#hopefully not for long but nonetheless I'm Thinking about her

[hollowflight-propaganda]

Look out y'all, I'm thinking about El from Stranger Things again and it may be my villain origin story

[2kyo7]

♱ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘 ♱ | SOLEIL

pairing ; adrian tepes , trevor belmont , sypha belnades x female reader

ཐི ➥ summary ; As the world begins to pay the toll of Dracula's rage, four unlikely heroes must band together and defeat him--no matter the price.

warnings ; swearing

word count ; 1.5k

notes ; hopefully the dialogue reads accurate to how the characters actually talk in the series😓😓. Lmk what u guys think!!

ONCE LEAVING ALUCARD's TOMB Sypha wished her people many sorrowful goodbyes, watching for the first time as they traveled somewhere she could not. Soon they themselves would too depart from Gresit and in turn leave for west where their destination rested in between the territories of both OTTOMAN and BOSNIA.

Admittedly the journey was...unfavorable to say the least, paths were thick with snow and ice—turning their fires into signals for enemies which hid in the cover of night. Conversation was admirable, but only when Trevor and Alucard were not knee deep in conflict (which happened more often than not).

After yet another disagreement, Sypha attempted to lighten the atmosphere with questions. "Soooo Savior, how exactly do you know of this true blood? And how are you so sure they'll help us?" He released a drawn sigh and look towards the pile of burning wood before him, "we aren't exactly going to meet just one pure blooded vampire—this is a family of them."

Trevor was quick to sit up in protest, but Alucard held out a hand, almost pleading with the man to stay silent for just a moment. "They are family friends... or once were, before my father had a falling out with the family's head." His face became tense with focus as if it was painful to recall such years ago. "The fight wasn't anything extravagant or gruesome—pure bloods' consider themselves above such 'unnecessary brutality' in their words, but we've never spoken another word to each other since."

Alucard clenched his fist in frustration, to keep himself from saying the unthinkable. "Anyhow, they won't slaughter us when we step onto their doorstep if that's what you're thinking, by the time we get there they'll probably be full off lunch." Sypha huffed before crossing one arm over the other.

"You never answered my second question, are you so sure they'll help us—pure blooded vampires are still vampires nonetheless." Alucard placed a hand between his brows where a wrinkle formed, "I'm not."

"Oh bloody Christ almighty!" Trevor held quiet for long as he knew how, now standing from his icy snow bed he threw his arms high in the air. "We're out here in fucking god knows where about to walk into the god forbidden den of an apex predator! JUST MY LUCK!" Alucard scoffed at what he could only describe as a tantrum, "we need a true blood Belmont, whether you soil over yourself at the thought or not. Now as I've said, it's possible they'll refuse to join us, but in any case they won't kill us. That I'm sure enough of."

"Trevor you quite literally kill vampires for a living, how much different can these pure bloods be?" Sypha shrugged her shoulders in confusion, not exactly exhilarated by the idea of the human race depending on the choice of a single unworldly being. "Oh! I don't know speaker, maybe because they're a 100 times faster, stronger, not to mention smarter then your average run-of-the-mill vamps."

"Like I've said time again, there will be no fight."

"Sure, because we'll already be maggot food before we can get a single word out."

And here they go again, Sypha watched them bicker like children over the last slice of bread—how much longer will she have to put up with this? The more they fought, the angrier she became until eventually water appeared from thin air to slightly soak the two. "What in heaven's name?"—"What the hell!" They shout in union, "Enough! Both of you! We have a long journey ahead and none of your childish yelling will get us there any quicker."

With that concluded the conversation for the night's entirety, Sypha slept soundly knowing there wouldn't be any interrupting noise while Trevor nearly froze to death, his lifeline, the glowing fire in front of him. Though Alucard had his fill on slumber, this wouldn't be of any use as he too clung tight to any of the warmth provided to him that unfortunate night.

After nearly a week of tireless walking during the day while constantly having to fight off hoards of unearthly creatures at night, the trip was proving quite testing. But there efforts were not in vain, finally they'd made it, relishing in their success as a great wooden sign nailed neatly onto high gates read: Welcome to LAVATRIS—population 4,500.

Before they even attempted to make their presence known a man rose from above the gate's entrance, his appearance was a bit disheveled, he had been dressed much too casually to be an official guard of any sort. "State your names and business with Lavatris." His voice was monotone, like he was bored beyond comparison. The three of them looked around to another for a moment, "Ahem. We are stopping by for some shelter...we've been walking for a many days and are terribly exhausted."

The guard stared down upon them with a look of doubt, but prying any further might've killed him. So with a wave of his hand the gates rumbled loudly against ground flooring, opening up just enough for the three of them to pass. "Don't cause any trouble or we'll kill the lot of you—blah blah blah." Once entering the gate began to close just as soon as it opened, "that was odd..to say the least."

"Didn't even matter what we woulda said to the fucker, what kind of security is that? I'll be surprised if this town wasn't a complete sh—" Trevor's assumptions had been cut short at the sight of the city. It's streets were bustling and busy, everywhere you looked had been a different story. People were smiling, playing, loving, exactly opposite of what they'd grown accustomed to in Gresit.

Walking along the streets they were in awe, music played on every corner, new smells of delicious foods anytime you turned, it's almost like they had been disconnected from what went on in the outside world. "The city's always been like this," Alucard spoke, a small grin protruding on his face. "These people have been protected by vampire royalty for generations, and in turn they are food pens."

"Tch like a dog on a leash." Trevor said through muffled anger, hands knee deep in his pockets as he looked around with disgust. "No like a fair trade. True bloods value status, and this proves it—having their meals ready to eat whenever they need, without the hunt? That's lavish living for any vampire." Alucard once again contradicts Trevor's statements with venom on his tongue.

"So these pure bloods don't hunt at all?" Sypha inquired, the happy aura becoming almost contagious as she too found herself smiling. "Not in this city, they travel to surrounding areas if they’re feeling extra peckish."'

Deeper they traverse into the city of Lavatris each part being as lively as the rest. "For heaven's sake I need a drink." Trevor dashed towards the ale vendor, slamming down about three gold coins onto the wooden surface below. "Can't you wait a moment's more? Their home is just through this passing."

"Alucard's right Trevor," she snatched the currency in her hands before the vendor could collect, sending them an apologetic look. "The fate of humanity is resting on our shoulders, and all you can think of is a drink?"

He groaned, appearing as if he would combust at any moment now, mumbling beneath his breath: "At the very least wanted a cold one before I died."

They would begin to walk up a steep hill overrun with large trees the size of mountains that have long since lost their coverage caused by the unforgiving winter season. As they continue to march forwards, a dark grand castle begun to shown through, easily seen in deep contrast with the bright evening sky and nature's frosty white blanket. Breathtaking was one word to describe it upon many others.

When approaching, they were met by two towering iron doors that appeared almost implausible to push open on their own intent. Alucard stood in between both Sypha and Trevor, stepping up further than either of his comrades, knuckles raised and ready for impact. "Before we enter, both of you must remember. True bloods aren't like regular vampires, they are not driven by the need for food or power. Instead pleasure and entertainment."

"Just open the godforsaken door." Trevor began to stretch past Alucard, but before he could make contact the doors slowly unfurl revealing only unending darkness inside, ancient gears turned from within while the density of the doors weighted against the marble floors.

Everyone looked to each other, a silent uncertainty weighing heavy on their minds. Alucard was first to ascend further, the others following soon after, and once everyone had gathered entirely inside—the doors swiftly closed shut, a loud BANG promptly following suit—trapping them helplessly inside.

"WHO DARES ENTER MY FORTRESS!"

[frantic-fiction]

Hear me out… my TAV’s background is that she was a sex worker that was sold into the trade from a young age, and this has been her chance to break free, and she’s romancing Astarion and he’s the first person she slept with that she CHOSE to and WANTED to, and all I can think of is the “you were just a transaction” line he has… and maybe he says it to her because he freaks out and is scared of his feelings? Just something SO angsty, HEAVY groveling, happy ending??

My heart ugh you monster (I love you 🥰)

I don't write angst very often. This was incredibly fun and heartbreaking to write...and I might have gone a little too melodramatic with it. Hopefully this lives up to what you were imagining!!

Transaction

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: Angst with a slightly happy ending, implied that reader was a sex worker, if I missed anything major let me know

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

Transaction.

Transaction.

Just a transaction.

You were just a transaction.

It's a bitter realization that hits you like a cold wave crashing over your very being. How naive of you to believe that someone could see beyond your body? To look deeper than sex and find all the quirks and vulnerabilities underneath. The person who savors the taste of sweet rolls and red wine, who secretly indulges in cheesy romance novels but would never admit it out loud. The person who was forced to do unspeakable things but still stands strong in this cruel world.

You thought he understood. After all the nights spent sharing your history, baring your soul, and listening to him bear his own, you dared to hope he would be different. How could you have been so blind, so naive, to succumb to the romantic fantasy of finding someone who saw and understood the scars you carried and loved you all the same?

How could he do this? The laughter you once shared under starlight and the kisses captured behind tent flaps all feel hollow all merely a performance to win you over for his benefit alone. How could you have been so blind to his true intentions? Was it the desperation for connection that clouded your judgment, or simply the yearning for love you so desperately craved?

The signs were there. Astarion's gradual withdrawal began after the events at Moonrise Towers. You convinced yourself it was merely that the group was finally back in the city. You hoped that a night alone together would help. But hope was a fragile illusion.

Instead of finding solace in each other's arms, you are standing on the precipice of your unraveling. Each word, each action, reinforces the painful truth that you were nothing more than a pawn in his game—a transaction to be exploited for his gain. And as you grapple with the emptiness gnawing at your chest, you can't help but wonder why you failed to see it coming.

"Hey, Soldier."

The voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking slowly, you find yourself in the dimly lit confines of an alleyway, the stench of decay mingling with the chill of the night air. 

Moving like you're wading through water, you turn towards the voice. You stare blankly at Karlach, who kneels beside you with concern and caution as if approaching a frightened animal.

You sluggishly realize—you're the frightened animal.

Behind her stands Halsin, his attempt at a reassuring smile falling short in the face of your obvious distress. 

"We were getting worried about you," Karlach murmurs, her usual cheer tempered by genuine concern.

"I'm sorry," you croak, your voice raw with emotion.

You don't remember when the tears began falling, but they nonetheless stain your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Halsin assures, his voice a soothing balm to your battered soul.

Wrapped in a cloak infused with the scent of pine and honey-suckle, you allow yourself to be guided through the silent streets of Baldur's Gate, the passage of time seeming to have slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

How long have you been lost in your despair?

"He, As—" you choke on his name, the pain of his betrayal still fresh in your heart.

"You don't have to explain anything. Not to us," Karlach interjects, her hand a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

"Thank you," you whisper, gratefully.

The journey back to the Elfsong Tavern is a silent procession, your footsteps echoing in the empty streets as you grapple with the weight of your shattered reality. Once inside, you are ushered into a bed. Gale gives you a sleep draught while Shadowheart heals your shredded palms, which you didn't realize you injured in your dissociation. After that, you're left with a fleeting moment of peace.

No one mentions the absence of a familiar presence, but the void he left behind looms large in the silence that envelops you.

*

From his vantage point on the rooftops, Astarion watches as Tav is led back to the safety of the tavern. Their frail form is a stark reminder of the havoc he has wrought. Guilt gnaws at his insides, punishment for the pain he has inflicted upon the one person who saw past the facade he so meticulously crafted—the person who began to love him.

He feels sick to his stomach, the weight of his actions crushing him beneath its burden. With each passing moment, the memory of Tav's heartbroken expression sears into his mind, the irreparable damage he has caused.

Astarion wishes he could take back the venomous words that slipped from his lips and erase the pain etched upon Tav's face. He wishes he could confess the truth that lies buried beneath layers of deceit and self-preservation and admit the depth of his feelings without fear of rejection or abandonment. Pull them into his arms, kiss away the tears, and whisper all the love Tav deserves to hear.

 But wishes hold little sway when your world is governed by fear.

*

You allow yourself one day to mourn, to grieve for the shattered illusions that once held sway over your heart. But with the dawn comes the realization that there is no room for weakness. You steel yourself against the pain, burying it deep beneath a facade of strength and determination. You still have a tadpole in your skull and a city to save.

The days blur into nights, a relentless cycle of action and exhaustion that leaves little room for introspection or regret. You throw yourself into the fray, tackling each challenge with a ferocity born of desperation and resolve.

Nights, however, offer no respite from the torment that threatens to consume you whole. In the darkness, when the world is shrouded in shadows and silence, the memories come rushing back with a vengeance.

Astarion's parting words echo in the recesses of your mind, a relentless refrain that serves as a painful reminder of your naive hopes. Despite the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface, you still hope Astarion's safe. Deep down, you still care for him.

It was another restless night. You were digging through your travel pack when a hesitant knock hit the sturdy wooden door of your room. It was late, but it was not unusual for Karlach or Shadowheart to pop in and check on you. Standing up, you stowed your pack away and moved to the door. Your socked feet padded against the wooden floor. 

"Shouldn't you be asle—" The words die in your throat, and your stomach drops as you're faced with the man you've been trying to forget. 

Astarion looked terrible. His hair was a frizzy mess, curls sticking out in unruly strands. He had dark purple circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks. His clothes–the same ones he left in–were covered in a splatter of mud and grime. At that moment, Astarion had never looked more like a corpse. Where had he been?

"Tav," his voice was a whisper, laden with sorrow that pierced through the still air.

The sound of your name on his lips was like a knife twisted in an old wound, reopening the fragile scare you hastily tried to heal over the last two weeks. You recoiled instinctively, the pain of his presence threatening to ruin you all over again. You couldn't afford to unravel not again, not when so many counted on you. With wide eyes brimming with unshed tears, you turned away to flee.

But Astarion's desperation refused to be ignored. His hand shaking with uncertainty, he reached to halt the closing door. "Wait! Please, Tav," he pleaded. "I know you owe me nothing, but I beg you, let me say this, and you'll never have to see me again."

Your throat tightened, a lump choking back the bitter retorts that threatened to spill out. The impulse claws at your conscience, tempting you. Yet, the crack of Astarion's voice, the tremor of vulnerability that seeps from him, holds your tongue.

With a heavy sigh, you relented, the door inching open just enough to meet his gaze. "Two minutes," you whispered.

Astarion's relief was palpable. "Gods, Tav, I'm so sorry," he began each syllable, a testament to the regret that weighed on him. "You can hate me for eternity, and I would deserve it. But I need you to know that every word I spoke to you was a lie."

A tear traces a path down his cheek, and you long to reach out and wipe it away—to soften the turmoil on his beautiful face and erase the sorrow that consumes his glistening eyes. But instead, you tighten your fist against your thigh and stare up at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.

"I need you to know that I pursued you instinctually because I needed someone on my side, someone to trust me," he continued his voice a fragile whisper against the silence. "But then you showed me love and happiness and became so much more. You were… you are… more than I deserve. And I hurt you, and I will carry that with me forever."

"Astarion," you began, the syllables catching in your throat, suffused with a longing you dared not acknowledge. But before you could find the words again, he spoke once more, voice quivering with regret.

"I love you, Tav," Astarion confessed, the words lingering in the silent room. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but before I leave, I need you to know you are more than sex and safety. More than a Gods damn transaction."

"Astarion," 

 "And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for ruining the one good thing in—"

"Astarion!" You grab his arm, ceasing his frantic apology. You're stunned, standing on the threshold of your room, feeling more confused than ever. Love? How are you supposed to feel when the man who tore you apart is telling you he loves you?

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he meets your gaze. His eyes swim with a mix of hope and despair. 

The weight of his confession presses down on you, threatening to suffocate. Wordlessly, you walk back into the room, leaving the door open for Astarion to follow. Collapsing onto a chair, you rub your face, struggling to make sense of your raging emotions. The heartbreak and betrayal are still so fresh, but the sincerity in Astarion's regret seems to chip away at your defense. 

"I don't know what to say," 

"I… I understand," Astarion murmurs, his resignation soaking his words. I'll leave you be. I promise you won't see me again, Tav."

But as he turns to leave, the ache in your chest intensifies, the void he leaves behind widening with each step. And that moment, despite the pain, the betrayal, and your base instinct to shut him out entirely, you still care for him. Maybe even love him, too.

"Astarion, wait, you call out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. "Stay."

He freezes mid-step, his back turned to you, body tense with anticipation.

"Please," you plead, the word heavy with the weight of your conflicting emotions. "Just don't go."

Astarion slowly turns to face you, his expression a mix of disbelief and hope, his eye shining with more unshed tears. The silence stretches in the room. Hesitantly, with slow steps, he walks to the seat beside yours. The two of you sit there momentarily, unsure where that left you.

Tentatively, you reach out and take his cold hand into your warm one. "You hurt me," you start, not looking over at the man but feeling his intense stare. You betrayed my trust, and I can't just forget that."

"I understand." Astarion's shoulders slump in defeat. "I didn't expect…"

"But I care for you," You interrupt, squeezing his hand softly. "I haven't been able to stop worrying about you since you left. I don't think I can handle you leaving again."

"Okay," Astarion says, simply rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. "So what now?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to figure it out if you are?"

"There is nothing I'd like more,” he responds, pressing a tentative kiss to your knuckles.

Taglist

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[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #4 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Y'all this chapter took so long to write. This is NOT proofread once again me and Grammarly were beefing because she doesn't understand fanfiction. Nonetheless, it is 12 am MST and here it is. Now for an overall warning, this chapter talks about so much that I was to let everyone know that I meant for this to be a dark series. That was my goal. I'm so sorry if some of these topics seem like they're too heavy for you. If you feel overwhelmed, disgusted, or just find it hard to read please remember that it is okay and you are loved. This chapter mentions miscarriages, eating disorders, gunshot wounds, suicide, etc. I love you all and stay healthy. I will try to post my 500 followers post soon! Not proofread because eepy. YOU'LL read my chapter unedited and you'll like it! (hopefully). Thanks for reading. -Love you all, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #3 > Next Chapter: Tape #4

WARNING: miscarriage, eating disorder, catholic guilt, bisexuality mention??, period underwear, stalking, marital problem, divorce, sexual harassment, guns, knives, gunshot wound, This bitch shoots someone, suicide, mention of a skull, blood so much blood.

Tape Contents: We briefly dive into Heather's past. Adeline makes a call that gives the team a reason to visit the suburbs. Heather makes a decision. You see something other than pink for the first time in four days.

Word Count: 6,296

Then- January 10, 20XX

Heather had to get out of Norfolk. She felt suffocated under her father’s watchful gaze and helicopter ways. He was a hard man to love and hard to be around in general. When he drank, she used to pray that he would forget about her, so she became quiet. She didn’t have many friends here anyway, so she took you out of the equation and knew no one else would know her name. 

So, with a heavy heart, she moved her life away to Richmond. She changed her major to nursing and killed that quiet girl from Norfolk. She fabricated real lies that sometimes she couldn’t separate from reality. She stared at girls silently with longing and played it off as admiration if she was ever caught. Catholic guilt stopped it from growing into anything else. 

She was slow to open up about her feelings and showed people an extroverted sorority girl nursing graduate who liked to go to bars on the weekend and let men’s hands pull at her hips desperately in dark corners. 

Now, at twenty-four, she only thought about one thing: how good her stomach looked in this dress. She had thinned out tremendously since the move. At first, it started due to not having enough money to eat anywhere except the shitty university cafeteria. Then, it warped into something else. During its worst moments, she would log her calories or purge food moments after eating it. She could look into mirrors afterward and feel she was achieving something remarkable. Then, sometimes, she would also look at her face and think, ‘Is that what I look like’? 

But tonight, she wanted to do something different, something fun. Having told her sorority sisters this, they all jumped on board quickly, agreeing to meet at the bar around 10 p.m. that Saturday. They were thirty minutes late. 

Heather was gently fiddling with the hem of her short black dress, her eyes flickering towards the entrance every so often as she waited for them to walk in. This year, she wanted to be happier, less suffering in silence, and a little more smiley. So yes, she wanted to have fun with people she called friends. Despite all her efforts, she was sure they could see right through her sometimes. She swallowed nervously as she nursed a margarita. 

The next time she looked at her phone, she saw texts from her former sisters saying that work had been hectic and that they needed to reschedule for another time. So now, Heather Alexander was right back at square one: alone. She glanced down at her dress and frowned slightly at its tight material. It was the kind of dress that made her uncomfortable but made men comfortable. Something always felt wrong with that. Heather always secretly knew that she felt an attraction to women and men, but she always felt guilty at the thought. 

She sighed as she debated her next move when she saw him. He was the prettiest man she had ever seen. He had soft masculine features that almost looked slightly feminine, a uniform clad against his chest, and a charming boyish smile as their eyes met. Heather whispered a silent prayer that he would like her as he approached her and introduced himself as David Hernandez. How could she not fall for him instantly? Deep brown eyes, pink lips, dark skin, and a low rumble in his voice made her feel like giggling. 

It wasn’t long before the two of them were getting married. They spent a few months together in domestic bliss. He got some time off from work, and she kept her last name, and they were… happy. 

At least they were happy for six months, and then her world shattered around her as David was deployed to England. She cried herself to sleep the night she heard, and David stroked her back softly to calm her. Heather didn’t want him to leave her and see someone better overseas. She was sure that women would throw themselves at David’s feet, begging him to kiss them, touch them, fuck them, like whores in the street of Babylon. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him, looking at him the way she looked at him, talking to him the way she did in his ear late at night. She begged him to try and find some way out of it, scared to lose what was rightfully hers, but he couldn’t. He left that week.

At first, it was just six months, but then it stretched out into a year of deployment—a year spent being faithful to a man across the Atlantic. She called him when she had time, wrote letters to him, sent him emails, and constantly contacted him in any way she could. 

When he got home, it was clear that all her efforts had gone to waste. David was distant. He would sulk in corners of their home on his phone. He would lament on and on about how England felt like his home and how he missed it. She couldn’t stand it. This house they bought together was his home, and it always had been. Why was he struggling to see that? 

The more he talked of his deployment, the more Heather became frustrated with him. Then he started to go out more. At first, it was just to speak with some Army friends on base a few spread-out weekends in the month. Then it was every weekend. 

Heather found that the only thing that could keep him home was sex. So they had sex constantly, like animals in heat. Disgusting and rutting against each other any moment they could. However, the second that it was over, he would withdraw again. He would get dressed and say he had to get to the base. 

Then he was coming late, drunk and slurring, as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and woke her up with sensual touches and dirty talk. She took this as a good sign he was coming home to his wife. He was fucking her and no one else. But slowly, he stopped coming home. He would call her late at night to tell her he would stay with a friend for the night. The following day, he would come home smelling sweet. 

Heather felt lost, searching desperately for something to save her marriage. She was devoting all of her love to a man who no longer wanted it, and she could feel him falling out of love with her. 

Her saving grace was the morning that she found out she was pregnant. She called David with tears in her eyes and told him softly over the phone, and she heard him laugh for the first time in months. And just like that, he was back. 

His soft touches, kisses in the grocery store, and dancing with her in the living room were all back. Her devoted and dotting husband had returned home to her. She could feel the dark cloud of the past couple of months dissipate and the sun shining on her. 

That light lasted a good three months. Heather sat up straight as pain coursed through her body, thundering in her abdomen as she shook David awake with tears streaming down her face. Something was wrong with the baby; she knew it. He drove her to the hospital as fast as he could, but it was too late. She had already miscarried.

Heather took a small sabbatical from work and took time to think about her life. She would stare out of their living room window blankly for hours. David was attentive at first, coming home after work and tending to Heather’s broken spirit. But he soon became bored of that routine. 

When Heather returned to the pediatric oncology unit, David was notified that he was being deployed again to Okinawa, Japan. He was packed and ready by the end of that month. She didn’t see him off at the airport, picking up an extra shift at the hospital to distract her from the fact that he was leaving her again. 

David called her two months into his leave to tell her he wasn’t happy. He wanted a divorce. Then he hung up before she could get a word in. That’s when it all started. Her obsession with consuming anything romantic was almost debilitating. She would visit bookstores and attend readings at the public library, sometimes calling off from work to sit at home with her romances. That’s when she saw you again. She thought that you would have stayed in Norfolk. You had once told her that you loved the water. You liked how it could look gloomy and promising on different days, with mist rolling off the surface. 

She tried not to talk to you. She did. She didn’t want to scare you away like she scared David away. No, no, no, she was sure it would all work out this time. So she loved you from a comfortable distance, watching you from her car on the weekends at night, leaving you her gifts on your windshield—a silent courting. 

She couldn’t help herself on Valentine’s Day. She had slipped into Nicole Smith’s room without Adeline recognizing her, and she gave the table with Adeline’s purse on it a gentle knock with her hip. Heather apologized quickly, telling her not to worry. She promptly dropped to the floor to gather the spilled contents from Adeline’s bag, and she slipped a labeled key connected to a keychain that read ‘or die’ into her pocket. Once she had copied the key, she quickly returned the original to its owner. 

She felt electric when she entered your apartment on Valentine's Day in a dark outfit, a hood covering her face, and four dozen rose petals in a container. She breathed in your perfume as she perused through your bathroom. She traced the spine of every book she could touch on your shelves. She gently dove into your dirty hamper and quickly pulled out a pair of dirty underwear, blood on the inside of them as she shamelessly slipped them into her pocket. Then she got to work spreading the petals throughout your apartment. By the end, she stared at her work, panting lightly as she lay across on your rose-covered bed. 

She had to have you. 

Now- March 5, 20XX

Derek and Spencer managed to get to the public library an hour before closing. They pulled your coworker, Valerie, aside. She was a pretty brunette, glasses resting on her face delicately as she stared at the two men with a soft look of disappointment. She knew that if they were here, they had yet to find you, and the thought made her feel like breaking down in a fit of tears. She fought the urge to cry as Derek asked her a question, sliding a copy of the Polaroid you had received on your windshield. “Do you happen to remember anyone coming in with a Polaroid camera?” 

Valerie stared at the Polaroid with a soft frown, trying to remember something helpful. Spencer spoke quickly, “Sometime around January fourteenth, maybe?”

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip before the memory washed over her, “Yes! Yes, oh gosh, she was blonde, I think. I remember telling her we didn’t like flash photography in the library. I only saw the back of her head, but I remember the back of her head and the flash of a camera.” 

Spencer tilted his head slightly and nodded at Valerie’s words, processing the information silently.“Are you sure it was a woman?” Spencer asked softly before Valarie enthusiastically nodded. 

“Yes, it was definitely a woman who took the picture.” She confirmed in a soft voice before she looked down at the Polaroid with a gentle tenderness in her eyes. “She baked me cookies last week, you know?” She looked up at the two men with a sad smile and tears in her eyes. “My cat is sick, and she made me cookies to make me feel better.” She laughed sadly as the tears started to fall. 

Derek placed a soft hand over Valerie’s and gave her a tender look, “We’re looking for her,” The words caused a shaky sigh to escape Valarie’s lips as she pulled her hand away quickly and stood up. 

Her cheeks were red as she cried out a soft “Excuse me.” before she turned on her heel and hurriedly left the room. 

Spencer picked up the picture and stared at you in the photo. The way your hair shined in the fluorescent light, your eyes and smile trained directly on the person you were talking to. You were personable, and the thought made his stomach turn. He looked over at Derek as Spencer handed the photo back to him. 

The two men walked out of the library silently, and Derek let out a soft sigh as he watched the sun starting to settle against the horizon. Spencer walked beside him with his hand stuffed in his pockets, and his head hung a little low in thought. 

Derek broke the silence first, “We should get back to the station to see if JJ and Rossi have anything,” 

And then they rode back in contemplative silence after that. 

March 6, 20XX

You weren’t sure if it was day or night anymore. All you knew was that you were starting to feel uneven. Every creak of wood, settling of pipes, and rumble of the house had your back straightening against the bed. You were sure that Heather would fly in at any moment and touch you. 

A million options weighed heavy in your mind at the scenario; you could fight back again, but that would get you sliced again or worse. You could go with it, zone out as much as possible, let her have her way with you. That option made your head spin with nausea. You had to find a way to get out. 

You licked at the gash on your lip, gently exploring the cut with your tongue until you could feel the warmth of blood again. You pushed your tongue back into your mouth and looked over at your day-old apple on the nightstand, half-eaten and brown. You tenderly took a small bite that wouldn’t require you to move your lips too much. 

You didn’t have much of the day-old meal left; a half-full water and this apple was all you had. You chewed softly, fighting off the nausea that threatened to creep in due to the morphine. 

You tried to remember anything that could be helpful to you. It was hard to think of high doses of morphine. You had played with the knob often; when you were ready to sleep, it would go up, and when you were up, it would turn down. But lately, you just wanted it to be turned up. 

You tried to think of when Heather came into the pink room. She always stuffed her keys into her pockets. A plan was in the making: Get her out of her clothes, and you could get the keys. 

You nodded a little despite your discomfort with the idea of her touching you again. You just had to seduce her a little, which should be easy considering that she was ‘in love’ with you. The only problem with that plan was that you had a mangled ankle and a body running on morphine; she didn’t. Heather’s temper was quick when you talked back, and rage followed if you did something against her liking. 

Maybe begging would work. No, you tried that already. Why would begging work? Perhaps you could hurt yourself just enough to force her to take you to the hospital. But that didn’t work either; she was a nurse. She wouldn’t incriminate herself like that, would she? Maybe total submission would be the key. 

Convince her that you love her back and somehow ask to be let out with her supervision, but that could take forever. 

You started to cry softly as you set down the core of the apple and laid down, wishing to pull your legs to your chest, but the pain of one ankle and the chain around the other made that physically impossible. 

You cried until you felt your eyelids become heavy, tears still slipping out of your eyes as you fell into a morphine-induced sleep. 

March 6, 20XX

JJ paced back and forth in front of the bulletin board, occasionally flicking her eyes over to the photos pinned to it as she tried to chase what was likely to be a loose end. The number that had called yours and left a message full of sobs had been a burner. 

Spencer had tried to tell her to eat something this morning, but as the clock’s hands crept towards nine a.m., she still didn’t feel hungry enough to try. She sighed out another frustrated huff as Emily appeared in front of her. “If you sigh like that one more time, I think I might have to force a croissant down your throat.” 

JJ gave her another dramatic sigh before she put her hands on her hips: “I’m sorry, I just feel like we have no leads. We know it's a woman, but Adeline isn’t likely to be the unsub, and all her coworkers have alibis. It just feels like we are running around with our heads cut off.” 

Emily smiled and gave her a gentle nod of understanding, “I get it, but you pacing around like this isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get you a drink, coffee, or maybe something to eat.” 

“People who eat breakfast consistently are twenty-five percent likely to be more productive at work,” Spencer spoke up from a desk not too far from the two women. 

Emily pointed over at Spencer, “See? You’re making Spencer freak out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Spencer frowned at the comment before looking back at a file on the desk. 

JJ’s smile was slow as she let her hands fall to her side and let out a soft, “Fine.” She agreed as Emily walked over to the precinct's breakroom, JJ following her. 

Derek was clicking a pen obnoxiously in an off-beat rhythm. He was about to say something when his phone started to ring on his desk. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?” 

“Hi, uhm, is this Special Agent Morgan?” Adeline’s voice was shaky through the phone. 

Derek relaxed slightly as he set down his pen. “Yeah, Adeline. Did something happen?” He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she would call the number he had left with her if nothing happened. He was too focused on the case to think of any other reason anyway. 

“Yeah, maybe? I was talking to one of the nurses about something today, and I recognized one of them. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner, but it was an old friend from college. She was more Y/N’s friend than mine, but I talked to her a little.” Adeline’s voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “I mentioned that she was missing, and Heather had a weird reaction. She smiled for a second. I swear, she said she was sad to hear that, but she looked… well, for a second, it just seemed like maybe she was happy.” 

Derek picked the pen back up again, ready to write down a name. It wasn’t much, but they could visit her. “What was her name again?” 

“Gosh, it was Heather something… Heather, Heather, Heather,” She bit her lip as she tried to think back. “Alexander! Heather Alexander.” 

Derek wrote it down and muttered quickly, “We'll look into it, thanks.” As a goodbye, he let Adeline quickly thank him over the phone before he hung up and called Penelope. 

Penelope, quick as always, picked up on the first ring. “Center of divine intellect,” was her greeting. 

“Good morning to you, too, baby girl. Listen, could you get Heather Alexander's address? Adeline Smith called saying that she had a strange reaction to hearing about our girl going missing.” 

“Easy,” was her answer before Derek could hear the sounds of keys being tapped against and a soft humming sound emitting from Penelope’s lips as she pulled up the address: “4432 Lake Margaret Pl., Chesterfield, Virginia.” 

“You are an angel, Garcia.” 

“I always aim to please,” 

“And you never fail, baby girl.” 

JJ had begged Derek with her eyes to let her go with Spencer. It was just an interview, not even an interrogation, just to see if the connection between you and Heather went deeper than old college friends. So why shouldn’t she go? 

Derek wasn’t one to put up a big fight, so he let her with Spencer. It was only thirty minutes away anyway, so if they needed the team it wouldn’t take too long for them to show up, right? He stayed behind on the phone with Garcia, who was doing her best to see if Heather had any criminal history on her record. 

As the car rolled around the cul de sac, Spencer’s eyes struggled to look away from the plethora of plants in the fenced-in front yard. Pink anemones were scattered amongst daffodils, and what looked like daisies were blooming side by side. JJ rolled the car to a stop, parking it against the curb. 

“Pretty yard,” She muttered as she took the keys out of the ignition. Spencer nodded a little; he had to admit that Spring came in a close second to Fall as the superior season in his mind. The flowers growing after frozen earth had kept them dormant, the welcomed feeling of the sun getting slightly warmer. It was still somewhat chilly at ten in the morning as he stepped out of the car with JJ, but he had to admit, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day weather-wise. 

His head tilted back a little as he stole a glance at the blue sky above them and smiled before stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head toward the house. JJ smiled and walked beside him, happy to be out of the precinct and in the early morning air.

Heather was washing the paring knife she had used on you in her kitchen sink, facing a large bay window in her living room. She swiped at the hardened blood and frowned a little at the memory. Why was she so upset with you? She could hardly remember herself when she got angry like that. 

It was almost fitting, her flying off the handle over something so simple as you not being ready for her love. Was she no better than a man? Had she gotten so accustomed to men's vile and sharp ways that she had somehow forgotten how to be gentle? 

She felt her hands shake as a voice came into her head, whispering her worst fear: She was worse than her father. 

She let tears blur her vision at the thought as she rubbed the knife harder with a sponge, shaking her head quickly. No, no, no, no. She was not like that man. She was not cold like that man. She was lovable. She felt love. She felt overwhelming love for you. She had felt overwhelming love for David. 

Her downward spiral was cut short as she lifted her weeping head and saw a black SUV parked in front of her yard. She quickly wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand and sniffled lightly as she gently slid the knife into the dishwasher, watching two people get out of the van. 

Heather’s eyes were glued to the blonde at first, pretty and fair in the morning sun before her eyes flickered to the man beside her. She recognized him immediately. She was sure it was the same man she almost ran into at the hospital yesterday. 

She dried her hands as she walked around the kitchen island. As they got closer, her head arched to see how close they were. Panic was running through her veins. Her gun was in her room upstairs, loaded. She just had to get upstairs; her feet were quick to try and run upstairs and stash it somewhere close before they could ring the doorbell. Just as the idea seemed plausible enough, the bell rang through the house. 

Heather let out a silent scream of panic as she smoothed out her shirt, fixed her hair, and caught a quick glance of her pretty face in the mirror near the front door before she swung it open with a pleasantly fake smile on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned both of their faces as she smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. My name is Jennifer Jareau. This is Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we were just wondering if we could ask you some questions.” JJ spoke clearly as she flashed her badge at Heather, a slight smile on her lips as she looked into Heather’s eyes. Spencer recognized her, finding it strange that he had almost run directly into the beautiful woman at the hospital just the day before. 

Heather laughed softly and nodded as she stepped aside, opening the door wider to let the two agents inside. “Of course,” Her hands were shaking, but she gripped the edge of the door tightly, half tempted to slam it directly in their faces and go upstairs to shoot Catherine and herself to freedom.  

They weren’t on to her yet; she was sure of that– especially given their lack of people– just two against one. She was quick to shut the door behind them before leading the two of them into her living room. “Can I get you two any water? I have some juice.” 

The two agents shook their heads in a polite ‘no, thank you’ way as they sat on the sofa across from Heather. Heather sat on a chair with a soft “Okay” as she eyed them carefully. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?” 

“No, We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding an old college friend of yours, Y/N L/N.” 

“Well,” She smoothed out her long skirt slowly, remembering to breathe normally, “What about her?” 

“Had you been in contact with her at all? Did she mention anything about someone following her?” 

Heather let out a gentle laugh as she shook her head, “I haven’t really had the time to reach out to old friends lately,” 

Spencer’s interest peaked as he joined the conversation, “How come?” 

Heather’s gaze became a little pointed at the question. Of course, the man has to ask her, “I lost a baby recently, and my husband was deployed soon after, so forgive me for not becoming pen pals with someone I knew at eighteen.” The words were direct and vicious, but she couldn’t help herself. She blew out a soft sigh before she let out a gentle and timid, “I’m sorry,” 

Spencer licked his lips nervously as he leaned back against the sofa slightly, trying to resist the urge to disappear into it. Self-isolation wasn’t uncommon for women who had recently suffered from a miscarriage. That feeling more than likely increased as her support system was ripped away from her. 

JJ gently touched Spencer’s knee before she cut the tension. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Alexander. We’re just trying to piece some information together.” 

Heather ran a hand through her hair before she gave JJ a tight-lipped smile. “I understand that; I’m sorry. Would it be alright if I ran upstairs for some medicine? I feel a headache coming on.” She spoke fast with a tense voice, trying her hardest to pass it off as pain with a rub of her temple. When JJ nodded, she stood up and headed upstairs as calmly as she could manage. 

JJ looked over at Spencer, watching Heather walk away carefully. “She seems angrier with men than anything.” Her voice was slightly amused before Spencer frowned. 

“Doesn’t mean she’s in the clear; stalking is often a form of intense infatuation, but it's also used as a way to control something. She’s struggling with two things that could be our stressors: she’s craving control or dependency. She-” The soft ringing of his phone cut off his whispered rant. He answered it, happy that at least it was just Garcia calling, hoping for a better lead than his ongoing hunch. 

He stood and looked at JJ, who was mouthing for him to go outside, “Hey,” He answered as he slipped out of the front door. 

“Hey, nothing is coming up anywhere on Heather’s record for criminal activity—sorority sister, wife, nurse, clean as a whistle. However, considering we don’t have much right now, I decided to see if she had any warnings at work.” 

“Right,” Spencer looked over his shoulder at the front door as he walked away to stand in front of the garage. 

“Well, last month, she got a write-up for stealing some morphine; her supervisor forced her to go see a therapist after Heather said that she was using it for some leftover pain she was experiencing after her miscarriage. But Heather never showed,” 

Spencer was walking a little further down the driveway as he listened to Garcia talk on the phone, counting the number of windows in the house. His eyes narrowed slightly to try and block out the sun before he looked away. He licked his bottom lip gently before acting on his little hunch, “Could you check her credit report? See if there are any purchases that you can find that seem odd around March third?” 

“Could I check her credit report,” Garcia repeated with a laugh, “Hold on, boy genius.” 

Spencer could see the top of JJ’s head from the bay window, and he turned away slightly, finding ease in the fact that she was still there. Something felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. “She went to the store, but nothing crazy. Bought,” He could hear typing, “Bleach and rubbing alcohol.” 

Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek as he asked, “When was her husband deployed again? Did she buy anything from a florist around Valentine’s Day?” 

“Husband was deployed December first and,” she hummed gently before she sighed, “Bought some flowers on Valentine’s day, rose petals.” 

Spencer felt that feeling when something connected in his brain, a rush of adrenaline as he felt his hunch slowly turn into a plausible accusation. The roses were just that, roses. But the bleach and rubbing alcohol? That’s a recipe for chloroform right there. And finally, Heather’s husband was deployed at the beginning of December, stressor number two. It made him feel slightly hopeful about walking back into the house. “Thanks, Garcia.” He said as his feet reached the end of the driveway. He hung up the phone, walking back towards the house at a fast pace when the familiar and startling 'crack' of a gun reached his ears. 

His hands drew his gun out of the holster, running back towards the house. He pushed the front door open with his foot as he heard the thumping of footsteps running on the stairs. He rounded the corner to the living room before lowering his gun as he saw JJ bleeding from a bullet wound in her thigh. 

“JJ!” His voice panicked as he reached her groaning side, kneeling low to the ground next to her. “What happened?” 

JJ shook her head quickly, “I’m calling for backup. She ran upstairs. She didn’t even try to,” her eyes squeezed shut tightly as a sharp pain rattled through her inner thigh, “Just go!” She urged him as she reached down for the phone in her back pocket, her free hand pressing on her gushing wound to try and slow the bleeding. 

Spencer’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he let out a soft, “No, I’ll stay here until everyone gets-” 

“Spencer, go!” 

Spencer felt his spine straighten at the second command. He gave her a grim nod as he stood up, readied his gun, and started for the stairs. His footsteps were soft and calculated as he ascended, pink light flooding the floor as he approached the top of the stairs. He could hear gentle begging in a voice too soft and thick to be Heather’s. 

“Please, Heather, please, my love. Don’t, please don’t.” Repetitive cries for mercy made his legs move faster until he approached an opened door. The regular-looking bedroom door gave way to a steel one just behind it before revealing the scene of what looked like a demented love nest. 

Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the scene. Gun pointed carefully at Heather as he spoke, “Heather, put down the gun. You love her. You don’t want to hurt her. You know that.” 

Heather jumped a little at the sound, her pistol clicking softly as her sweaty palms tightened their grip. She was quick to turn her body around to face him with the gun aimed directly at him as she spoke. “Don’t pretend like you know me or her. You don’t know our relationship. She wants this just as much as I do.” 

“You know she doesn’t look at her. Look at what you’re doing to her.” 

Heather’s eyes drifted to you, chained to the bed, watching as you hyperventilate softly. Heather felt her bottom lip quiver before she looked back at Spencer. “She’s just scared. You’re making me do this. She knows you’re making me do this.” 

Spencer’s eyes drifted to your crying form on the bed, trying to keep your sobs quiet as you stared at him with wild eyes. He glanced over at the morphine drip next to your bed before his eyes settled back on Heather. His lips parted to say something more, but she cut him off quickly, “Put your gun down, and I won’t do it.” 

Heather’s body language gives her away as she motions for him to put his gun down, her eyes crazed and large, her hands shaking and rigid against her pistol. “I’m not going to-” 

“Put your fucking, gun down, or she dies,” Heather yells so loud that it elicits a soft sob from your lips, your arms coming up to protect your head, ready for the shot to be administered and for your brains to be blown out in front of Spencer in that very moment. 

Spencer holds up both of his hands at that; he swears he can hear the soft sounds of sirens in the distance as he lowers his gun to the floor slowly, his foot gently kicking the gun away with a soft ‘clack.’

“Now you,” his calm voice says as he raises his hands, inching closer. Tears stream down Heather’s face now as she shakes her head gently. 

“I have to,” Is her tear-soaked reply as she keeps the barrel pointed at Spencer’s head, her fingers twitching lightly as they move for the trigger. Your shaking voice cuts through the scene, and Spencer is pretty sure it’s the only thing that is stopping him from diving for his gun a few feet from him. 

“Heather, baby,” Your voice betrays you as you speak the pet name, coming off a little too forced, but you continue anyway. “He can help. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. We can be happy, and we can get away. He can help, right?” Your arms relax around your head slowly as you look over at Spencer, who nods silently. 

“I can, but you have got to put your gun down.” 

Heather chokes out a strangled sob as she looks over at you, watching as you smile at her. You know it’s forced, but Heather can only view it as the prettiest thing she’s ever seen—a great parting gift. 

She feels spit thick on her tongue as she evaluates her options: kill Spencer and go to jail. Kill you, and she might not have enough time to kill herself. Killing herself seems like the best plan out of the three, so she holds her gun steady at Spencer as she looks at your now bleeding smile. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, almost so human that you feel your heart clench in pity before that clenching feeling turns into pure anxiety as you see the movement of her arm. Spencer’s feet aren't quick enough for him to tackle her to the ground as Heather raises the gun to her temple and pulls the trigger. 

Her body drops to the edge of the bed, sliding down it as you feel blood coat your legs. Your ears are ringing, and your mouth is wide open as you scream. At least you think you’re screaming. You can’t hear much but a pathetic muffle of the sound as the ringing in your ears increases.

Your hands are quick to try and wipe off chunks of what looks to be part of a skull off of your exposed stomach, and you can’t seem to stop staring at Heather’s limp body at the edge of the bed. The image of her mangled head oozing blood has you gagging softly, feeling yourself getting ready to be sick before you feel two hands cup your face. 

You’re screaming or sobbing; you can’t tell anymore as Spencer Reid’s face blocks the view. He keeps your face steady in his hands as you try to read his lips, your breathing heavy as he strokes your hair gently. His voice creeps in through the ringing until you eventually hear the soft repetition of, “I got you, look at me. Just keep looking at me; you’re safe.”

You feel your breathing slow, your arms reaching up to grab him before your eyes roll back as your body slumps against Spencer’s, and everything is engulfed in black.

Tag List: @dollykisses4reid @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf

Prologue

MASTERLIST

Summary: The dark hours before the end of Aegon Targaryen II

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats, talks about bedding and non concensual sexual relationships, threats of mutilation, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon 

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Notes: A bit short, but I'm setting a tone here

Corlys could sense the tension in the room, everyone, at least, the survivors, were dangerously quiet, they shared concerned looks between them all.

Alicent’s mouth always seemed to be twisted in inhumane ways, but now… the edges of her mouth almost falls down of her face by her chin

“All the traitors are going to die”, said Aegon, twisting his hands, playing with the rings he had placed in his fingers… trying to hide the fact that they were burnt, the skin melted. He used now high colored shirts and vests, but the still raw, tender skin that was never going to heal, could still be seen in the side of his face, no matter he had decided to let his wild hair ungroomed, fall long framed his chubby face.

“We will be overrun”, admitted Corlys, “A Northerner army, a big one, is passing trough Harrenhal right now, they had been joined by people in the Riverlands that still are faithful to Rhaenyra’s cause, and also from the Vale in the Narrow Sea, we will be defeated, and we will burn inside this walls”, he sentenced 

“I think the Velaryon Fleet needs incentive, Lord Corlys, to face the traitors of the Vale”, two years ago, the council would have laughed to the drunken fool’s face that called himself King, but as they looked into his wild lilac eyes… no one laughed

Corlys was the only one to dare directly into his eyes

In defiance

Say it

He begged him with a silent threat in his dark eyes

Do it

Threaten me

“I think we need to send a little message…”, he continued, “I want my little nephew’s cock on a platter, and that little whore… in my chambers by the time we finish here, maybe that way, if we send them a set of sheets with my niece’s maidenhead in them, perhaps we will tell the fucking traitors what will happen to them all”

“Take the black, your grace, step down”

“I will kill them, to every last trace of my cunt of a half sister, i will take away the reason for their rebellion, they were be no other contender to the throne but me, and I will marry Cassandra Baratheon, she will give me true, strong heirs, worthy of the Iron Throne” 

“Your grace”, he said slowly. “maybe, telling them of your marriage with the princess, instead of her bloodied sheets would be more effective”, he counseled

“He is right Aegon”, said Alicent softly, “an alliance between the two branches of the family will ease them, and Cregan Stark, when knowing Rhaenyra’s blood will sit on the Iron Throne one day, he will go back North”, she said hopefully, she placed her hand on his son forearm, but he pulled it, rejecting his mother’s touch 

“Bring her to my chambers tonight”, he said to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he didn't like it, but nodded nonetheless without saying anything

“Aegon”, reasoned Alicent, “she is very delicate, and an innocent in all of this”

“Isn’t she the daughter of my whore of a sister?”, he mocked, Alicent said nothing as she played with her fingers nervously, “isn’t she what you called her a thousand times over? a bastard?”

“That doesn’t mean… we will be surrounded”

“Call in Lord Borros then, they will attack the traitors from the back, and killed them against the city walls”, he mocked

“Lord Borros is dead your grace”, said Corlys, playing with the dragon eye in front of him, he then stopped, and look up at him, he found the twisted King looking back at him with a sick smile 

“Right, sometimes I forget”, he said dismissively, he took the chalice of wine next to him and took it to his lips

5 minutes without drinking

A new record 

“the Lannisters then”, he said

“By the time the Lannister piece together the scraps left of their army, our head will be at stakes at the gates of the city”, Lord Corlys debated, Larys Strong only got quiet, looking to the left and to the right, who was next to speak, who was next to loose his temper. It was truly entertaining 

“We hold the city”, he mocked, “we will close the gates and those savages will be scratching their heads, wondering how they could breach the walls, they don’t have siege weapons

“What they have is the rest of the country’s resources, while they starved us to death”, he fought again

“Not if your armada defeats the Arryn’s, as they should”

Then finally, his crazy, deranged eyes stopped at the face of Corlys Velaryon

“I will cut your granddaughter's ear and sent it to Alyn Velaryon, to go and encourage him to fight the fucking traitors”

That was it

“That is not going to be necessary, your grace, Alyn will fight the Arryn fleet, there is no doubt in my mind, I will send word to him personally”

“there shouldn’t be no need”, he snapped, “I am the King!”, he said, pointing to his own chest, “and they are loyal to me, they will fight”, Corlys nodded 

That was it then

They shared looks with Tyland Lannister

His fate was set 

The small council meeting was done, and everyone return to their chambers, it was already the hour of the owl, the Keep was dark, very lighten up, it lost ghostly, like it had been abandoned 

Corlys walked silently to his chambers, as a maid passed by him, he gave her a small sack and nodded, she barely looked at him and walked away

It was sealed 

“Where is the princess?”, he asked the guard posted at her rooms, he shook his head, the Sea Snake barely nodded, “keep her there”, he commanded, and kept walking

He needed his wits, he was going to need every ounce of diplomacy he still held to survive the coming weeks

A pack of wolves was coming

And they were going to ravage every Green that still drew breath

There had never lived a Stark who forgot an oath

Cregan Stark had promised Rhaenyra he was going to raise an army and march south to guard her and destroy her enemies that still were raising arms

Rhaenyra was dead

And yet the wolf was coming to fulfill his promise 

. . .

“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros”, she sang softly, grabbing tightly the small incense in her hand, “Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis”, she kept lighting up the candles, “Hen ñuhā elēnī, Perzyssy vestretis”, she wavered, looking up at the skull of Balerion, “Se gēlȳn irūdaks. Ānogrose, Perzyro udrȳssi”, she moved to the next table, lighting up the small candles one by one, it could be maddening, but she had been here every night, “Ezīmptos laehossi”, she continued, “Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan, Hae mērot gierūli”, she looked up at the huge skull again, hoping, praying for something, like he was going to brought the black dread back to life

“Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī”, she finished the song with a single tear falling down her cheek

“Balerion, Jaes morgho, mazēdas ñuha lentor, sir gūrogon zirȳla, nyke jorepagon syt se morghon hen dārys”

[Balerion, god of death, he took my family, now take him, I pray to you for the death of the Usurper], she whispered 

She looked down at the candles, as she played with her fingers in the small flames, she could feel nothing, her skin didn't melt, unlike her sleeve

“Morghūljagon”, she whispered, extinguishing the flames from a simple blow of her lips 

Die.

[tornadeoqueen]

you make my motor run - refs & research

Hello! My latest fic you make my motor run aka car show rivals au is about Bradley and his Bronco, Hangster flirting as enemies plot and every Dagger owning a vintage Ford. It's a lot about Jake being a little shit but it's also a lot about cars.

This fic, and cars, mean a lot to me! And as such a lot of research went into it. Like, so much research. And it made me very happy and I got very nerdy about it, although I realise and recognise not everyone who (hopefully) reads the fic would know as much about cars as I do, so I thought I would make this post explaining a lot of the details I included, as well as pictures of the cars I assigned each member of the squad.

So, if you're a slut for research like me or interested at all, see more below the cut!

Bradley's Bronco

"My my, a first gen Bronco"

I based the Bronco off a 1971 Ford Bronco, which makes it a First Generation Bronco, which were made between 1966 to 1977. The reason why I went with 1971 is because someone on the classic broncos forum tracked down the actual car used in TG:M on a website called Cinema Vehicles dot com and it's a 1971. A lot of what I describe is based off of this car, and other 1971's I could find.

"...he put in disc brakes, replaced the transmission and ordered in new parts for the engine."

A lot of what Bradley did to his car is based off of what Sydney Sweeney did to get her own Bronco running!

Disc brakes: Bronco's didn't get disc brakes until 1976/77, so Bradley would have had to add them in (replacing the drum brakes which were prone to overheating). They became standard for most cars in the late 70s, as they are more reliable.

Transmission: A car's transmission is also known as the gearbox! Most people will replace the transmission on vintage cars from manual to automatic (which Sydney did) but I wanted to write Bradley as a purist so he kept it a manual. He did replace the transmission though because it was old and rusty after not being used for so long.

"...replaced the suspension and the front and rear axles."

Suspension: This is the system that connects the wheels to the body of the car, and works to regulate shock absorption and the general handling and movement of the car. One of the main components is a big coil that stems from the tyres, if you've seen that before.

Front and Rear axles: shafts that connect the wheels and help with wheel movement.

TBH he probably should have done this before he went anywhere, but I didn't know what other changes to list as part of his "restoration journey" that even I could understand. Lol I'm a hack! Anyway!

What In The World Is Jake Talking About?

“Original paint, two-inch lift, coupla hood scoops, a nice shine on those stock hubcaps… original two-spoke steering wheel with a three on the tree manual transmission – you’re crazy for that, by the way.”

Original Paint: I found this really neat image of the original paint options for 1971 Ford Broncos, and did my best to colour match. There were six blue's and two aqua's available! I am pretty sure we could say Bradley's Bronco is Bahama Blue. I thought I would use this in the fic, but I didn't. Nonetheless, look at this cool graphic!!!

2-inch lift: refers to the lift of the suspension/tyres. Bronco's are built for off-roading so a lot of them have tyre lifts so you can have bigger tyres on them. The cinema vehicle has lifts!

Coupla Hood Scoops: "Coupla" is my way of saying "a couple of" btw. Hood Scoops are the raised portions on the hood of the car with holes in the front, as you can see here:

Hood scoops funnel fresher, cooler air to the engine which can increase power. Some people only have them for decoration. I'm pretty sure these are a modification added and not an original feature, which hurts my Bradley is a Purist head cannon, but I included them in the fic because they are in the movie! I like to think maybe they were added in because Jake kept making digs at the car's lack of power. Or Goose did it! Who knows!

Stock hubcaps: Refers to the original hubcaps that come with the car. I don't think the cinema vehicle has them, but I found another '71 Bronco that does and I just think they look nice! Who doesn't love a bit of chrome?

"...two-spoke steering wheel with a three on the tree manual transmission."

Original two-spoke steering wheel:

Three on the tree manual transmission: Ok I'm gonna be honest, I know I'm showing off when I say "three on the tree" because what the hell, but also, if car enthusiasts know what it is, Jake would say it! I found out about it while watching an episode of Jay Leno's Garage on YouTube (I watched a lot of these during my research) and they kept talking about the "three on the tree" in this '77 "original stock Bronco" and I was like wth is that? Googled it, and it refers to the 3-gear column shift! The column shift is the silver lever you see behind the wheel, which is the gear shift. Bradley keeps his car a manual so he, like the guy in the video who also keeps his original, would keep the three on the tree.

Jake say's he's crazy for it because automatic's are so much easier to drive, and also 3 gears is not a lot so I doubt it can go very fast.

For those interested, there are numerous YouTube videos about how to drive with the three on the tree (I watched at least two).

“Pristine white bucket seats..."

Bucket seats: are the style of seats used in the front seats that I guess have a bucket shape? Anyway he calls them "pristine" because you an imagine what a bitch it is to keep white vinyl looking nice.

Restoration vs Restomod:

I touch a little bit on this, but if you want to read more, Velocity Restorations have a good overview of the debate (Velocity build restomods for clients. If I ever win the lottery, there'd be signs... ect)

Bradley screams "car purist" to me, and I originally had a line about him having a Coyote V8 engine, which is a popular new-build engine used to update old Bronco's, but I cut it last minute because I don't think I could do that to him, haha. The man drives a Bronco, first of all, and the moustache and his Dad's glasses and the Great Balls of Fire of it all... a purist!

Jake, however, likes power, he likes technology and making the car the best it can be. I like to think he actually worked on the restomod himself (with the begrudging help of Bradley, I'm gonna be honest when I say I'm still working out what their origin story is) rather than buy it. But having the '68 Shelby, arguably one of the coolest cars on the market, and also kind of pushing it in terms of power and ability (and comfort and modern amenities) is like a cool project for him. He is very proud of his car but don't say he doesn't have any respect for vintage cars! This isn't just a status symbol (although he knows it's hot as hell) but constantly evolving project.

Jake's 1968 Ford Mustang

Jake has a 1968 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 fastback in all black. The Shelby used to be a race car but then people were like hey, I want one. 1968 was the first year the Shelby Mustang was actually built by the Ford Motor Company (instead of by Shelby). Fastback refers to the coupe type, indicated by the angle of the back window (as opposed to a convertible or sedan)

photos might not be exact same model/make (I think they are supposed to have GT stripes?) so don't come for me. But you get the vibe!

Javy's 1976 Bronco Explorer

I don't have any specific reason for the rest of the gang's cars, other than, I saw them and it felt right!

Bob's 1980s Fairmont Wagon

You either get it or you don't, but Bob get's it!

Nat's 1964 Ford Mustang Convertible

Candy Apple Red is an official and original Ford Mustang paint colour so that's important. Based her car off one I saw for sale. And yes! The Palomino interior makes me drool, look how nice that is!

Mickey's 1970 Ford Escort

Ok so, Ford Escorts were actually a Ford Europe/UK car until the 80s, so this would have to be an import. I really wanted to give him one, though, for some reason, and then when I realised the car from Fast 6 is a Ford Escort (and the colours match his Fanboy helmet!) I was like, sold! Fanboy always and forever.

Reuben's Car ????

I actually couldn't decide! He really stumped me! I'm thinking maybe an F-Series pick up? Other thoughts included Fairmont sedan, a Fairlane, a Torino or Thunderbird, but I think at least one of them needs a truck and the more I think about it, the more I like it for him. But I'm feeling very "Reuben Fitch... who is your hit man?" about it. If you have any thoughts, please let me know!

If you made it this far, congrats! I hope this was as fun and interesting for you as it was for me! And if you haven't yet, check out my hangster car fic you make my motor run on ao3 <3

And if you ever want to talk about cars, or want to write your own car fic, please please please please please please please please

[lucy90712]

English love affair- Fermin Lopez

A/n: yes this is loosely based on the 5sos song I remembered it existed recently and haven't stopped listening to it 

Fermin's POV

It's always fun getting to visit a new country especially to play football but I've never known somewhere to be as rainy as England or London specifically. It's done nothing but rain since we landed but still the boys insisted we go out and explore as we have some free time they quickly regretted it when our umbrellas all turned inside out in the wind so we all decided to just go and get some lunch and watch the busy London streets from somewhere dry. The place we ended up in because it was close was actually rather nice and it was quiet too with just a few other table none of which seemed to pay any mind to us which hopefully means they don't know who we are. 

Once we were sat down one of the other groups caught my eye it was a group of girls who looked around my age. It wasn't just the girls that caught my eye it was one of them in particular I don't know what it was about her but I couldn't take my eyes off her she isn't my usual type but she is just so strikingly beautiful it's hard not to admire her. As soon as I noticed her I didn't stop staring which I know is creepy but the way she smiled and laughed with her friends was just so mesmerising. Out of all places to meet such a beautiful girl a tiny restaurant in the middle of London is not what I expected but I'm not going to complain. 

"Hey are you still with us bro" gavi elbowed me 

"Yeah yeah" I replied not looking at him 

"What have we been talking about for the last 10 minutes then?" Pedri asked 

"The game" I guessed 

"You know it's creepy just to stare at that girl right" Joao said 

"I'm not staring" I lied finally taking my eyes off her 

"You so are" Pedri said 

"Has fermin found love at first sight" Gavi teased 

"Stop it guys she'll hear you" I whisper yelled at them 

"Surely you want her to hear us there's no point just staring at her if you don't say something you'll never see her again" Joao said 

His logic was sound I can't lie. There is no point admiring her from afar if I don't say anything I'll never see her again and if she rejects me well then I don't have to face her again which would hopefully make it easier to take. That makes it sound simple but it's not that straightforward I'm not the best at talking to girls I never know what to say like do I just introduce myself do I compliment them it's all so complicated and I never seen to get it right. Of course in this situation there is the added problem of the language barrier I speak English pretty well but I don't know if I know enough to have a conversation with her and sometimes accents complicate things. It's a lot to think about but there isn't really time to think about it as she could leave at any time and I need to have something to say. 

For the rest of lunch all the boys kept trying to give me pointers on what to say some of which were serious but most were jokes. They also tried to find her Instagram for me but they were entirely unsuccessful which didn't surprise me as we don't even know her name but they tried nonetheless. While they talked among themselves I noticed that she was finally getting up to leave and as if it was meant to be her friends all left her so I had no reason not to take my chance. I was going to get up and talk to her but the boys pushed me out of my seat before I could get up and told me not to come back until I'd spoken to her. I approached her as she turned to leave her table and we locked eyes for the first time and I nearly froze but I didn't I kept walking towards her. 

"Hi I'm Fermin sorry if this is too forward but I thought you were really pretty and wanted to introduce myself" I said 

"Thank you Fermin I'm y/n" she said 

"I know this seems a lot but I'm only here for a few days so would you want to go and get coffee or something as long as you're free" I said 

"That sounds great I have the rest of today off as long as you are available" she said 

"Great you might have to guide me on where to go if you couldn't tell I'm not from here" I joked 

"I have the perfect place to go" she said 

With that we left together and I texted the boys telling them I'll pay them back for my part of the bill later. As we walked wherever she wanted to go we got to know each other a bit more she told me that she was in fact my age and that she's still in university studying psychology but she's on a break which is why she's out with friends during the day. I told her a bit more about myself but I didn't tell her exactly why I was here because I want to get to know her more before I tell her that I play football because that can really change how girls act around me. I'd love to believe that she wouldn't be like that but you never know there's girls I've met before that I thought wouldn't be so obsessed with my career but they were although I do think y/n is different. 

She took us down a few backstreets before we reached this cafe which only had two other people in it which was perfect. As soon as we entered the lady running the place came over to ask y/n how her studying had been going and she offered us our drinks on the house but y/n insisted on paying. If I didn't already like her that interaction only confirmed my thought that she was just truly a lovely person and that's something I find really attractive in a girl. We sat in a quiet corner of the cafe and sipped our drinks but mostly we just didn't stop talking. I've never had such a connection with someone before, it sounds like such a cliche but we really got on like a house on fire instantly. She's really just perfect I've never found someone I love everything about from the moment I met them but that's how I feel with y/n, every good quality you would want she has she's kind, patient and not to mention absolutely beautiful. 

After finishing our drinks and getting to know each other we both had to leave I'm supposed to  eat with the team for dinner and she had to do some studying but luckily her place is on the way to my hotel so we got to walk together. However the walk wasn't very long and before I knew it we had to say goodbye. I didn't want this to be the last time we see each other so I just kind of blurred out that I'm here to play football and invited her to the game. Naturally she had a few questions but I answered them and she agreed to come to the game tomorrow which is how I got her number so I could text her all the details she would need. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

With my week off from uni I expected to see some friends and just unwind a bit but instead I ended up going out with a guy and not just any guy a Barcelona player who is playing a match in the champions league today and invited me to go. To say I'm nervous would be an understatement, I've never been to a football match before let alone been invited by a player so I have no idea what to expect. All I do know is that I'm really excited to see Fermin again he's such a nice guy and incredibly attractive plus we connected really well so it would've been a shame if we only saw each other once before he had to go back to Barcelona. 

Last night I did so much googling to learn as much about football and Fermin's team as possible I don't know how much I retained but I tried my best. Something I definitely did remember was that this was an important match for the team so they will really want to win and I really hope they do because I'd love to see Fermin happy. I also realised that football was a lot more popular than I thought as Barcelona had over 120 million followers on Instagram and Fermin had over 2 million. Knowing how popular Fermin and the team were did make me anxious because I have less than 50 followers and a private account which I'm fine with because I don't like the attention but I think Fermin is worth the possible complete change in my life. 

Time went by so quickly today before I knew it I was supposed to be getting ready to leave which meant deciding what to wear. The obvious choice would be a Barcelona shirt but I don't own one so I can't do that instead I just put on some blue jeans and a red top so I was close enough to wearing the Barcelona colours. I did some simple makeup and did my hair but that was all I had time for as I had to get to the stadium and find my seat before the start of the match. 

Getting to the stadium actually wasn't too bad but I got so lost trying to find my seat as Fermin didn't get me just any ticket he got me a vip ticket which meant I had a really good seat but it was hard to find the right entrance. Once I found my seat I was offered drinks and all sorts of other things but I just wanted to sit there as I was feeling really nervous all of a sudden. Everyone else in the vip section was very clearly either important people or wives/girlfriends of the players which made me feel a little out of place. Everyone had designer clothes on their hair done all nicely and perfect makeup and there I was in clothes I've owned for years with barely anything done to my appearance. Most of them were also speaking Spanish which I have a basic understanding of but I couldn't make out a word they were saying so I just kept to myself. 

The match was very intense which I think was made worse for me because I didn't really know what was going on but it ended up in a Barcelona win which really made me happy. All of the players celebrated in front of the fans before finally leaving the pitch which was my cue to find my way down to the locker room as Fermin told me to meet him down there after the game. I saw some of the other girls from my section of seats heading a certain way so I just followed them and luckily they were going the right way and I found where I needed to be. I text Fermin to tell him I was there whenever he was ready but seconds after I sent the text he was coming out the door with the biggest smile on his face which made me smile even more. He ran straight over to me and gave me a hug clearly still high on adrenaline but it loved it. As he pulled away he gave me a kiss on the cheek which made me blush so hard I probably looked like a clown. 

"Congrats you guys were so good out there" I said 

"Thank you did you enjoy the game?" He asked 

"Yeah it was a bit confusing but the atmosphere was amazing" I answered honestly 

"That just means I'll have to see you again and explain the rules" he smirked 

"I might need more than one lesson the offside rule seems a bit confusing" I joked 

"I wish I could spend more time with you but we leave tomorrow morning" he said 

"But if it's ok with you I'd love to walk you home so we can spend more time together" he added 

"I'd really like that" I said 

He had to go back to the team for a bit but he gave me a water bottle and an apple incase I was hungry which made me laugh but I appreciated him caring so much about me. He wasn't gone that long but when he came back a few of his teammates followed him so he introduced me to them quickly as they wanted to meet me. They were all so sweet that it actually made me even more sad that they were all leaving and this little fling or whatever it is I have with Fermin will be over. We are lucky to have a bit more time together even if it is just the walk back to my place I will take all the time I can get. 

Fermin took my hand and we walked back to my place together very slowly so we could have more time together. As we walked it became darker and colder outside until it started to rain which is very typically England it always rains at the worst times. I did bring an umbrella but that lasted less than a minute in the wind so we were getting soaked but I didn't care at all I'd stand out here forever if I was with Fermin. He seemed to feel the same as neither of us walked any quicker we just accepted the fact that we were going to get wet and it was worth it. Eventually we made to right outside my apartment building and it was time for us to say our final goodbyes and I can't lie I felt tears in my eyes. It feels somewhat stupid to be so attached to someone I just met but we just had an instant connection and I don't want to let it go just yet. 

"I can't believe how much I don't want to leave you right now" Fermin said 

"I really don't want you to leave either" I said 

"I know we are both busy but promise me that we will try and keep in contact and if it doesn't work then it doesn't work but I can't let you go like this" Fermin said 

"I promise I'm not going to give up on this" I said 

"Can I kiss you?" he asked 

All I did was nod which was enough for Fermin as he leant in and pressed his lips to mine. We were both freezing from the rain but I felt so much warmer when his lips met mine which told me that our connection as new as it is is very real. I've never felt like this when kissing anyone before let alone a first kiss which I think is the universes way of telling me that I've met someone special and to not give up on this without a fight. We kissed for a bit longer before we both pulled away and just stared at each other with our foreheads connected until we couldn't just stand there anymore. Fermin gave me one last kiss and promised he'd text me tomorrow before leaving to head back to his hotel leaving me to go inside and come to terms with all of the millions of feelings I had running through me.

~~~~~~~~~~

2 years later 

Just last week I submitted my dissertation and finished my degree it has been a hard few years but I'm proud of myself for doing it. The big changes in my life don't end there though as not only have I put a big part of my life behind me but I'm moving to a completely new country. Fermin and I have been together for nearly 2 years now and today is the day I finally move in with him in his place in Barcelona. The road to get here has been long but it all feels worth it Nke that I'm going to get to see him in person everyday not over the phone. 

Our relationship hasn't been normal in any way in fact our first date was over FaceTime and we started dating before we even had our first kiss as he asked me to be his girlfriend over FaceTime too. There has been lots of ups and downs and there has been times we have nearly broken up as we were so stressed with other things which affected our relationship but we made it. It feels like the hard part of our relationship is over and from now on I feel like it will be plain sailing. We have always had a special connection from the second we met but that really comes alive when we get to be together in person so getting to live together and be there for each other everyday is going to be so amazing. 

As much as I love Fermin with my whole heart deciding to move to Barcelona wasn't an easy decision. My whole life has always been in England like my friends and my family and I wasn't sure if I was ready to let go of all that and completely start my new life. Fermin was so supportive as well as I made my decision he told me if I needed to move back home for a bit longer to find myself outside of education then he would support that. Ultimately I decided that it was time for me to take the leap and discover who I am with him as I want him to always be part of my life so we decided we'd move in together which it some might seem risky but we know each other so well that neither of us thought it would be a problem. 

Preparing to move has been quite stressful as I've been shipping my things to Fermin so that I only have to bring some things with me on the plane but now I'm ready to go all I feel is excitement. Sitting on the plane sending my last text to Fermin before I land and we get to be together forever felt amazing but strange at the same time the long distance chapter of our relationship is finally coming to an end. The entirety of the flight all I thought about was all the things we can finally do now that we get to spend more time together like we can go on weekend trips if he has time off or spontaneous midweek dates and even just the things regular couples do together. 

Coming through the doors into the arrivals area Fermin was waiting there for me, he spotted me in seconds and we just ran towards each other. His arms wrapped around my waist as he engulfed me in the tightest hug I've ever experienced he held me so tight that he lifted my feet off the floor which he took to his advantage and spun me round. Once he finally put me down his lips were attached to mine almost instantly and we shared what I think was the best kiss we've ever had. 

"I'm so glad you're finally here and our lives together can finally begin" he said 

"I can't wait to see what the future holds" I said  

[yamayuandadu]

I'm trying to research the historical syncretism between Ishtar and Anahita (turns out the Alireza Qaderi article I sent wasn't that good on the Iranian sources part either lol) and I've noticed soooo much of this stuff quotes outdated Assyriology, such as "Anahita: Ancient Persian Goddess and Zoroastrian Yazata", which considers Ishtar to be a "virgin mother", quoting sources from the 1960s. Are there any good sources on Ishtar/Anahita syncretism that aren't outdated? Or am I outta luck? lol

I’m afraid that the short answer is that, yeah, there isn’t really much to depend on. Long answer with some reading recommendations under the cut.

A pretty huge problem with evaluating the nature of the connection between Anahita and virtually any other figure (maybe barring Artemis in Anatolia) is that it seems the full reckoning with the fact that for most of the twentieth century researchers basically treated her as a wastebasket (a phenomenon already criticized in the 1980s) had yet to come. Generally speaking, I so far failed to find any work which would convince me there’s no reason to follow Shenkar’s warning: “It is an oft-repeated convention that Achaemenian Anāhitā was influenced by the cult and the visual representation of (...) Ištar. However, the evidence for such influence is not compelling and for the most part, late and indirect” (Intangible Spirits and Graven Images, p. 68). He doesn’t rule -some- sort of influence, but points out that if it happened, it must have ocurred later than in the Achaemenid period, and should not be automatically treated as full on acquisition of ex. one’s iconography by the other. As an example of faulty reasoning he singles out the frequent claims that the Ishtar-ish goddess on a lion depicted on a seal from Gorgippia (who is not labeled in any way) is necessarily Anahita just because her clothing is distinctly Iranian, even though she was never associated with this animal. I agree with his conclusion that it might plausibly be Nanaya, or even an uncommon but not unparalleled instance of dedication to Ishtar proper in a (largely) Iranian context (Intangible Spirits…, p. 68-69). As I understand, the Gorgippia seal is particularly commonly cited to claim influence of Ishtar on Anahita; but then the identification of the goddess on it boils down to “since it is known that they were associated, it HAS to be Anahita”. Seems like a severe case of circular reasoning.

It might be worth noting that late antique Mandaic sources - which are generally relatively reliable as far as texts involving demonization of neighbors’ deities go - do mention (demonized) Anahita, but make no reference to her having anything to do with Ishtar (same goes for Nanaya). Meanwhile, the Neo-Assyrian Mullissu-Ishtar syncretism does get a shoutout in an exorcistic formula referring to a demon described as “the Istarte who sits on the bank of the Euphrates and calls herself Mulit” (Christa Müller-Kessler, Interrelations between Mandaic Lead Rolls and Incantation Bowls in: Mesopotamian Magic: Textual, Historical and Interpretative Perspectives, p. 207-208). While I haven’t seen this category of sources discussed in relation to the phenomenon you’ve asked about, I think it would be a promising fresh approach to try to place them in a broader context of Mesopotamian-Iranian acculturation. Hopefully we’ll see such publications at some point. For what it’s worth, it does seem that at least from the 2010s on there's been a slow shift towards avoiding treating Anahita as some sort of wastebasket. Accepting that art might depict other female supernatural figures, or even ordinary women, is becoming more common (see ex. Matteo Compareti, Armenian Pre-Christian Divinities: Some Evidence from the History of Art and Archaeological Investigation, p. 196-198). The wastebasket trend is nonetheless not dead, I am afraid. While looking for additional sources for this reply, I had the questionable pleasure to be exposed to Christopher I. Beckwith’s The Scythian Empire (p. 270-271, to be specific) where he somehow tries to connect Anahita with… Shaushka…? He seems unaware that in Mitanni context the theonym Ishtar is a logogram and refers to a completely different deity, who never had anything to do with Anahita, and as a matter of fact ceased to be worshiped before Iranians even showed up in Mesopotamia. It didn’t surprise me to learn Beckwith is controversial at best, to be fair, given that this weird romp is part of an attempt to prove that Zoroaster’s name is theophoric and invokes Ishtar? This rests on high grade mental gymnastics - somehow Mitanni ruled over the Medes, you see (the easternmost dependency of Mitanni, Arrapha, was largely Hurrian-speaking and the part not covered under “largely” was, rather obviously, not related to the Medes), and thus... "Ishtar" (once again, actually Shaushka) was equated with Anahita... Seems pretty bold to connect Anahita’s development with a deity who wasn’t even worshiped anymore by the time any speakers of Iranian whatsoever pop up in the textual record and who has virtually no overlapping traits with her.

Critical comments aside, I think two specific cases of possible Mesopotamian influence of Anahita can be nonetheless pointed out.

As noted in Encyclopedia Iranica, it’s sensible to assume that the shift towards referring to Anahita as “the lady” (bānū) which must have started in the Parthian period and remained widespread at least up to early Islamic times, with the bulk of attestations being Sasanian, reflects an influence of Mesopotamian terminology. This is not actually exclusive to her, though, it seems - the same title is also attested for Spenta Armaiti (Alexander W. Marcus, Demons in Early Judaism and Christianity. Characters and Characteristics, p. 249). In other words, it’s probably safe to say we are dealing with an example of broader Iranian-Mesopotamian acculturation (perhaps with some sort of Elamite involvement too - though I am not sure if zana was actually anywhere near as common of a designation as bēlet), as opposed to a direct association developing between Anahita and a specific deity.

The other case would be the astronomical/astrological side of Anahita. It is generally assumed that the traditional assignment of names of Anahita, Ahura Mazda, Tir and Bahram to, respectively, Venus, Jupiter, Mercury and Mars reflected the influence of Mesopotamian astronomy. The fact that the name of Saturn, Kewan, is an Akkadian loanword definitely supports this assumption (Antonio Panaino, A Walk Through the Iranian Heavens. For a History of an Unpredictable Dialogue between Nonspherical and Spherical Models, p. 142). - the “godless” planet (the original Kayyamanu is not a theonym) likewise doesn’t get a yazata assigned to it. However, this once again might very well just reflect a broader pattern of acculturation - not some specific link between Anahita and Ishtar. In this case at the very least there would be a potential parallel in Tir/Tishtrya (which we talked about before) -  though on the other hand I don’t think Nergal had any impact whatsoever on Bahram (Nergal did likely acquire Iranian elements in Hatra, though), and I’m not sure if Ahura Mazda necessarily acquired any traits specifically from Marduk as opposed to another pantheon head like Humban or even Zeus (who at least was used as an iconographic model for him very commonly; Intangible Spirits…, p. 61). Furthermore, I think it’s up for debate if this really proves a connection between Anahita and Ishtar, as opposed to Anahita and the purely astronomical Dilbat - who could be a representation of Ishtar but didn’t have to. 

While I can’t really recommend a specific study dealing with the influence itself, the astronomical aspect of Anahita - and more broadly the position of planets in Zoroastrian and more broadly Iranian beliefs - does have a fair share of solid publications, and would probably be the best direction for further reading. Panaino’s book listed above is a good start, but his (much shorter) Planets article in the Encyclopedia Iranica is really solid too (and even mentions the elusive second Zoroastrian Venus, the explicitly demonic Xišm). Final digression: it probably helps the average quality of relevant studies that less speculation is required. Sources make it abundantly clear the astronomical aspect was integral to the understanding of Anahita’s character over… much of the world, really - from Spain to China. You could go as far as call it primary in some cases! Even though she is very sparsely attested in Sogdia, Naxie (那頡), a derivative of Nāxid, the Sogdian form of her name, appears in the Qiyao Rangzai Jue (七曜攘災決; “Secrets of Seven-Planet Apotropaism”), a ninth century Buddhist astrological compendium, as a designation of Venus (Jeffrey Kotyk, Buddhist Astrology and Astral Magic in the Tang Dynasty, p. 170). On the other end of Eurasia, her name appears in the Picatrix in the same context, though there we are apparently dealing with an Arabic transliteration of the Persian form, then adapted into Latin as “Anyhyt” (Buddhist Astrology…, p. 171-172). Ironically, you probably can make a case for it being the most well known characteristic of her even though it has little to do with her Avestan role and, arguably, her royal cult which elevated her to a position of prominence compared to other yazatas in the first place..

[lets-try-some-writing]

Getting more information on what the femmes do was very exciting (idk if that's the right word) but if it's not a spoiler I would love to hear more about the process when a femme finishes the preparations

(And it makes sense, find someone insignificant and reuse them to make someone new, someone potentially more useful)

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #007 Cold Forged

[Statement taken from [Redacted] on [Redacted: Sensitive data] regarding femmes and what they do to their chosen subjects. Concerns have been rising after [Redacted] made it clear that Arcee can latch onto humans just as easily as she can another Cybertronian. Personnel working at the Autobot base have begun attempting to go on strike in an effort to escape.

I can't say I blame them, but [Redacted] was called to explain the process that femmes put their targets through to hopefully give us some answers. I suspect the higher ups just want enough information to weave a half baked like for the staff, but the information is vital nonetheless. The more we know, the better a chance we have of fighting back if need be.

Statement begins.]

══════════════════

Femmes... yeah, I've known a few over the course of my life. Elita was one real piece of work. She wanted Orion when she was still Ariel, and she threw a fit when the Archives got him before she could. She wanted Optimus as well once she found out he had been Orion at some point. She nearly got him too. I think the only reason Optimus managed to get out of her clutches was because of his rather murderous tendencies. I don't know if he meant to or not, but he allowed Elita to try and claim him and then watched on as her abilities backfired.

There is a reason femmes only target the weak. If their will cannot overcome the will of the target, their abilities will kill them instead... and in a rather brutal fashion.

It was a shame. Elita, when she wasn't enthralled with her targets, was a good femme. She treated her cold forged well and was a brilliant tactician. She actually kept Optimus in line for a long time. She ensured he couldn't do anything nearly as extreme as what he does now. That's the good thing about femmes. They are good and kind to their targets. They fill the void in the bot's life that no other could have ever hoped to fill. It is a peaceful end for a mech that would otherwise be cast away by society. Elita was the companion Optimus needed, a level helmed and gentle being who served as his equalizer when his plans demanded more pain than required. I appreciated her for that, especially when I served as as a special agent-

Ignore that remark. No. Ignore it.

Do you understand me Witwicky? You will ignore that remark.

[Note: [Redacted] expressed a severe violent reaction the moment I made it clear that I had no intention of adhering to his wishes. He only calmed when he watched me scratch it from the records. Of course I added back the redacted information following the conversation, but [Redacted] has things he wants to hide it seems.]

Good.

As I was saying, Elita was a fantastic person. Femmes are more than capable of being normal members of society when they are tended to. In fact, they are even worshipped in some circles and given the lowly members of society so that they may be remade. But Elita aimed too high, she went beyond the bounds set by the rules of femmes. She tried to go after a mech who was too strong, and for that reason, she fell.

Femmes are of the line of Solus Prime, the first femme created by Primus. At least that's what the Primacy will tell you. I'm not all that sure on the theological stuff, but there are records pointing to the fact that Solus existed. Because of that, I am willing to pin the femmes existence back to her. I don't know all the details about the first femme. That's the kind of thing you'd need to ask Orion about. He always loved talking about the theological details of history. He always got so passionate about it...

Sometimes... I forget Orion isn't here to answer anymore. I mean, he is, but he also isn't. But that's beside the point. This isn't my forte. Sorry, its just seeing Optimus so often after so many millennia, it can bring back old memories yanno? I will get back on topic.

No one knows what makes a newspark become a femme. In fact, there are no signs at all until the newspark sheds their second armor set. They behave just like every other Cybertronian, and then sometime in their early adolescence, they start following a specific individual around. Usually their first target is someone very old or very young, the weak of society or those without enough knowledge to fight back. Once the femme has picked, that's when the Council steps in and slaps a sticker on them to denote what they are. The poor target is cut off from everyone and left to the femme. Why? Because the first target is always the one who suffers the most.

Femmes are highly territorial. They will never aid one another unless both their targets are in danger and cooperating is in their best interest. So every young femme is on her own, left to figure things out as she ages. For young femmes, they will pick their victims apart. There is no peace to be found as they sink their connectors into their target to try and tear apart their CNA and remake it. The process kills the target without fail. A more experienced femme knows that she must follow a ritual, a process of sorts. She must know her target, she must care for her target, and only once her target is open to her... only then can she dig her claws in and remake them.

Yes, yes I am getting to the actual process now. Calm down. I swear you fleshies are just as impatient as Cyberfelines sometimes.

First she will get to know her target and release a chemical, a pheromone as your kind call it. This chemical causes the target to become calm, more trusting, and it also weakens their immune system. It has some benefits, such as increased processor function and heightened senses, but all this comes at the cost of increasing weakness. Not to mention the increase in processor activity is largely so that the femme may attract her target's attention and push them into seeing her in a light that best fits what role she is aiming to fulfill until the time for harvest arrives.

Around a vorn into her work, the femme will start to introduce her coils, her touches if you will. She will start to touch her target as often as she can, and it is through this that small injectors in her digits will begin to input a specially made protomatter into her target. The target will feel no pain since the injections are so small. But over months, years, vorns... slowly her target will start to think less, feel less, until at last they start to collapse.

Femmes are not needlessly cruel in their efforts. She will be very gentle with her target in their dying cycles. When they begin to forget, she will remind them of the things they lost. She will help them fuel, she will take them places they enjoy, and she will allow them ample time to deal with their lingering affairs. Any living relatives will not be compensated, but that is because she sees her work as the greatest compensation any being could possibly receive. She is remolding the worthless into something greater, and for that reason she is both compelled to her work just as much as she heralds it as something sacred. It is her nature to be gentle in this stage, for by that point, her target will be carrying the beginnings of her cold forged, her perfect creation.

There is no set time for it, but at some point in this final stage, the femme will continue her injections of protomatter and her quiet indoctrination until finally, her target shatters. This can take various forms, usually some type of explosion or contortion of the frame, but the end result is always the same. The target dies, and from their corpse, a new being emerges. Much like a newspark, it emerges without armor, but unlike the newsparks from the Well, it will come forth with memory and a mission.

We call these things the Cold Forged. They are beings that completely lack emotion. Or perhaps the ability to empathize. It is hard to tell with them. They all seem to take sick glee in watching others squirm. But anyway, the Cold Forged have a purpose that their femme gave them, and most often, they do not care to reveal it. Those that have felt like giving up data have often been given a mission that amounts to a concept, a thought or ideal. The most common mission these beings receive is by far the most terrifying.

Perfection.

They are given one concept, and they live out their entire lives embodying and striving to reach it. The Cold Forged are Cybertronian by every single stretch of the word, but they are not... like us. Does that make sense? My kind do not really do the empathy thing. But they have SOMETHING. The Cold Forged don't even have that. They are true machines.

You know what's so funny about this whole thing?

The femmes don't even care about their Cold Forged. They make them, and then they move along to the next target. The Cold Forged are the closest any Cybertronian has to actually having a biological creation, and the femmes don't care!

[Note: [Redacted] laughed for a rather long time following this statement. He seemed to be... unstable while speaking on this matter.]

Sorry about that.

It's just, it feels so clinical to me even millennia after learning about the process. These femmes go through so much effort just to make a creature that they then throw away. Elita was a rare exception in this regard. She liked to keep tabs on her Cold Forged, and I think one of hers even ended up with the Elite Guard. Her missions to her Cold Forged were always super specialized too.

Yeah. Femmes. Cold Forged. It's a hot mess I tell you.

Jack will be fine. Arcee will care for him as best she knows how until his dying day. That much you can be sure of.

══════════════════

[Statement end.

I am unsure how to feel about all this. Every detail I gather about these aliens tells me that there is something deeply wrong with them. I have my theories, but considering [Redacted]'s disposition and what info we have on everyone else, I think I can say that this race has been altered somehow. If [Redacted] is able to comprehend empathy, there must be others.

They are capable of feeling and being reasonable, but there is some factor that changes things for them. I shouldn't get involved...

But I want to know. I want to figure this mess out. I am just one man, but if I can put some pieces together, then perhaps there is something we can do to fix this. If nothing else, I want to understand these aliens. I want to know why.

Why start a war? Why do all this? And why in God's name would they shatter in such a way culturally? There must be an answer, and I have a sinking feeling that the only ones who can give me answers are going to be very dangerous.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

[miss3d-messages]

YELLOWJACKETS SEASON 3 NEW TRAILER AND WHAT I FOUND INTERESTING IN IT!!

maybe I'm just crazy but which one of the girls was narrating the first bit??? is it shauna??? it sounds a bit like her, but could it possibly be a different character or just a side character we haven't gotten that much info on from the first and second season??

mari doing the pit girl run along with the panting afterwards has me... VERY scared... like she had a white dress on and everything there is absolutely no way that can mean anything good...

the chanting??? like the buzz chant in it from the first ep has me THINKING... as well as that the specfic characters doing it are: akilah, van, misty, and... 2 other girls which i err can NOT make out sorgy on that one.... all i know is they both have dark long hair. but this scene def makes me think they'll start splitting into groups of some kind.

as much as i don't.... love coach or anything, the scene where he's gazing at the wired noose is certainly worrying to say the least.

JACKIE GHOST!!!! i think we all..... very much knew she would be coming back with how the people on the yellowjackets panel answered the question of, "will jackie come back in season 3??" but nonetheless, still so excited and can't WAITTT to see her as a ghost...

NO EYED WOMAN AND TAIVAN!?!?! so happy we r getting more taissa backstory oh my godddd.... i KNOW the eye woman will be important to the story or the lore in some way this season. ok. mark my words i swear.... as for taivan; I do love them but.... im so so worried about how their relationship will go. Sure, its cute in the plane crash timeline, but it very much seems like it could get reallllyyy messy back in the adult timeline.

a new blackmail plot???? kinda nervous with how it'll go considering the last blackmail plot..... excited, since now we have all the survivors (hopefully....) going through it, so it'll certainly turn out far differently than before. Gonna be so mad if its ANOTHERR survivor i swear.....

MISTY INVESTIGATING... SOMEWHERE??? don't have enough context clues for this one, but, and this is just heh. a bit of a theory. but it looks eerily similar to the underground area lottie in the plane crash timeline keeps seeing.

"You're not in charge anymore." so... we can clearly see shauna isn't taking not becoming the antler queen great... however!!! we still aren't certain that nat is the antler queen. there are hopefully gonna be 5 seasons, after all.

MISTY STABBING SOMEONE HELLO!?!?!? from the clothes and the hair and overall the side features, I think it could be shauna. No other clues, but from misty burning the picture of everyone at the reunion to.... well. trying to possibly stab shauna, it could possibly be related to nat, considering just from christina's interview about misty she has said she is certainly taking it the hardest.

walter seeing.... something?? so far he's only really been associated with misty, and characters who are.... strictly associated and talk the most to one certain character in yellowjackets usually.... err. don't turn out the best, is all I'm saying!!!

we've been seeing a LOT of the girl with long blonde hair in the newest trailer that got introduced in season 2. One shot of shauna talking, with her in frame, and another with a knife against her throat. I definitely could see her playing a much bigger role in season 3.

shauna being pulled underwater?? Possibly more evidence that there IS an actual super natural force in the forest?? Or another hunt????

LASTLY.... who is that girl in the final scene???? Is the the blonde side character I talked abt 2 paragraphs ago??? Literally no other evidence on her so I have no clue whatsoever.

that is it ok baiiii :3

[nixie-writes]

Hopefully a simple request, just something I've not seen a lot off but understandably so. Any chance for a romantic/fluff Velvette x male reader where she's somehow developed feelings for them and wants to admit/show them? To clarify I'm not asking for smut with it.

-Velvette, as we know, is a big fan of fashion. She practically made the industry in Hell, and as she said herself, her influence on the internet makes her the "backbone" of the V's.

-so, if she caught feelings for someone, and she wanted to pursue them, she would start by promoting them on her Instagram. She'd boost their posts on Twitter, retweet selfies saying something like "damn [Y/N] looking good! But I can hook you up with a better style."

-and so the trap was laid. She DM'd you where to meet her and you arrived a little late because of traffic at this hour but you made it nonetheless. Velvette was doing everything in her power to look calm and collected but inside she was fearful. What if you denied her feelings and told her to never do anything to boost them again?

-clearing her throat after you explained the traffic situation, she offered you a couple bags of clothes from her designer brand. At least $500 worth of clothes.

-taking a deep breath Velvette began to speak. "Look, don't make this a scene or anythin' but I like you, for more than your looks. I think together we'd make a great team, with me as the social product and you behind the scenes." I get the feeling that she's pretty logistical about work, unlike Vox or Valentino. "So, I guess what I'm doin' is... Making a romantic proposal of sorts. Will you be my partner?"

-she held out her hand to you, offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You knew you'd been following her for a long time and you really liked her as well, so what was there to lose? You took her hand and shook it firmly. "There's no one I'd rather spend my afterlife with," you replied.

[an-actual-attack-helicopter]

Book 6, Episode 1: Startouched Analysis/Commentary

Gotta love how it opens with Ripples in the water reflecting the stars. Go read the short stories if you don't know what I'm talking about.

Aaravos hesitates before crumbling Viren which is the funniest shit to me. This hurts more though, having seen the whole season.

Gotta love how Terry basically said Viren just ran away to go die like an angsty teen.

He got a new son to orphan les goooo

I find the framing of this pretty interesting. Viren is still in the dark while Claudia is standing in the light. You'd think it'd be the other way around. Perhaps it symbolizes how he has come to terms with his dark side, and is going to face it. While he leaves Claudia who, hopefully, can still be redeemed. Because ultimately this isn't her fault, it's his. He's the dark one.

At first I thought it was cruel for Viren to leave Claudia, but I've come to a realization. Claudia is better off without him. He is the reason she's done all this, and nothing will change if she keeps having to save him. She needs to let go. I'm not sure if this was intentional on Viren's part, but he made the right choice nonetheless.

Man, what is it with this show and blindfolds? So far they have showed up in Harrow's little flashback speech, on the Celestial elves, and here. Is this anything??

I was expecting to be annoyed by the baitlings' presence in this season, but they didn't actually get in the way much. Glad the writers read the room. They were mostly just used to fill the comic relief void that soren has left.

Also, I love how Jason Simpson still managed to weasel his way into the High Council through Barius, since Viren isn't exactly, yk, in that position.

DESTROY IT? CALLUM, HAVE YOU EVEN LISTENED TO THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES?

THE TABLE, CALLUM. THE TABLE!!!! Bro really be like "it's remarkably easy to buy a Novablade in central Starscraper."

Also, the way Rayla says "pearl" sounds like "peril."

They play Aaravos's little motif-melody-thingy throughout this scene. Yk, from I See You and Follow my Lead. Glad to cross that off my bingo card.

You can't see it here but the eye-movements in this scene are great. I think the animation and lighting really shine in this season. Pun intended.

Barius doing some casual baking at like 1 AM or something. Bro got insomnia /j. I mean, who are these for? They don't have fridges so they can't save em for long. Maybe Callum got him some sorta magical fridge. Or- wait- maybe they do have, like, a primitive fridge. Was that a thing? Oh actually, maybe Callum and Rayla just go to bed early. Lmfao

And there we have it, the first Viren-Callum parallel of the season. Just like episode 1 of season 1, he barges into the King's bedroom.

Alright, so. Other than this line being hilarious, I'm thinking the frustrating switcharoo that turns the latter half of the season into a bloodbath happened here. Was pretty foolish of Callum to think the pearl would be safe with him on his way out.

Ezran is saddened by everyone's departure. I'm not sure why, but it's worth noting.

They pretty much have her say "my dad is gone" just so that using this clip as a trailer wouldn't spoil anything lmao. I've been waiting to say that since Wondercon.

And now Claudia is the one leaving, as she steps out of the purifying light of the setting sun. Everyone, please give Terry a round of applause for continuing to love her despite this.

And now for the credits:

These are similar. Opeli is from the credits of this episode, and Harrow, from the credits of one from Season 2.

We need this to be a shirt.

Ahhh so Aaravos isn't the only Startouch elf with a star on their chest. I might be a little late to noticing that. Idk.

WHY THE HELL IS TERRY THE ONLY ONE CRYING FOR SIR SPARKLEPUFF? WHAT THE FUCK?

One last thing. Is it just me or is the outro song a little different? Music people, help me. I must know.

But yeah, banger episode, banger season, banger show. Imma be doin' these for all the season 6 episodes. At this rate, they will all have more words than Fallout Equestria. /j

Alright, time to take my meds. 💀

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

Watched The Rookie Season 7 Episode 12!

OHH MY GOSH THE CHENFORD O.O Y'all they were INSANE for that 👀 I loved it but my gosh xD. Lucy really showed up at 12:01 to pull this "prank" lol. Also her not revealing the prank to Celina xD girl that just makes her more suspicious, and she's gonna be totally ready when Chenford comes back for real. Also Grey's anger was so real xD and then faking a heart attack LOL iconic!!

It was nice to see Chenford working together also <3. And I gotta say I loved Lucy's shirt lol it was so cute :D 🥰

Anyway, there's no way this doesn't push them closer back together xD 👀🥰

That Rookie o.o poor guy, he didn't deserve to be pushed aside and not trained like that :(. I'm glad Nolan didn't immediately bounce him, though it was insane the stuff he was doing 💀. I was thinking they'd give him extra time, like how John was extended in the FTO program, but sending him off makes sense lol. It didn't seem like he was gonna be a long lasting character (or regular one I suppose), especially in the middle of the season like this. I would assume they're also gonna extend his training time though lol. Anyway, nice to see Nolan teach him what he could :D. Also talking about how Bailey would kill him xD. Anyway, hope that kid (do not remember his name rn) does alright :)!

Also that poor couple :(. I don't recall their names at the second but her killing him because she was afraid is just :(. It's a shame, and she shouldn't have done it, but I understand why she did. It does just suck though D:. Also James why you keep knowing criminals xD /j. Anyway :(( that whole thing sucked, but I'm glad they figured it out <3. Also going through the acronym in front of them earlier on was wild lol. And, as soon as they said that's the street they live on I was like 😬 girl killed him xd.

Wesley storyline <33 🥳🥳🥰!! My gosh this man was going through it xd. I really don't like that DA lady lol, but I'm glad Wesley managed to eat this up :). Also Wesley "my wife's my bestie" ICON 🥰🥰🥰🥰😌❤️👏👏🙏!!! And just all the "my wife" and whatnot ❤️🥰 lovely. Happy Nyla and Angela get a spa day lol, but also guys how many times has he done favors for you 💀. Like I love y'all (and really neither of y'all should be doing favors for each other at work but yk I get it lol) but let's be real here xD why we extorting the man lol.

The case was wild though o.o. Glad they got the detective! Insane that he was the murderer o.o. Also that defense attorney was a jerk lol. He had points but like dude xd. Also Wesley used to be one slfjdlks?? Anyway xD. Also just interesting to see Wesley stressed and dealing with da stuff, since we don't tend to get to!

LOVED the purge storyline, I thought it was so cool!! I honestly wish we got more of it :O. The tension was so good and real, and you can really see people doing that stuff lol. I mean I wouldn't but yk xd. It makes sense that it couldn't happen at the beginning of the episode, but if it happened near the end and there were another part of something I would've loved that. See a little more of them on the street and whatnot. But it was super cool nonetheless! Also that social media intern was making me MAD LOL. Ik she was supposed to but xd. I am glad she called Tim though, even if it was her fault, and got them there. And I'm glad she's okay <3. Hopefully she's learned her lesson though, because all of those tweets were absolutely insane things to do.

And the promo 😬😬 excited for Celina 🥳🥳 but hope she's okay 🥺. I'm sure she's gonna do great whatever happens <3, it just might be a little rough. Also, ripp John and Bailey getting the same treatment as Tarlos 😭 xd. It's rough guys, you and all your near death experiences xD 😬, but I'm sure it'll work out some way <3.

Loved the episode!! Thought it was super great :D. I really enjoyed the tension, the Wopez, the Chenford, Nolan training the new guy - all of it :))!! Super fun time, and I'm excited for the next one :D.

See y'all later!

[bratuntitled]

now playing: wicked smart

this track: 2. roll credits!

content warnings: light nomin! actual cw for classist bullshit, yn threatening violence lmfao, discussion of ayn rand ryan's notes: was too sick to go to classes today so you guys are being blessed w a double update <3 look out for the SUUUPER long (and probably cringe asf) written portion under the tweets lol... ignore timestamps as always, formatting is actually ass for this post i am So sorry!! but hopefully its enjoyable nonetheless :)

yn's friends always said that yn could spot a jerk from a mile away. it was a talent that they'd honed for years in the city's public school system, where getting bullied for living in the city's run-down areas was commonplace for both yn and jeno. yn was pretty good at brushing off nasty comments, and often openly acknowledged the fact that they've lived their whole life as little more than a gutter rat. when it came to jeno, however, it was different. kind, reliable jeno, who picked yn up each night to carpool to work while they worked at the same shitty bar. jeno, whose eyes crinkled into half-moons at yn's antics ever since they first met in kindergarten; whose shoulders - made strong by a couple years working in construction prior to becoming a bouncer - always slumped when his social efforts were shot down by some high-and-mighty prick.

that was why yn watched the conversation between jeno and the pretty guy he'd been making goo-goo eyes at with a slight smile tugging at their lips. it was also why yn's mood shifted into bone-deep annoyance once they heard some snide, nasally voice cut through the warm murmur of jeno and his new friend's conversation.

"hold this, and don't drink it," yn mutters, shoving their half-finished gin and tonic into hendery's hands. yn ignores yangyang's laugh as they push through the press of bodies gathered around the bar, choosing instead to focus in on whatever's going down between jeno, pretty guy, and the snob who's interrupting their moment.

"you don't exactly strike me as the literary type, uh..." the interlocutor trails off, waiting for jeno to supply his name.

"my name's jeno," jeno replies, his tone clipped. "and i'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, dude."

"chris..." the pretty guy sighs, clearly familiar with this man's antics, but this chris fellow continues anyways.

"no, i didn't think you would, jeno," chris replies, the words dripping with barely-concealed disdain. "that's a shame. i was hoping we could have a productive discussion on ayn rand's literary influences, especially since this is, y'know, a bar for college students."

yn can feel their facial expression pinch with irritation, but they're too thoroughly pissed off to care about what impression they're giving off. not when there's some asshole trying to make their best friend look like an idiot.

"rand, huh?" yn cuts in, setting a hand firmly on jeno's shoulder. "the moron who wrote atlas shrugged?" seeing chris nod, albeit warily at this newcomer to the conversation, yn continues.

"alright. she liked the moral core of works by of dostoyevsky, schiller, and hugo and tried to replicate it in her own writing. but, because she went around ripping the style of anyone she thought would make the best 'gotcha' towards the soviet union, her body of work consists entirely of shit that's more fit for use as toilet paper than it is as the focus of any sort of rigorous academic discussion."

chris fumbles over his words for a moment. "that's - ayn rand wrote some of the most intellectually challenging fiction of her time!" he protests, only to be cut off once again.

"... and now you're ripping john david lewis to defend her! like author, like fanboy, i guess," yn interrupts, pausing for a moment before leaning in slightly. "now, do you have anything original to contribute here, or are you gonna keep plagiarizing the idiots that came before you to try to make my friend look dumb? 'cause if it's the latter, y'know, i wouldn't mind taking this conversation outside."

chris blanches at the idea of a fight, and yn looks on with undisguised satisfaction once he finally fucks off. jeno's shoulders sag with relief as he watches chris' retreating form.

"thanks," jeno says, turning to look between yn and the cute guy. "jaemin, this is yn. yn, jaemin." jaemin looks like he's about to greet yn when a wobbly hendery drapes his arm around yn's shoulders, with yangyang giggling right behind him. he hiccups, sets the now-empty glass down on the bar counter, and leans his weight against yn.

"my buddy's wicked smart!" hendery chimes in, his words a bit slurred from drinking. "now, big brain, where's the bathroom? i gotta go piss."

yn shoots jaemin and jeno an apologetic look before focusing on scolding hendery for finishing their drink. yangyang, looking like he's having the time of his life, drags hendery towards the men's room, with yn still supporting him as he walks. they're too caught up with being the responsible adult to notice mark staring at them with open admiration as they walk by.

bonus!!!

jeno got jaemin's number right after that <3

the night's not quite over yet though....

anyways here are the drink orders!! hendery and yangyang got green tea shots (managed to order 4 rounds before the bartender got annoyed. rip bozos), yn got a gin and tonic obvi, jaemin and hyuck split a cheeky marg, jisung got a vodka redbull, mark got a beer.

jeno did not drink because he's a good designated driver; mark and co. all drank because they all live basically within walking distance of this bar :)

taglist (reply/ask to join!!): @iluv7tn

[kyaa-q]

A Train Wreck (part 1)

Lee Know x fem!reader warnings: fluff but heavy angst and themes of abusive relationships wc: 8k>. AO3 link :) synopsis: Your life has changed a lot throughout the past 6 months, since you started dating Jun. Events lead you to slowly distance yourself from some of the people you loved the most - Stray kids. Even your friendship with Bang Chan, your closest friend, was damaged after that day. Now, you find your life to be like an unstoppable train wreck hurtling toward disaster. You're gradually losing the bonds that had always kept you sane, for a serie of events that turned your world upside down. It feels inevitable: you will crash. Could someone help you avoid the collision? Could someone take the wheel with you, and help you get control over your life again? You don't know anymore. There's only one thing you do know: you are not welcomed and Lee Know, in particular, might hate you. And his opinion about you hurts more than you wanted it to.

Or: Y/N is in an abusive relationship and ends up distancing herself from her friends (Stray Kids). She thinks everybody hates her, especially Lee Know. She doesn't understand the effect he has on her (and vice-versa).

important a/n: This work deals a lot with topics of toxic/abusive relationship. There is no physical violence, but it does show cases of emotional manipulation and the potential impacts it can have over someone. The reader is in a toxic romantic relationship (I'm sorry to all Jun's out there), and the story is basically about how it affect not only the reader herself, but also the people around her who she held dear to her heart. It does contain a lot of self-doubt, anxiety, depressive thoughts and having your world reshaped by someone else, taking down important pillars to someone's life, finally facing what it means to have been deceived and accepting it (eventually). Having said all that, if you think this is a sensitive topic to you, please proceed with caution (if you choose to do so). I suck at tagging, but I hope this note made things a little clearer. In the end, it's supposed to be a way of comforting and healing - which will come, eventually -, especially with the help of someone else. I'm not sure how long this will be, but there's still a long way to go. Also, I use "Lee Know" and "Lee Minho" interchangeably, depends on the feeling. A final note is that this chapter has a lot of flashbacks of the past, so the timelines might be confusing to some, but hopefully it is clear enough and I can convey the message and feeling I aimed for. Lots of love, everybody!

You just finished ordering when your phone rings. Your stomach drops and you catch yourself being scared that it might be your partner, Jun. It hasn’t been an hour since the fight you two had over the phone, and if you were being completely honest, you can’t even recall the exact reason for the argument. What you do recall, though, is the aggressive silence, followed by yelling, aggressive silence again, a very passive-aggressive monologue about how you simply can’t understand. Why are you making things so difficult?, a quiet rage when you tried to speak, finally ending with Jun hanging up on you. In that order, specifically.

You force yourself to analyze the conversation. You remember calmly asking him where he had been the past few days. The overreaction you got threw you off. After days of complete silence from his end, could anyone actually blame you for genuinely being intrigued? Did that mean you were you a control freak? That you did you not trust him? That had never crossed your mind, for God’s sake! You only wanted to know! It was insane what he accused you of, for simply wondering whether he was busy or something similar. Suddenly trying to justify your question as coming from a place of sadness, not control, felt like a weakness. It didn't matter nonetheless, since he had hung up so abruptly. A mix of shame and guilt engulfed you, with a hint of anger that you very consciously denied.

Before you knew it, you were outside walking without direction, just desperate to unwind your mind. You hoped the fresh spring breeze healing powers would be enough. So, you walked and walked and walked, crossing streets and taking turns mindlessly. Or so you thought. You cursed your feet when you, at last, realized where they had dragged you, spotting the JYP-Entertainment building at one corner. A few buildings away, you remind yourself, your favorite coffee shop still stood. You actively deceived yourself, claiming that that is the place your feet had been leading you all along and resuming a much more determined march. It was the craving for coffee that had brought you here, you told yourself, and not the fear of running into any of the boys.

“Ma’am?” The cashier, a boy that probably is still in school, brings you back from your daze. He has a painfully obvious worried look on his face. Do I look on the outside as shitty as I feel in the inside? The phone stops ringing and you blink, hoping your mask is good enough to pull off a relaxed demeanor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You reach into your bag and aim for your wallet, doing your best to ignore the pity on that young boy’s eyes. Shame swirls inside your chest and you’re scared you might start crying in front of this poor kid.

You hand him the money and allow your eyes to wander around for a moment. The mechanical sounds the cash register makes are relaxing, and you take in the place you so dearly liked. You aren’t alone in the shop — in fact, it is quite busy for a Thursday afternoon. It is better this way, you think. The sensation of merging with the crowd and disappearing is welcoming. The boy hands over your change, and your phone starts ringing again.

The color of your face must have disappeared, by the look of the cashier’s face. “Can I do anything to-“

“Keep the change.” You smile once more, cutting him off. You turn around before he can finish his sentence and head to the farthest table you can spot. On your way, you wonder whether you look as pathetic on the outside as you feel on the inside. Without realizing it, you made a decision. The decision of avoiding Jun as if it could make anything better — as if it could even change anything by any means. You hated yourself for being scared, afraid of something you can’t exactly name. It couldn't be Jun. Why would it be? Apart from the occasional raised voice, he has never done anything to you. It's just a phone call, you tell yourself. If it goes downhill you can simply hang up, just like he did to you before. As simple as that. By the time you reach your seat, you're determined. This is foolish, you swear under your breath. Still, you hesitate to take the ringing phone out of your pocket — but end up doing it anyway.

The word Chris glowing on the screen feels like a cozy blanket being wrapped around your cold body. You must have audibly exhaled, perhaps muttered some thanks — whether to a higher being or to Chan himself, you're not sure — because you notice a few people turning their heads toward you . It’s okay, everybody! Everything is fine now!, you want to say. You clear your throat before answering it.

“Hey there.” Hopefully you don't sound so gloomy. You put in a double effort to sound as cheery as possible. Perhaps, if Chan believes you’re okay, you might as well just be.

“What’s wrong?” Straight to the point, you wince by the dry, clearly worried tone. Tough start.

You know Chan and the way he worries extensively about everything and everyone — not enough about himself, some would argue, but you'd slightly disagree. It’s simply part of his nature, you’ve learned. As much as you admired deeply his instinct to help, you did not want to be the object of such attention at that moment. He is a great friend – fuck, he is the best friend. In normal instances, you wouldn't hesitate before sharing your mind and soul with him. Right now, however, worrying him also meant being faced with too many questions, none of which you wanted to answer — perhaps not even knew the answer to. Not only that, you were also vaguely aware about the upcoming Stray Kids comeback in less than two months. Having witnessed the boys go through times like this firsthand before, the last thing you wanted was to add your name to the list of “Things That Keep Bang Chan Up At Night”. In reality, you knew he couldn't do anything about your situation regardless. Therefore, you conclude, worrying him would simply be counterproductive.

“Ouch. Not even a hello?” You play it off, fidgeting with your bag’s strap. You know you can't fool Chan. You shake your head to ward off the thoughts.

“Hello. What is wrong, Y/N?” He insists and you shift nervously in your chair. Your eyes travel to the cashier, who is talking to the barista, a boy as young as him, keeping them both in your line of sight. “Why didn’t you pick up the first time?” Chan questions.

“Is it that weird for me to not pick up immediately?” You joke quietly. You know Chan is not buying your act. “Actually. I think I should be the one asking you. Why do you sound so urgent? What is going on?” You deflect, but Chan doesn’t take the bait. He takes a deep breath, audibly through the speaker, and you feel bad for making things difficult for him — you really do. But you know it’s the best option. You will sort all the awkwardness in the future, hoping it won't be too late for it to have settled and stained your friendship irreversibly. You want to fill the silence, but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth.

Is it really the best option? What would be worse — telling Chan and burdening him with your own confusing problems, at least having him know what’s wrong, or avoiding talking about it? Certainly, he will sense that something is wrong, but at least he won’t feel bad for not helping if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.

But where to start?

Chris exhales audibly once more. “Nothing. I’m sorry.” He wants to insist, you can tell, but you’re thankful he’s holding back. “I just miss you.” He says it so softly the phone barely captures it. It hits you like a truck, and tears are rolling down your cheeks before you acknowledge them. The lump in your throat grows, and you're afraid your voice will betray you if you try to speak. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. When was the last time you came to the company?”

And it has been weeks - months, actually. You’re sure you can hear your own heart shattering like glass inside your chest. You can touch the sharp edges of the cracks and spot bruises that were supposed to have healed long ago but linger still. You miss him too. Not only Chan, but you you’re your routine with him and 3RACHA. You miss Changbin’s loud teasings and Han’s snuggles. You miss spending the hours on end holed up in a practice room with the eight of them, watching as they dance and sing and spin and fight and laugh, as if their own life depended on it. You were just a lucky spectator who has been very much avoiding the fact that you've been neglecting your most precious fortune. When did you become this mess of a person?

You’re bothering them. The male voice resonates in your mind and you close fiercely your eyes. You are not one of them, Y/N. You’re just being a nuisance all the time. Why can't you see it?

You try to stop it, but it's in vain. The memory memory comes back regardless.

“I never said I was one of them. That’s silly.” You replied as you entered the company’s elevator, followed by Jun. With your hands occupied holding plastic bags filled with snacks handpicked for each of the boys, you press the button with your elbow. “I just don’t think they see a problem with me coming over from time to time. It's not like I'm showing up every day." You glimpsed at your watch. You were early and Chris wouldn't be waiting for you. Perfect, you could surprise them. "You know, Channie was the one-“ He scoffed and you felt a puncture of guilt. “Chris.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to get into a fight because of this again. “Chris was the one who texted me asking if I was planning to come or not.” You tried to conceal the pride warming your chest with that statement.

“Maybe it’s because they just want to go home, but they can’t because there’s always the chance of you showing up out of nowhere. Have you ever thought about that?" His tone was harsh and took you by surprise. Actually… No. You have not thought about that, in fact. He inhaled deeply, massaging his temples in a sign of stress. “Of course not."

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You mumbled, fighting against the flush of shame on your cheeks. What if he's right? What if you've been bothering and annoying some of the most important people in your life this whole time, and they've just been putting up with you? Your heart sank at the thought.

“Babe.” Jun appeared in your line of sight and placed his hands on both your shoulders. "You know I'm only saying this because I love you, right? I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of those people, that’s all." You tried to avoid his gaze, but he gently turned your chin and held it. "Okay?”

His voice was soft, but clear. Too loud for your ears, perhaps. The soft tone did not make it easier to absorb the painful words. It took you a moment to register that the elevator's bell had run the doors had already opened. Your partner stepped back, taking some of the bags from your hands and turning to exit. Had you been paying attention, you would've noticed the cynical smile on his face as he turned toward the figure standing at the entrance. You only registered the other party after Jun's venomous tone. “If you excuse us.”

The shadow, meanwhile, did not excuse him. He didn't move not even an inch to the side, and you caught Jun trying to pass by them smoothly - but failing. The figure didn't show to care when he bumped into him, murmuring curses under his breath that were very much audible. You turned your head and found, as already expected, Lee Know standing there. Nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you met his piercing dark gaze, already fixed on you - and you only. He paid as much attention to Jun as he'd do to a fleck of dust.

Although it had been about two months since you started dating Jun, all the boys had already met him. You held a habit of visiting them regularly at the company after being close to Chan for so long. Dating Jun hadn't stopped you from doing that, in fact, for some reason, he'd insist to come along. You tried questioning him if that came from a place of jealousy, but gave up after a few attempts. Mentioning Stray Kids was usually the motive for big arguments, which never led anywhere. Coming to the company to hang out obviously gave Jun as much amusement as he’d get from attending a seminar on top 10 best lore of teenager’s movies, and it was up to him how he spent his time. You actively did your best to dismiss his mean comments about the most insane things, be it the lightening of the place or the paint color they chose to paint this one specific wall or the supposed secretary’s rudeness. Every aspect of the building had something wrong with it that deserved a specific remark about it. Jun had learned not to make any unpleasant comments about - or even to - the boys. That was the only instance you would not let slide. In return, you learned to let him rant about how god damn cold or hot or crowded or empty the building was.

You never told Chan - or anyone, for that matter - about it. Practically any of the members, even Chris himself, had ever explicitly stated whether they liked or disliked Jun, and you never asked them directly. They maintained an awkwardly polite demeanor in Jun’s presence. At least they tried to keep it civilized, even when Jun was being difficult. Well, practically because there was one exception.

Lee Minho clearly disliked your boyfriend, and the feeling was mutual from day one. The first day Jun came along and you introduced him to your friends, they were all respectful and dealt fairly well with Jun’s special ironic remarks. Minho, on the other hand, had withdrawn into a state of heavy silence and deadly stares that alternated between you and Jun. You tried to ignore it, initially, not giving it too much thought. That was until Minho questioned, in a very audible and shameless, almost whiny voice, 'Ah, Hyung! When is this thing leaving? It’s so annoying.'

Before you could decide whether you’d argue with Minho or Jun, your short-tempered partner was already looking, outraged, for the source of the voice. You grabbed his arms and tried to drag him toward the door, saying goodbye to the boys with a hasty 'Yes, I’ll see you soon! Take care!' And, 'Let’s go, Jun, we have to—'

But as you left the room, both you and Jun saw that Minho had stood up and was leaning proudly against the wall. His deadly stare had followed you to the exit and you caught when the shadows on his face gave place to a malicious smile forming on his lips. He was looking at Jun, as he gave a tiny wave, somehow a sign of imminent violence. Just before you closed the door, you couldn't stop the shiver running down your spine when you noticed he was staring at you. You couldn't read what they said, but your stomach churned nonetheless.

Minho was the primary target of your boyfriend’s distaste ever since, and a common fight motive. Jun had always been the type to overthink, but it was ridiculously worse when it came to Lee Know - which was tragically hilarious. From all the eight, he had chosen Lee Minho to pick on? You'd try to argue, but his reply would always come to You can’t be this blind. It was maddening, always as if you were both arguing about two completely different things.

Thus, you weren't surprised to find Lee Know in front of you - that particular mocking tone coming from Jun in If you excuse us, would only be used with Minho. What did surprise you, however, was Minho himself. Standing as still as a statue in front of you, the man emanated annoyance and deep displeasure. His dark eyes exuded an anger you were certain you could touch. It made the air surrounding you heavier and colder. The chill reflected in your stomach as your face grew hotter. You couldn't look away, as if you were under a spell - and perhaps you were. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream, to run, or to hide. Maybe all three options. The knowledge you were the reason behind this anger was as clear as running fresh water, and it gave you goosebumps. Somehow, it wasn’t a question. You didn’t know what you could’ve done to trigger such fierce feelings from Lee Know. Although his feelings were as transparent as clean glass, you were unable to read his thoughts. Honestly, you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

How long it passed, you couldn’t tell. How long you stood there, pitiful and unable to move or look away, a mess of flushed face and glassy eyes, remains unclear to you to this day. What was very clear even at that time, however, was the shadow of disappointment you spot on the vastness of his deep dark eyes the moment before he turned around. He walked to the opposite direction of the hallway without saying a word. The abrupt withdraw left bad taste in your mouth. The spell was broken and you could breathe again, but the air was too icy in your lungs, making you wonder whether it'd be better to go back underwater - to be back under his gaze. That shadow of disappointment in his eyes persisted like an annoying fly you couldn’t shoo away, accompanied by a heavy weight in your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” The angry whisper suddenly reminded you that you weren’t alone. You might as well have been, though. The world could have ended and the universe collapsed at that very moment, and yet, staring into Lee Know’s eyes, you knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Under his gaze, you wouldn’t have noticed anyone but you and him. Your eyes followed the dark spot going down the corridor, until the moment he finally took a turn and disappeared completely. You collapsed against the elevator’s wall, finally breathing in as deep as you could until your lungs ache. Hold for one. Two. Three. Four. Exhale.

“Hello? What the fuck Y/N?” For a moment you considered yelling at Jun. You felt your nerves on the surface of your skin, and your heartbeat was distractingly loud in your head.

“I don’t know.” You breathed out, realizing that, in fact, you didn't have energy to fight. Your legs were unsteady and you realized your hands were shaking. The fog in your mind dissipated a little, and the pleas in your mind for Minho to come back died out. You tighten the grip on the left bags on your hands and push yourself forward. In automatic mode, you got out the elevator and headed to the first and closest safe place your mind could think of: 3RACHA’s Studio.

Perhaps you should have realized that you were heading in the same direction you had just seen him go, only a few minutes before. That you would, unavoidably, end up facing Lee Know again - although 3RACHA’s Studio wasn’t the only active room on that floor, that was the most obvious conclusion to arrive at. Maybe you knew it, unconsciously. Today, you wonder if you didn’t turn back that day simply because following Minho was like an instinct. You were confused, sad and scared, but still, going to Minho felt as natural as searching for a shelter during a storm. In this case, Minho was both the storm and the shelter. You should’ve turned your back and gone home, but you didn’t. Your mind was a hurricane of confusing feelings and images that, in the end, returned to the same name being chanted again and again. Lee Know Lee Know Lee Know.

Jun kept saying things you didn’t register. His voice was just a bit more than an agitated whisper, and you wished he would just shut up. Or even better, stayed at home. The doubts and fears resurfaced and you couldn’t shake them away. What if he was right? What if what had just happened was a statement of how much you annoyed and bothered this people?

Did they hate you that much?

As this last thought crossed your mind, a loud thud echoed, followed by a harsh voice. You froze, realizing it was emanating from 3RACHA’s Studio, and the door was half-open.

“Why is it still going on? It’s ridiculous!” It was… Minho? Could it be? You had never seen him raise his voice in anger - at least not seriously. It was unmistakably Minho, but the so intense anger was foreign to you. You couldn’t place it to the so coldhearted and detached person that Minho had always shown.

“YA! Don’t go around slamming things!” Changbin’s scolding came even louder, followed by mumbles you thought was Han's, but they were too muffled by the distance and walls to be sure.

They were fighting. They were very seriously fighting, and the realization sank in.

You should run. Run run run. Something was so clearly and deeply wrong. You should not be here. Now. Run.

Your members didn't follow your mind’s orders, and you caught yourself frozen in place.

You couldn’t move.

Your eyes snapped to your left, where Jun started moving. The sparkle of hope was extinguished when you realized he was moving forward, and not back to the elevator. He took one step closer to the door, and then another. Slowly, but surely trying to get a better listen. This isn't right.

“What do you want us to do, Minho?” Chan’s voice was also alien. The hasty, firm and contained anger just didn’t fit his patient personality. “Should we yell at her? That’s your solution?”

Her. Obviously this was about you. The word solution haunts you to this day, but even back then, the harm was starting to settle in. The need of a solution arises from the existence of a problem. You. In the end, you were the problem they were looking for a solution for.

“I can’t do this.” It was Lee Know again. Although his voice was much lower, it was as clear as it would’ve been if you were in that room with them. Pain and exhaustion overflowed from his words, and you felt their weight on your own face, in the form of tears that welled up and streamed down nonstop. His agony was overwhelming, and you felt as if your own heart was a broken dam. “I can’t, Hyung.” It was getting harder to understand his words - not only for the walls muffling them, but also for your own heartbeat was deafening. For a moment, you considered whether they could hear it too.

You sized your options. First, you could casually knock on the door and hand them the bags – somehow still in your hands –, then find an excuse to leave right after. Oh, sorry! I’m super busy, just wanted to give you guys these. No, it’s fine! Enjoy! It could work. Except the atmosphere inside was beyond intimidating. You would never be able to put on such an act that convinced them you weren't listening. The second option was simply leaving the bags in front of the door and leaving instantly. You shook your head, discarding the idea as soon as it happened. Leaving without saying a word would be a clear statement that you heard them, then felt bad and left. While it was precisely what had happened, you did not want them to know that. No, you couldn’t bear having Chan forcibly explaining to you in which ways you were a problem to the boys. The fact that he felt this way - or at least knew the others did - and had not talked to you prior stung at the back of your brain. Lastly, you could just leave. Dragging Jun and all the bags, you would leave no traces behind and, hopefully, Minho would think you didn’t even leave the elevator. Maybe he would think you had seen him and finally realized you were not welcome, then you had made the smartest choice – the one you should definitely have taken – and had gone straight home. He would ignore it and not mention it and-

Shouts suddenly pulled out from of your daze.

“GONE! OUT OF HERE! OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT!” Someone vociferated, followed by the sounds of a chair being dragged and steps. You grabbed Jun's hand and started pulling him after you before you even register doing the action. Desperately going back to the direction you both came from, you prayed to find an unlocked door before anyone heard your footsteps and plastic sounds. Not sure how, your pleas were quickly answered. In a moment of despair, trying to open an unknown door, you pushed both you and Jun inside the empty dark room. Shortly afyer you shut the door and locked it, hoping the thud noise went unnoticed. 

 “Are you crazy?” As soon as he started, you dropped all the plastic bags and covered his mouth with both hands. You closed your eyes – to avoid the tears that threatened to spill or to hear if anyone had left the studio and came after you, you didn’t know. Regardless, you couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat and a high buzz in your ears.

“Y/N?” You blink, coming back to the present. You open your eyes, and the barista is in front of your table holding your coffee. You notice his uncomfortable gaze and blush in embarrassment, murmuring thanks and apologies as he hands you the cup and leaves. He must’ve called you and you didn’t hear, giving him extra trouble to leave his spot and hand it to you personally.

It can also be due the tears flowing uninterruptedly on your face. Who knows.

You look at the black screen on your hand, laying on your lap now. You unlock your phone and blink to try to clean your vision from the tears, regardless, there is no new notifications. You can't recall the conversation with Chan exactly - if it could even be called a conversation. You don't know whether it was you or Chan who hung up, or even if you got to say goodbye. Had he noticed you crying?

You stare at the ceiling, doing your best to stop the tears. That was the last time you went to the company, and that was months ago. You miss Chan. You miss Changbin and Han. You miss spending the afternoon simply watching them working on music. You miss how they were loud and lively and intense. You miss how you felt when you were with them, and knowing that the feeling was only one sided broke your heart in ways you have no idea how to heal. You can’t shake the feeling of losing them - it seemed inevitable, and you wanted to scream.

You don't know why you act the way you do - running away since then. Evidently, it wouldn't magically make things right again. It wouldn't wipe out your memories of that day, or care less, for that matter. Some of the dearest people in your life thought of you as a problem to be solved, and it simply hurt. Minho’s anger and disdain were far too ingrained in your brain. You’ve been ignoring the acute pain that always followed remembering his exasperation and fury. Gone, he had shouted at the top of his lungs. He wanted you gone and couldn’t fathom why no one had talked to you yet. Honestly, it's hard for you to not question the same. 

Something very solid and real had broken inside you that day. Your attempt to pretend nothing happened was reinforced by the fact that, that day, Minho had, indeed, did what you hoped he would do. You texted Chan a little after, apologizing for not showing up, and he didn't say anything about you being there. Minho hadn’t told them about meeting you, and you felt relieved – maybe you could work things out by yourself, without having to make things even harder for them. You still didn't know how - but you planned on finding out.

The weeks that followed that incident were a messy blur. Thankfully, Jun didn’t mind your absentmindedness. It didn't bother him – interacting was an action that had to come from your end, and, since your mind was preoccupied with something else, he wouldn’t even try pulling you out from your thoughts. You couldn’t focus on anything else for too long, your thoughts would always, somehow, end on Minho’s resentment. On Minho's angry pleas to the winds for you to go away. On Minho's eyes. On Minho. Minho. It drove you mad. You felt bad and didn't want to admit you resented Chan a little. As you learned, asking Jun for advice proved to be completely unhelpful – in fact, it made things worse most of times. The situation was as clear as crystal to him: the boys were busy people, while you were someone desperately clinging to their attention, and, in the end, it saturated them. They were also not assholes - except that guy, he'd add - and that’s why they had been trying to give you hints. Then, you could arrive at the conclusion yourself, and there wouldn't be a need to go through the confrontational phase. Unfortunately, you hadn’t done your part and didn’t read between the lines, that's why you stood where you did. Why are you so upset about it? Fuck them! I never liked those guys anyway, and variations would usually put an end to the "conversation".

At work, however, you didn’t have the comfort of having your absentmindedness be dismissed. That was quickly noticeable not only by your clients and colleagues, but also by your manager. He was a patient man, but seemed to be in a permanent state of exhaustion and you guessed that's what capitalism did to a person. He never raised his voice and treated employees as human beings – an unprecedented event according to your own experience -, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the company as top priority. He tried to listen and help, but wouldn’t hesitate to fire someone if they messed up. The first time you were called to his office, he questioned, impassive, about the embarrassing decline in your productivity. He didn’t seem exactly worried - employees had ups and downs all the time. You tended to overwork yourself, and, although you weren't the employee of the month, you knew you did a good job overall - so did your superior. “It’s just proceeding, you know?”

The downs persisted, unfortunately, and two weeks later you were called again. This time, his approach was more assertive and concerned.

“You can’t stay like this, Y/N.” He turned the monitor on his desk to face you, showing the numbers you had missed the last 15 days. “What is going on?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You bowed deeply one more time, having no explanations or justifications for your bad performance. You couldn���t tell your manager you had your confidence undermined, that you were questioning every single act and interaction you had. You couldn’t tell your superior how deeply you missed your friends, missed love and hugs and affection and care. You missed yourself. You couldn’t tell him about the constant presence in your head that kept saying you were doing everything wrong. Everything. All your achievements, be they your job or your relationships - all of them were product of luck and you clearly weren’t good enough to keep them. Chan instantly came to mind. Even though he was texting you regularly, you couldn't get rid of the overwhelming sadness gripping your neck and kept your replies short. Obviously he had noticed, but respected your space - he stopped asking what was wrong after the first week. Knowing him, it was good that he didn’t know where you live, and that his own job kept him busy through day and night, or else you were certain he would’ve shown up at your door already. “It’s all my fault and I am deeply sorry I am bringing losses to the company and-"

“Y/N.” Your manager cut you, “When was the last time you slept?”

Confused, you blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That answers it. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine.” You raised your hands in surrender. “I promise, I don’t need to-“

“You can be a lot of things, Y/N. Sleep-deprived. Careless. Stressful. Anything but fine.” You flinched on the bluntness.

“Don’t you mean stressed?” You mumbled, embarrassed, trying to play off a joke.

“No, I said what I meant. Stressful. I cannot go on even for one more day if I look at my window one more time and see you staring blankly at your hands for God knows how long.” Before you could protest, he stopped you again. “I’m serious. I can’t afford the trouble of having an employee passing out because of lack of sleep. Take the rest of the day off and go to the hospital to get checked up. Come back tomorrow with the results in hand stating you are not dying or turning into a damn zombie.”

Left with no choice, you headed to the hospital. The feeling of guilt lingered in your chest a little, wondering if the insomniac nights were obvious in the dark bags under your eyes, if your anxiety was that evident in your eyes, words and walking.

You expected your health to be in check. You were certain modern medicine wasn’t capable of curing broken hearts yet – unfortunately. In worst case scenario, you’d probably walk out with a prescription to help you sleep and that’d be all. You took a deep breath before going in.

“Y/N?!”

Your body reacted before your mind and your eyes snapped in the direction of the source – Chris. He was already walking toward you, emerging from inside the huge building you had been staring at. You wondered if you were finally at the stage of hallucinations, and perhaps it was good it was happening next to a hospital - but this thought soon evaporated. Before you registered your own actions, you were also walking toward him, falling into the so missed and familiar hug your heart ached for.

It was the first time meeting Chan in almost a month. Usually, it wouldn’t have been a big thing, but it was for you. Your heart had been bleeding out for the past four weeks, and you hadn’t found a way to stop the pain. Chris was instant medicine, one that you had been actively depriving yourself of. You allowed yourself to be selfish for a moment. It was okay if you disturbed them and if you were an overall headache to them. In that moment, though, it was just you and Chris. You let yourself to believe that the love and appreciation you received from him were as real as they felt.

“Hi.” You murmured against his chest, inhaling his familiar perfume. His body vibrated with a chuckle, backing off just enough to look you in the eyes.

It was short, but you saw when the fun and joyful semblance turned into a concerned expression. You thought you sensed Chan becoming rigid, stiffening the hold on your shoulders just a little, as if you could run away if he let you. You remembered how you awfully sick and tired you might look. “How are yo-“

“I’m fine.” You cut off him, not being able to hold back a smile. “Do I look that terrible?”

He shifted, trying to cover up for his shameless stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Your smile widened; it was so easy to mess with him. “I’m just joking. I’m really fine, though.”

He glanced at you suspiciously. You could’ve well said you won the Olympics, and a quick look at you was enough to say that both of those things – being fine and winning the Olympics – were equally unlikely. And you didn’t account for the fact he had caught you standing in front of a hospital, just about to go in. Then it clicked, a hospital he just walked out of.

“Wait, what were you doing there? Are you okay?” It was your time to shamelessly look for wounds and signs that could hint if there was anything wrong with Chris. You noticed his clothes – shorts and a black long-sleeve shirt, it’s not something he’d normally wear outside, and rather stay inside working or even practicing.

He laughed shortly. “I am fine. Jeongin had an accident during practice and-“

“Jeongin had an accident?” Your voice was high pitched. Your eyes shifted to the entrance, past Chan, and you tensed, afraid you could see a badly hurt I.N.

“He is fine, Y/N.” He put his hand on the top of your head and turned it back to him. Looking into his eyes, you searched but found no traces of lying. Indeed, Chan looked quite chill, given the circumstances. “We feared he had a strained ligament or something, but he’s fine. I'll still hurt for the next few days, for sure. But he'll survive."

You breathed out in relief. “That’s great.” The story also explained his clothes.

Chan smiled at your concern. “Actually, they should be here at any minute now.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“They?” You looked at him puzzled, but as if waiting for its cue, a loud calling Hyung! drew his attention.

When he turned around, keeping one hand gently on your elbow, he stepped aside and gave you a clear vision of the hospital's entrance.

Your heart caught in your throat. It wasn’t the imagery of an injured Jeongin, who limped just a little toward you and Chan, using a crutch to support his body. Oblivious, you didn’t even notice the way he was happily surprised to see you after so long, his dimples showing even after he had just left the hospital.

No. In all honesty, you had barely registered Jeongin’s presence at all at first. Instead, your eyes met with the figure following him, just slightly behind. The simplicity of the large white shirt and gray sweatpants would have made anyone else look comfortable, casual at most – but Lee Know wasn’t just anyone else. He wasn’t just comfortable or casual. He was so goddamn attractive - he was hot, you dared. His dark hair was even longer than it was the month prior, falling a little on his eyes depending on the movement of his face, and you had the urge to place a lock behind his ear.

He stopped walking suddenly, his gaze locking with yours. In that moment you knew the word that best described Minho: breathtaking – quite literally.

It lasted for a moment. Chan called for I.N and Minho started walking in your direction. Your eyes instantly deviated from his, and you forced yourself to focus on the maknae, rather than the burning stare coming from Minho or the blood flow running in your ears.

“Y/N!” Jeongin smile was contagious.

“Hey there, baby bread! How are you feeling?” You wanted to hug him, but you were unsure about his injuries, so you chose to stick with the smiling. Lee Know caught up to you all and placed himself by Jeongin's side.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” You saw him blushing. “This thing helps," he jiggled the crutch, "but it makes it seem way worse than it actually is. Ice will do just fine.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Innie”. You smiled at him, and he smiled back. Keeping your hands in front of your body, highly conscious - conscious of your posture, choice of clothes, and greasy hair. You felt like a prey being watched by a predator – but choosing to avoid the predator’s eyes instead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Although Minho’s voice didn’t carry any resentment or accusation, you still winced. The sensation was like having a burnt hand and then someone grabbing it and placing it under a stream of cold water for relief. Yes, the relief would come right after, but first came the moment of shock and instinct to move away, before realizing how much you needed the cold water (his voice?) to relieve the pain of your burnt hand (your heart?).

“Come on, Lino. That’s not how you greet people.” Chan began, glancing at you apologetically. Unable to ignore him any longer, you let your eyes shift towards him.

His expression was a mystery, as hard as if it were sculpted in marble. Minho's face revealed no emotions, nor did his words. The bluntness could be mistaken by indifference, still his gaze was intense, making it hard to breathe and sending chills down your spine.

“Why would anything be wrong?” You questioned. Your voice somehow didn’t shake, and you hope you didn’t look as affected as you felt.

“Because I have eyes.” You felt your face growing hotter.  “And because you are in front of a hospital. What is wrong?” A sparkle of defiance lit in your chest – you owed him nothing. In fact, last time you checked, Lee Minho had made it very clear he did not want to see you.

“That’s not nice, Minho.” Chan scolded him, more fiercely this time.

“No, Chan.” You began, smiling warmly at Chris. He had so much on his shoulders already, you wouldn’t let Minho become another topic of trouble for him. “I’m fine, Minho. I’m here only to get checked up. Routine, that’s all.” You sustained his gaze with one of your own, hands held in fist so tight you’d later find red marks on your palms.

Minho raised a brow, almost mocking your poor explanation. The maknae spoke before him, “Are you sure you are well, Y/N?” The gentleness appeased your heart.

“You have to be joking.” Lee Know scoffed, apparently to himself but audibly to all of you. He was infuriating, daring to demand answers he had absolutely no right over! Why was he pressing on this? Why did it matter, anyway? Before you launched on him, Chan spoke.

“Okay! We’re done here.” He felt the weird energy between you two and wanted to prevent a war. “The driver is waiting for us, we need to go back. I.N, can you walk by yourself?”

“Yes, Hyung.” The maknae responded, particularly confused for the sudden shift but not daring to ask any questions.

Chan clapped “Okay, great. Minho, let’s-“

“I’m staying.” Minho said simply, placing himself by your side. Both you and Chan turned your heads to him abruptly.

“You are what?” You stepped away from him in disbelief. Your voice was a little higher than you wished. His face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes that you quite put your finger on. “No, you are not.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna do anything to you.” He exasperated.

You tried to sense his motives, but it made so little sense that it was hard to put some logic into it. Did he get some twisted pleasure from upsetting you? It could be. But again, not a month had passed after the incident at the company. Back then, the sight of you had triggered as far as rage in him. But even now, he didn't look exactly the type of person that was getting any satisfaction from being in your presence.

Chan’s tone was serious. “Minho,” His eyes left yours and shifted to the oldest, changing his demeanor in a bit. His posture was rigid, but his gaze carried a determined defiance. “What is going on?”

Minho pointed at you without adverting his eyes from Chan. You gasped angrily, about to protest, but he didn’t give you the space. “She is going on, hyung. Look at her. If not for the obvious signs of being ill, then for the fact she’s missing work to come to the hospital.”

You argued. “I’m missing work because my boss told me to!"

“Which only proves my point.” He continued, letting his hand fall right by his side. “Something is so obviously wrong that it was up to her boss to step in, or else I doubt she’d come by herself.”

Ouch. “Listen." You interrupted. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you’re making it way bigger than it actually is. I am okay and I most definitely do not need your help.” You glanced at Chris, but his attention was still directed to Minho. You could see the gears working in his head, but you decided it was time to leave. “It was great seeing you guys. I mean it. But I really don't have time for this. If you excuse me.” You turned your back and tried to leave, but in vain. Not even two steps later did a hand wrap around one of your wrists. Minho’s hold was gentle, but firm, and you tried to hide de burning in your cheeks. “YA!”

He pulled you closer than you were before, and his voice was deeper when he spoke. “How long has it been since you last saw your boyfriend?” You were dizzy. The sudden shift in subject, accompanied by the warmth Minho's hand transmitted to your wrist and the disdain he had put into the word 'boyfriend,' clouded your thinking.

“Jun?” You blinked, trying to disperse the fog, but the scent of his perfume was inebriating. Minho was too close. “I saw him yesterday.”

“You saw him yesterday?” Minho’s voice had a hint of disbelief, and he searched for lies in your eyes. You saw him becoming tense, and you prepared to feel his grip tightening, but the hold on your wrist remained the same. “Are you sure?”

“What?! Of course I am sure! What kind of question is that?” Angrily, you pulled your wrist away from his grasp. He let you, keeping his stare a little longer. “What is wrong with you?!” You turned your eyes to Chris, begging a way out of this insanity. You caught I.N behind him, almost as uncomfortable with the scene as you were. Chan sustained Minho’s gaze for a moment, and your eyes darted between the two of them. No words were spoken, but obviously they weren't needed. The silent conversation through telepathy or whatever the sorcery clearly didn't include you.

After what seemed like forever, Chan sighed, defeated. “Okay. Y/N," he turned to you. "do you mind if he accompanies you?”

“What?! This is madness! Of course I mind. I’m not a child!” You begged.

“It’s not that, sweetheart.” He got closer and you let him when he pulled you to a hug. “We’re just worried about you. We all know you’re very much capable of taking care of yourself.” He added the last phrase when he felt you were about to protest. “We just want to make sure you are okay and can go home safely afterwards.”

“I can do this by myself.” You mumbled.

“I know, I know. But Lee Know can’t. He won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t make sure you’re safe and sound.” He kissed your forehead. “And my mind will also be at ease if I know you’re with him.”

After a moment, you sighed. “Fine.” You accepted reluctantly, stepping away as Chan positioned himself next to the waiting maknae.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re amazing. Lemme know how things go, yea?” Chan’s warm smile was impossible to be angry about. You nodded with your head and waved a tiny goodbye to I.N and watched them walk away.

Lee Know, didn't move an inch throughout the entire time.  When you turned to him, somehow, he seemed relaxed. Even his eyes had changed. Although they still carried a wince of something unknown - similar to concern but deeper in a way -, they were calmer. They were almost… gentle. It could’ve made you mad. He had made a huge thing out of nothing, stressed both you and Chris, and now dared to look at you with tenderness in his eyes. You exhaled, knowing it'd be pointless to yell at him. You were exhausted and had no energy spared to bicker. His motives was still undisclosed, but perhaps they weren’t important right now. You decided that your main task was to get whatever prescription as easily as possible, and then have a doctor to state you were not about to collapse. Then, not only would it solve the matter with your boss, but also it meant you would finally get rid of the man in front of you.

Okay, that sounds like a plan.

“Shall we?” Minho reached out his hand with an overly soft voice. You rolled your eyes.

"Weirdo." You cursed under your breath and avoided his hand, heading, finally, straight to the entrance. You did take note of the small chuckle he let out, and how he smoothly followed you behind.

[lusthurts]

I don't know you talked about it or if any one asked you this already. But can you help me visualize the OCs from HBWB and UWBO? Talking more about the teenage ones.

Using this to say they are all awesome and i care about them just as much as Seblaine and the Warblers we already know about.

I took a special liking to Ethan, hopefully his brother apologizes to him. And i'm also really interested on Dylan, i think i'm supposed to hate him, but i don't know, it's a character that's intriguing to me nonetheless. Trent and James romance is really cute. And Emma and Hattie are queens.

yes!! i think the only time i talked about it was in like,, an ao3 reply to someone's comment so definitely not something I posted anywhere. I will now though!! So glad you like the OCs, they really do feel like my children haha Ethan is one of my favorites in the whole thing and I love his storyline with Emma so much. Dylan annoys me to no end lol but I really like the role he plays in the story. And of course love Trent & James, and Hattie really is a queen ahhh her little fling with Meatbox makes me laugh I love it.

For visuals ~

Ethan! The actor I always picture is Aron Piper from Elite! I was originally inspired to do this because their uniforms look so similar to Dalton, and then he was just in my head whenever I wrote for Ethan. He has kind of like,, a laid back, cool guy vibe, wears lots of Tommy Hilfiger, tennis shoes/jeans, and spends a lot of time at his family's lake home in the summer.

2. Emma! The actor I picture for her is Whitney Peak! I was introduced to her through the Gossip Girl reboot and think she's gorgeous + has this really like,, cool girl relaxed vibe that I think works really well with Ethan. She kinda has an athleisure type style? Like I'm picturing lots of crewnecks and hoodies with skirts.

3. Dylan! The actor for him is Justice Smith, but like,, specifically in his nerdier roles, like in Paper Towns. I don't really think of him as being like a nerd type but that's definitely what his appearance gives off? Idk I think the character dresses a little bit trendier so that kinda takes away from it. And he's really into psychology, both his parents are therapists lol so it's always been something he spends a lot of time with.

4. Hattie! Her actor is Ester Expósito (also from Elite haha) and she has this very like, rich girl, elite, Blair Waldorf type aesthetic. Lots of designer clothes, lots of pink, Chanel, lots of just very high end type stuff.

5. James! I found this actor via Pinterest lol, but he's exactly what I was picturing in my head - Park Bo Gum, who's a Korean actor. He kinda dresses like laid back professor, Dead Poets Society, 90s Chandler Bing type vibe haha idk how else to describe it but I have such a clear vision of it in my head.

6. Preston! okay so when picking for him, I needed someone who looks at least a little bit like Ethan? so lol I picked Joshua Bassett, just because in his younger pictures he kinda has the same curly hair thing as Ethan and I think he pulls off the kinda like, soft boy with a tougher side athletic type, and the character basically just lives and breathes soccer.

I think that's all the OCs I have concrete visuals for! I hope this wasn't too long of a tangent haha I just have a lot to say about these characters!! I am working on these little like grid edits of all the characters from the HBWB verse so stay tuned for that.