to Voldemort or his followers. No, I think Dumbledore will absolutely have deemed it for the greater good to keep quiet.

3. Snape learns from Voldemort that he thinks the prophecy is about Lily Potter's son. Snape decides to inform Dumbledore.

We see Snape defecting in DH during a time where it's cold and trees are leafless:

[U]ntil his surroundings solidified again and he stood on a hilltop, forlorn and cold in the darkness, the wind whistling through the branches of a few leafless trees. The adult Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone.

Unless we branch out (haha), we can assume these trees are natural, mixed woodland, in which case this scene is set no earlier than mid-November (and that's assuming they're in Scotland). Although it could be later, I am going to stick with mid-November as I feel that neatly fits in with 4.

Could this have happened in fall 1981, given what Fudge says in POA? I believe it is virtually impossible for this scene to take place in fall of 1981 (it can however, be early 1981). The leafless trees do not add up to Snape warning Dumbledore a week or so in advance of the Fideluis Charm, which in turn happened less than a week before the Potters were killed. Plus as we know Snape becomes a teacher at Hogwarts in 1981, and September seems the most likely time for him to start work (and the trees are certainly not leafless then) 

“Now ... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?” [Umbridge] asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. “Fourteen years,” Snape replied.

Thus, we can assume Snape tipped off Dumbledore before September 1981, and given the leafless trees, that means somewhere between late fall 1980 and early spring 1981.

4. The Potters go into hiding. Peter starts passing information to Voldemort about the Potters. 

a) The Potters go into hiding

We know that the Potters go into more "proper" hiding some time after Harry was born. Basically, now it's no longer about keeping a low profile because they're having a child and Lily is muggle-born. Now, they know Voldemort is after their family (thanks to Snape - and I mean that both ways).

I am making the assumption they don't go into this stage of hiding until Snape is begging Dumbledore to "hide them all", I am assuming Dumbledore is forced with this new information to tell Lily and James to hide, and this I suspect happens pretty quickly after Dumbledore and Snape have spoken. This also seems to happen around the time Harry's christening which was hurried. 

When Harry was born, it was at the very height of Voldemort fever last time so his christening was a very hurried, quiet affair with just Sirius, just the best friend. At that point it looked as if the Potters would have to go into hiding so obviously they could not do the big christening thing and invite lots of people.

This doesn't tell us much - I'd expect Harry's christening to happen between a few weeks to a few months after his birth - and hurried could just be that James and Lily had been pretty relaxed about getting around to it, and now they suddenly need to hurry. Having said that, Harry being born end of July, I think it's fair to say end of November can, at least, work with what we know (assuming that the earliest Snape could have been defecting was mid-Nov - see 3.)

b) Peter starts passing on information about the Potters

I flip-flop between whether Peter has already become a spy for Voldemort by this time, passing on general bits about the Order and Peter not becoming a spy before Voldemort starts looking for people close to the Potters. I think I am slightly more on the former: once James started going into hiding when Lily falls pregnant, Peter starts losing confidence. He might even be a bit jealous of James who is safe at home with his family. Peter is scared, feels powerless in the Order now one of his protectors are gone, and is an easy prey for Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Also, if Peter is already the spy, I can see a case for Peter's information being, in part, responsible for giving Voldemort what he needs to make the Potters the target. But it really doesn't matter. 

I've kept this timeline to what we have some basis in canon for, and thus left this at the time Peter starts passing information to Voldemort about the Potters. Why? Because at some point, Snape likely informs Dumbledore there is a leak close to the Potters - though Snape clearly does not know who. 

“[Dumbledore] was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,” said Professor McGonagall darkly. “Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who.”

There might be other ways Dumbledore got this information, but my guess is Snape. As we don't see Snape give this information to Dumbledore when they meet on that hilltop, it's likely Snape informed him later because Snape only learn about it later.

Also, side note but I am 100% sure that Snape did not know who the spy was. Firstly, this should be obvious. If he had known, he would have warned Dumbledore. Secondly, the way Snape acts in POA in the shrieking shak is entirely consisten with a man who believes Sirius (and James by extention) is responsible for Lily's death - and now Harry, always like his father - have the nerve to believe Sirius to be innocent.

“Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he’d killed you! You’d have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black — now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!”

Back to the main point. Whichever way, Peter was likely passing information about the Potters for about a year. Sirius accuses him of such and Peter does not deny it.

“DON’T LIE!” bellowed Black. “YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"  "You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!”

5. The Order photo is taken + 6. Lily writes her letter

Omg the Order photo. There is a case in canon to argue this is taken in 1980, as well as July 1981 as well as late September/early October 1981.

1980? In GOF, Karkaroff offers Crouch evidence against Travers who "helped murder the McKinnons", meaning Karkaroff was captured after the death of the McKinnons, right? However, Sirius tells Harry and Co that Rosier was "killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell", and Rosier was killed after Karkaroffs arrest, meaning the McKinnons were killed in 1980, Karkaroff was arrested in 1980 after this event, and shortly after that again Rosier was killed.

“Yes!” said Karkaroff. “There was Travers — he helped murder the McKinnons!"

“Any others?” said Crouch coldly. “Why, yes ... there was Rosier,” said Karkaroff hurriedly. “Evan Rosier.” “Rosier is dead,” said Crouch. “He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle.”

“Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell."

Quotes not in order of the book

Now, I am just going to ignore Sirius' statement that they died a year before, because that's only one of many things Sirius says in the cave that is inconsistent with other things in canon. Also personally, I read Karkaroff's trial as something that happened after the war - everything he talks about is in past tense. In which case we can disguard 1980 as the year. I just needed to rant. 

Similarly, the reason why September/October 1981 is an option is because Lily writes in her letter that Dumbledore has taken James’ cloak. As we learn later in Deathly Hallows Dumbledore only took the cloak just before James was killed.

You have guessed, I know, why the Cloak was in my possession on the night your parents died. James had showed it to me just a few days previously. It explained much of his undetected wrong-doing at school! I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I asked to borrow it, to examine it. I had long since given up my dream of uniting the Hallows, but I could not resist, could not help taking a closer look

And again, we can assume the McKinnons’ deaths are recent, hence the Order photo will needed the be taken late Sep/early October.

But just as with 1980, it doesn't add up otherwise. Firstly, the letter read as something to have happened shortly after Harry's birthday. Secondly, if the Order photo was taken in September/October, then all the Order members that were killed in that photo were likely killed in the space of a few weeks. That feels unlikely in itself, but if that was the case it would be especially weird for Moody to single out the McKinnons as being killed two weeks after the photo was taken AND Lily equally attributing Peter being down due to the McKinnons death.

So that leaves July 1981 as the most viable option. I still don't love it to be honest. I don't love the idea of James and Lily going to an Order meeting when they know Voldemort is after their son. I don't see them leaving Harry with a baby sitter, nor taking him to the meeting. (But someone on Reddit felt I was an idiot for not just accepting that they left Harry with Bathilda when a massmurderer is after him, so...) Also, Lily's letter reads as if James is going spare from not having seen anyone other than Peter for a while when it's not that long (especially for a parent of a toddler) since he has seen the entire Order. But never mind.

Lily writing her letter a few weeks after the picture is taken, between a few days and a couple of weeks after Harry's birthday, fits the timeline of the picture being taken early July, and as much of canon as we can manage.

7. Snape warns Dumbledore, who in turn warns Lily and James + 8. The Fidelius Charm is cast

For reasons I've hopefully explained, I think it's likely Fudge is talking about Snape alerting Dumbledore specifically to Voldemort having decided to make a move against the Potters in POA. I.e. he is not referring to the time Snape warns Dumbledore Voldemort thinks it's Lily Evans' son, but the moment Voldemort has set his sight at eliminating this unexpected threat.

“Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You- Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know- Who wasn’t an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.” (...) “But James Potter insisted on using Black?” “He did,” said Fudge heavily. “And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed — ” “Black betrayed them?” breathed Madam Rosmerta.

Working backwards from their death on Oct 31, 1981, it feels likely Snape alerted Dumbledore early/mid October. I think we can expect that they moved pretty quickly from warning to putting up the Fidelius Charm - after all you don't move slowly if you know Voldemort is preparing to kill your son.

9. James and Lily are killed 

Hopefully no need to explain this one as it's plain canon! RIP Lily and James.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Mosley Lane: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: This is the last piece of the puzzle. The piece before you can finally be set free from all this pain. You're going to do whatever it takes to help your friend and more importantly, yourself.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

The rest of the team comes back and you inform them of what you and Spencer talked about with Ashley. Not much is known about Roger other than he worked as an electrician for his entire adult life. He eventually married Anita Wled, the daughter of a family who owns a funeral home. Penelope works her magic on the couple and comes up with some very interesting information.

"Apparently, Anita can't have children. Repeated miscarriages. Eventually, Anita got too old to bear children," she says after pulling up her medical charts.

"The first abduction that closely resembles what's going on here was a decade ago in a different city. Children have gone missing every few years in different parts of the state. I guess they got too many and hired Ashley to help take care of their children. Look how well that ended for her," you sigh.

"We're running out of time. Twenty-four hours have almost passed."

"Look, we all think that Aimee could be alive. That's why there are hundreds of volunteers and officers combing every inch of the county."

"They're dragging the rivers and digging up the woods. That's not gonna help us if Aimee is still with the unsub, if she's still alive out there," Emily sighs.

"What about Charlie? Is he still alive?"

"Sarah believes it," JJ says.

"She's been saying that for eight years, JJ," Derek says. "Have you thought about why you suddenly believe her? Do you think it might be because you're a mother?"

"Excuse me?" you ask, suddenly upset at Derek's comment. "Did you really just ask her that? It doesn't matter if she's a mother or not. We all want to believe a mother when she says her missing son might be alive. The ruse used on Charlie is the same one that happened with Aimee."

"All I'm saying is, if we go from a single abduction to multiple abductions over ten years, that changes everything. We all have to be convinced that's what it is based on an unbiased profile."

"My evidence isn't enough to convince you? You've seen the sketches. You've seen what Roger and Anita look like. You know what Ashley went through. Is that not enough?"

"Okay," Emily says, trying to calm the fire between you and Derek. "What's the ruse? A distraction of a lost child and eight-year-old victims are taken from public places with little to no security. That's not just the same ruse. That's a signature, and I'm not a mother."

"Charlie would be sixteen now. We all know that preferential offenders typically dispose of their victims before they reach puberty."

"Unless his purpose is to help Roger snatch the kids," you say. "He's been with them since he was eight. He's completely submissive to them. He'll do anything they say, including helping them kidnap other kids. It would be why Charlie's body was never found. Penelope, we need more information on the kids that were taken. Ashley's lawyer is going need more evidence for her retrial."

Before Penelope can do anything, Hotch speaks to you.

"Are you doing this because you want your friend out of jail?"

"No," you sigh. "I'm doing this because there is an innocent woman doing the time for a crime she didn't commit. These kids are going missing because of this horrid couple, and it needs to stop."

"Fine. Coordinate with Reid and Garcia." He looks at Penelope. "Go back ten years nationwide. Start with abductions in target-rich environments. Rule out any with bodily recovery, dead or alive."

"I'm going to let Sarah know," JJ says and leaves the room.

"The rest of us need to check out Aimee's abduction site with new eyes."

There is a small possibility that Roger and Anita aren't the ones doing this, which is why Hotch is looking at this through an unbiased lens. You know they are the ones responsible, so you have to gather the evidence before you can do anything else. Ashley deserves someone to fight for her.

Since the year 2000, over two hundred children's bodies have not been found nationwide. In the state of Virginia, there are twelve. Charlie has been on the list for eight years, and Aimee just joined it. Aimee was taken from Ashburn and Charlie was taken from Leesburg, eight years apart. Both of them were taken a half mile from the highway. Karla Hartaway was abducted in 1999 when she was eight from Garrison. Stephen Shepherd was also eight when he was abducted in 2003 from Arlington. Danny Kenman was abducted at four in the afternoon from the mall. His parents are divorced, and he's still missing. Tracey Cain vanished from a park with both her parents present. Jake Wusman was abducted while he and his family were on a picnic.

You got in contact with the families you know are affected by Roger and Anita. Before their children were abducted, they confirmed that Roger would come into their houses to fix some electrical problems. Anita once supplied a family with a casket from her father's business. It's how they knew what children to target.

You're sitting inside the briefing room after just getting done talking to one of the victims' families. You're twirling a pen in your hand when Hotch walks into the room.

"Did you find anything?"

"Everyone I talked to had a run-in with Roger and Anita prior to their kid being taken. Roger did some electrical work in their houses, and Anita sold a family a casket for a loved one who passed. Days later or even weeks, their child went missing and Roger and Anita left town. That's not a coincidence."

"I agree."

JJ walks into the room with a woman who looks like she's seen better days.

"Hotch, this is Sarah Hillridge."

"Oh, we met when Charlie was taken. I mean, you know, you saw a lot of us. I'm sure we all look the same."

"Thank you for coming in. Have a seat."

"Sarah, may I ask you something?" She nods. "Do you know who Roger and Anita Roycewood are? Maybe they did some work for you? You know, electrically?"

"I think I might have known a Roger. I had some electrical work done before Charlie was taken. I remember because we had to stay with a family friend while the work was being done."

You look at Hotch and raise your eyebrows. Your suspects are looking more like the people who are doing this now. They might have taken Aimee, and they might have taken Charlie eight years ago.

"Alright, these represent kids taken from public places." JJ has a map pulled up with pins on it. "Locations are never hit more than once, but there are similarities in each--different malls, toy stores, carnivals, theme parks, and parades. They are places where families should feel safe, and where there isn't much security. That's twelve children over ten years old. We should interview all the families."

"I know a few of them. We had a support group. I mean, most of them have moved on," Sarah says.

"You're here, though."

"I saw Charlie three years ago."

"You didn't tell me that," JJ says quietly.

"My husband didn't believe me. Why would you?"

"Tell us what happened."

"At first, I saw him all the time. I thought I did and from what I understand, that's normal, but you can't survive that way. So Jake and I promised that we would move on. A few years later, I saw him. I mean, it was different. In my mind, he had never aged, but this was a teenage Charlie crossing the street. As quick as he was there he was gone again, but I know I saw him. Jake didn't believe me. That was the day he left me."

"What did you do when you saw Charlie?"

"I called for him."

"How did you know it was him?"

"I didn't, not for sure, so I called for him again. He looked back."

"Your husband didn't see him?"

"It was crowded. He disappeared. I lost him all over again," she sighs sadly.

"We'll be asking those parents to sign up for all that pain again. If they've moved on..."

"They'd take the chance if it meant their kids were alive," Sarah interrupts JJ.

JJ calls in the victims' families and has the entire team talking to them to relive their worst days to get a feel of what happened to them back then. You're in the briefing room on the phone with Abel in hopes you have enough for a retrial.

"I talked to the families of the kids who disappeared. Roger and Anita had contact with them days or weeks prior to their child being taken. We know Ashley babysat for them, and she described the kids who match the description of those who disappeared. Is this enough for a retrial? I'm working on getting more evidence but this is all I have right now."

"Send it over to me. It might be enough to convince a judge for a retrial. I'll be in touch."

"Thank you so much. I really appreciate this."

"No, thank you. I hated seeing Ashely go to jail. She's a good person."

"I know she is," you smile.

You hang up feeling really good about this. You believe wholeheartedly that she will get released this week if not next week. On your way to Penelope's desk, you see families talking with your team, most of them crying as they retell the stories of the worst day of their lives. You knock on Pen's door and walk inside.

"Hey, can you tell me where Roger and Anita live?"

"Unfortunately, that trial ended when your friend was arrested. They dropped their house and sold most of their things. If they are here, then they're using cash."

"Okay, if they have young children, they have to have a house, it has to be local, and it has to be big enough to look appealing. It also might have enough room inside or underneath it to keep the children in. So maybe a farm or something? Also, look for places that are secluded."

"I'll keep looking."

"Thank you."

Once everyone has left, you rejoin the team and Sarah in the briefing room.

"Eleven families have confirmed the same woman, forty to fifty years old, calling for children. In some cases, she even had a child with her," JJ says.

"Can I have a copy of those witness accounts?" you ask.

"Sure."

"She actually used the kids for the abductions? Were they her own or the ones kidnapped?" Sarah asks.

"We don't believe she's a mother. Most predisposed female offenders are not, but they are the most violent."

"You said that she's working with someone?"

"Yes. Roger, her husband. She chooses the victim while they do the riskiest part. They grab the child and manage the getaway."

"We don't know for sure if it's Roger and Anita," Hotch says. "I know what you're saying, Y/N. I believe you one hundred percent, you know this. You also know that we need more proof before we can definitively put this on someone."

"I know," you nod. "I'll keep working on my angle."

"Good. Don't give up."

"This is what Charlie looks like as a teenager," JJ says, putting a computer-generated photo on the screen.

"Um, he's tall and thin. His hair is darker than it was, but that's him. That's Charlie. Why would they take the risk of letting him out in the world?"

"They've had him in their control for eight years. He's either got Stockholm or he's being threatened."

Sarah looks like she is going to break down crying so JJ immediately steps in.

"Why don't we take a break, okay? Come on."

"Okay. Thank you," she sighs and allows JJ to take her away.

"Listen, I had Penelope look into Roger and Anita's address just in case it is them. They sold their house and most of their things once Ashley got arrested. I told her to look at places that are big and spacious, maybe a farm. It might be isolated, especially if Anita is violent."

"I'll narrow down the places they might be on the map," Spencer says.

"I agree with Y/N in that it might be isolated. I mean, there's no way to explain a houseful of kids at the neighborhood block party."

"Managing this many children isn't easy, and there have to be incidents where things didn't go as planned. We should start with domestic calls and disturbances. Concentrate on families who were visited by social services."

"I'll get Garcia," Spencer says and leaves the room.

"It's likely these unsubs were questioned before. Once we narrow down Garcia's list, we should revisit them."

Penelope returns with one hundred and seven places where Roger and Anita could be.

"Okay, I have one hundred and seven families visited by social services in the last ten years."

"That's too many to go door to door. We're gonna have to narrow that down. We need to figure out why they're staying in Northern Virginia."

"Their work could be the key. They could have a child-care facility on the premises as a cover."

"You know, it's most likely a single-income family. Someone has to be home to stay with the kids," Spencer says.

"They've been questioned before, so we can expect a rehearsed response."

"Okay, all of this helps." Penelope narrows down the list. "I have twenty-three families now."

Derek looks uneasy and Rossi picks up on this.

"What is it?"

"We're gonna be knocking on the doors of twenty-three families, and all of them have done something bad to a child. We don't have a warrant. Just our profile. If we get it wrong and leave that house, they'll destroy any evidence they have, including the children."

"That's why you have me," you say. "I'll know immediately if there are children hiding. Even if it's not Roger and Anita, I'll know."

"Just for added precaution, JJ, get an article of Aimee's clothing."

"What for?" Penelope asks.

"It's for the dogs."

x

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