#i can always recognize Tara Strong

[oroniel]

Galadriel's green dress and Green Tara imagery

I've always been struck by the strong resemblance between Galadriel's season 1 green dress and the iconography of Green Tara in the Vajrayana tradition of Buddhism. I would be surprised if this wasn't an actual inspiration for this costume. I've seen many posts looking at Western art as a source for costumes in Rings of Power, and in many of those instances, the link is direct - the costume is clearly lifted from a particular painting. But I haven't seen any that identify an origin for this dress. Both the color of the dress and the arrangement of the jewels - including the beading at the neck and cuffs and the diagonal swath of beads across the torso - strongly evoke the imagery of Green Tara.

Green Tara is one 21 manifestations of the Bodhisattva Tara, who is associated with compassion. These manifestations range from fully peaceful to fully wrathful. All of the Taras, regardless of aspect, are benevolent, even when their wrathful aspects may initially appear frightening.

Green Tara is towards the more peaceful end of the spectrum, but her color and her half-extended leg indicate that she is isn't fully settled into a peaceful persona. Her third eye of wisdom is not yet open. This is symbolically fitting for Galadriel, who demonstrates both peaceful and wrathful aspects across the course of Tolkien's writings and the show, but who is obviously still in a more wrathful state when we meet her in Rings of Power. We know that she will eventually project those more peaceful aspects most strongly after she founds Lothlorien. White Tara is the final and fully peaceful emanation of Tara, with not only an open third eye, but also eyes on her palms and soles. This corresponds to Galadriel's traditional Third Age representation as a being clad in white, but it also evokes her mirror and her mastery of Nenya as a means of seeing beyond the capabilities of an ordinary being. The Taras are often also depicted with a mirror, as in this image.

It's fitting that this is the dress that Galadriel was wearing when she confronted Halbrand and finally saw the truth of his identity. Much of Buddhist practice is concerned with perceiving and dispelling ignorance and illusion, and recognizing the negative effects of attachment. It is while wearing this dress, too, that Galadriel finally relinquishes her brother's dagger - an item that represents her attachment to a quest that ultimately further entangled her in fear, delusion, and suffering.

Given Galadriel's refusal to return to Valinor and her second season references to sticking around Middle Earth to try to prevent suffering, her bodhisattva undertones are even more striking. Bodhisattvas are enlightened beings who vow to remain within Samsara (the Wheel of Rebirth, the imperfect and illusion-filled world), despite the option to enter nirvana, in order to prevent suffering and assist others in reaching enlightenment. Her conversation with Elrond in S2.04, in which she talks about defending the weak as the duty of all elves, is a strong evocation of bodhicitta, the state of infinite compassion for all suffering beings. Her statement that she must fight Sauron to prevent further suffering is a clear statement of this conviction.

Obviously there are substantial differences between Buddhist and Tolkienien conceptualizations of suffering, and I'm not suggesting that any of this correlation has roots in Tolkien (although it may be present for the people involved in the show), but Galadriel is in many ways on a journey to overcome illusion, fear, ignorance, and attachment, and reach some state of enlightenment, so that she can better achieve her goal of preventing further suffering for the beings of Middle Earth.

There are some additional striking similarities between some of the other Eregion costuming and Vajrayana Buddhist iconography, which I may elaborate on later. But I just really enjoy thinking about Galadriel's journey as a bodhisattva's journey - and the more so because in Buddhism this is a path that is open to any being who seeks it, no matter where they start (Sauron, take note!)

[underprivilegedcactus]

It's totally fine if you don't think God!Gale and Ascended!Astarion endings are necessarily bad endings. I agree there's definitely some ambiguity when it comes to these outcomes, but there's something that people should consider: When writing a character, one of the things a writer can choose to focus on to build them out is to consider What They Want vs. What They Need.

Gale WANTS to become a god (eventually) to both show up Mystra and to help mortals the way he feels that gods should. What Gale NEEDS is to realise that he is enough as is, that he is more than just his power and any more strength he could aqcuire. Gale needs to have more confidence in his own self worth.

Astarion WANTS ultimate power so that no can ever hurt him or those he loves ever again. He wants to be so strong that no one would even try to harm him, and if they do he can effortlessly squash them. For him, it's only through power that he can ever be truly and forever free. What Astarion NEEDS is healing from centuries of cruelty through true friendship or even romantic love and to be seen as an equal, to take back control of his bodily autonomy and choices, and to become actually free from not only Cazador, but from becoming a slave to his darkest impulses that his rough life has exacerbated.

Sure, both Gale and Astarion are happy when they get what they want, but there's lots of hints that it's not what they really needed.

Gale becomes the god of ambition, which is never satisfied with its lot and will likely cause trouble for the pantheon down the line. It's also very clear that he lost a vital part of himself, and I don't think it's his connection with his mother or Tara, which are still important facets but are ultimately not the core of what he lost. It's the fact that he no longer cares about doing actual good for people, a key component of his former personality. One of the things I love about his character is that no matter how high he rose, mortal Gale still cared about helping people in positive ways. Ambition doesn't give a damn where its drive takes people, for better or for worse. Mortal Gale would be horrified if he knew that he influenced evil people to do worse things in the name of ambition. Mortal Gale would also be horrified that his god version openly admits to not offering ANYTHING to his followers, which is anathema to what Gale originally wanted godhood for. But hey, he got what he wants and he's happy, so that MUST be good, right?

Ascended Astarion has entirely lost any shred of his humanity, and is now a complete slave to his darkest desires. He no longer views his romantic partner as a person. They're just his most prized object, whether they want to be or not. He enslaves other people, inflicting on them the exact kind of bondage he had to deal with for two centuries, including the person he used to love. On top of all that, he loses his capacity to even recognize the wrongness of his actions. For all intents and purposes, Ascended Astarion becomes a megalomaniacal homicidal psychopath who's hunger knows no bounds. Worse, he has no way to ever recognise if this is a problem anymore or something he doesn't like. But again, he got what he wants and he's happy, so it MUST be a good thing, right?

There's nothing wrong if you still see these outcomes as good endings, or even just better endings than an outright "bad" ending. I see what you mean, and also, it's a video game and these are fictional characters, not people who can actually get hurt. Like so much media and art, it's really more of a thought experiment than any kind of moral indicator.

I do however implore you to consider why so many people, Larian included, don't see these outcomes as good, and in some ways perhaps even worse than other "bad" endings. A very common but very relevant trope in storytelling is "be careful what you wish for because you might just get it", and it's usually to remind us that getting what we want isn't always what's best for us in the long run.

[itskattkm]

New York New Rules Pt. 5

Warnings: Violence, Trauma, Fluff, maybe Smut, mental health, blood

Summary: Y/N meets the survivors of the last events in Woodsborrow and gets on Ghostface's list. But there is also a darkness in Y/N wich path is she going to choose

Female Y/N x Tara Carpenter

Sorry for bad writing. I'm using a translator and hope you guys can enjoy it. Also, this is going to be a slow burn

A/N damn guys I wrote that on the plane and what happens before I finished? I deleted everything by accident… and then I had to rewrite. What means, I couldn’t write it like I I did in my first draft. Hope you still like the chapter, and if I hadn’t rewrite it, well it would also be longer

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Now I stood here and made the pizza for the Woodsborrow Gang. I was basically free on Friday because of the therapy. Maria had even insisted on this herself because I worked here most of the time on the weekends. But now I didn't have a therapist anymore, how would I do it now? On the other hand, I had done it this way so far.

Heavy steps that just moved over the ground came closer to me and the next moment Maria kept me company. I would recognize Maria's steps of hundreds of meters. But to defend her at this point, she is already around 50 years old and had opened the pizzeria here with her family when they had emigrated from Italy to America. They wanted to get a taste of the American dream and in the end they got it too. Maria was a great inspiration at this point, she had always stuck to her wish, no matter how difficult the way there was. Thanks to the job with her, I always had the advantage of baking pizza when I wanted and as much as I wanted or I took something else from the restaurant with me. My mother doesn't feel that I was still eating pizza, but at least it was something. I always called it the pizza diet back then.

When suddenly something wet hit me on my neck I looked shocked at Maria she had hit me with her rag "Don't you think that's too many jalapeños?" She said with her arms crossed and looked skeptically at the pizza I had just topped "It was a special wish" I said with a smile. Now Maria raised her eyebrow, looked at me skeptically. Her brown hair with the caramel highlites had been put together into a messy bun when she said with a strong accent "Y/N you don't have to exaggerate right away, I hardly see the tomato sauce or the cheese" I grinned and looked at the pizza "that's still possible" she sighed "hopefully this is the first and last pizza you did this way“

Where would I be without Maria?

I listened to her while she was talking in Italian until she was finished. Now there was a short silence, she was interrupted by the entrance door. When it had opened and touched the bell. I degenerated on Maria's usual greeting, but it never came. Confused, I turned my gaze forward and wiped my hands on the black apron I was wearing around my hip. I took it off as I walked around the workplaces and ran towards the restaurant. When I stood at the door frame, I found Maria on the floor. Her eyes were wide open as she held her hand firmly on her neck. Blood.

She was flooded with blood and had leaned against the wall. Slowly my gaze wandered in and met him.

Ghostface. He was here...

I had held my breath in the hope of becoming invisible.

"Y/N I would have called you, but unfortunately I don't have your cell phone number," he said and looked at me crookedly.

My gaze wandered over the white empty face of him and got stuck in his black eyes.

"You could have called the pizzeria," I said before my brain could process any information and situation. Was that the adrenaline? Or did the survival instinct felt like that? Carefully, I took a step back and looked back to Maria. His knife was in her neck. Maybe she would survive? But there was already so much blood. Way too much... how could she stay so calm?

With her eyes she tried to tell me something when she looked at the kitchen several times. I understood and turned my attention back to Ghostface "you wouldn't have answered on your day off," he said.

Analyze. Analyze! I screamed in my head. Okay Y/N that was now the chance to take information with you. How often would I run through the Ghostface otherwise? Let alone survive?

Note one, he definitely seemed taller than me. So it must have been a man, but the robe made it very difficult to distinguish that. I understood why the killers had chosen this costume. Okay note, two he had a Voice distortion and then his face. Damn you couldn't see anything except a crooked look here and there. But wait... Note three...

"How do you know that I work here and have Fridays off? And since you don't have my number, maybe Mindy's statement wasn't so wrong... you're Ethan" I said cooler than I thought. Ghostface straightened up and did not answer. His body language told me that he was pissed off.

Fuck. The next moment he sprinted towards me so quickly that I almost stumbled when I ran back into the kitchen. I reached for everything I found to put as many obstacles in his way as possible. After I had made a round around the work surface, I grabbed the noodle wood and threw it on his face on the way to the restaurant. However, I only missed him there slightly. So I grabbed every chair in the restaurant I got into my hands and threw them mercilessly at him. If I could do something well, then it was to throw chairs!

When I hit him again, he fell to the ground. That was my chance! I grabbed another chair and started hitting him with it. There it was, the anger. Fear? No, I wasn't afraid.

Suddenly Ghostface was able to reach for the chair and now turned the tables when he began to press it firmly against me.

I fell hard with my back on the floor.

No. No. No. I quickly tried to get up, but realized that I had slipped and was now in a blood trail. My gaze followed the blood pool and I found Maria lying on the floor next to the small reception. No... my gaze continued to follow her tips that she had left behind and there was the phone itself, it hung down the wall.

The next moment, Ghostface lay over me and pushed me firmly to the ground. He put both hands around my neck and began to choke me. No. I certainly wouldn't die now! Not after what Maria had done. And then there was this feeling again but I couldn't say if it was the adrenaline. I grabbed Ghostface firmly by the shoulders "Fuck you!" I screamed and hit my head against his. His grips left my body and he groaned in pain. I fell back exhausted and suddenly he took a knife over me the next moment. Ghostface pulled out and I would immediately be hit by a pain that I couldn’t avoid... but what I could do was to decide where this pain would hit me. With a force that I never expected, the knife came towards me and pierced my left hand when I came to meet the knife with it. Trembling, I resisted him a few centimeters above my face. Why didn't I feel any pain? I asked myself now, I barely took how the blade had drilled through my hand. I looked into the black of his eyes and screamed as he began to move the blade in my hand. He would cut my hand in half just between my fingers and I couldn't do anything about it. On the contrary, I continued to exert pressure to push him away from me. I felt his strength read and could perceive his astonishment despite the mask.

Piece by piece I felt the metal destroying every one-liner muscle and that tendon. Only a few centimeters were missing and my hand wouldn’t be one piece.

Just when I thought my cry would be the last thing I would hear and ghostface's face would be the last I saw before my death, a sound appeared that I never thought I would feel safe of it.

Sirens. Ghostface resistance disappeared from now on. I smiled dirty at him and whispered " now you're fucked!" His gaze fell to the window. The red and blue lights of the siren were reflected in the white of his mask.

And then he gave me one last look and ran into the kitchen. The door was torn open and I was met with a relief that I would never have wished for. Kirby held her gun in position and glanced through the restaurant, behind her a SWAT team and some police officers.

When my vision deteriorated and the pain hit me like a bullet in the chest, I croaked "K -Kirby" and I no longer had to stare at the darkness, I saw in Kirby's eyes that were as bright as the sky. Worried, she looked at me "kitchen" I whispered and let my head fall back. " Hurry up!" She called out to the team and was by my side the next moment. I shook my head "Maria..." Kirby followed my gaze and I recognized so many feelings in her at once, but she managed to collect them and gave clear instructions. Her gaze fell on the police officers "paramedics immediately!" Already a group of them stormed in and they gathered around Maria.

Was she still living? Did she have another chance? I had to know I had to see her.

"Why cant I see anything!" I said without a voice and shook my head. Kirby straightened up much carefully and leaned my upper body over hers as she pressed me into her arms and began to wipe over my face.

"Tell me that you can save her! "I called the paramedics in my half voice. I hadn't realized how much I had screamed while Ghostface was about to kill me.

I began to breathe hard. Kirby's grip around me became stronger and she wiped away more and more of my tears. So they were the reason why I couldn't see.

"Williams... I need you here," Kirby said sternly and one of the paramedics turned around. He came to my side and raised my arm to look at my hand.

My head burned and pounded... my voice was now just a soft whisper. "I -I was so scared Kirby... i -I thought I was dying" tormented she looked at me and nodded "everything will be fine Y/N" I shook my head "no... no it won't"

I resisted her grip and wanted to stand up, I wanted to destroy something. I wanted to hurt Someone like I was hurt and there I was hit by a small sting on the upper arm. Confused, I saw to my right upper arm " fuuuck..." I whispered before everything got dark I began to fall.

[starberry-cupcake]

The thing that gets me about My Immortal (the fic) is that it's so pristine in how the chronotope operates in it that, whether or not it was a troll fic, there was an incredibly deep knowledge of the time and culture it spawned from in order to make it so impressively referential.

Troll fics that are meant to ridicule don't tend to be as impressively and swiftly tied to the perspective they're referencing, because the idea of being "better than" always ends up breaking the illusion of belonging to what they're making fun of.

For example, the most famous self-insert troll fic of all time has to be A Trekkie's Tale, because people have come to use the term "Mary Sue" outside of the fanfiction world, even unknowing of the fact that that's where it originated from.

But A Trekkie's Tale uses the clear perspective of the fandom side that was doing the ridiculing (in terms of those days, we could say Trekkers) to tell the story as if it was from the perspective of the side being ridiculed (Trekkies). Basically, it's the narrative of the Trekkie fantasy told through condescending Trekker perspective, if you will.

Of course, there wasn't in it an intent of making it pass for anything other than a satire and intending to make fun of a portion of the fanbase that the author and some of the fanzines didn't align with. But, because of that, it says more about the fandom division at the time and what kind of content each side was willing to entertain, more than it does tell us about the Trekkie mindset it was trying to ridicule.

My Immortal, to anyone who was remotely involved in an alternative/emo/goth/etc. online community (especially those that also had some sort of media tie-in, like books, anime, etc.) in 2006-2009, is like Remy's ratatouille.

Even if you didn't listen to the same bands, didn't write in the same way, didn't want to dress in the same fashion Ebony was sporting and even if you made fun of the fic at the time; if you were there, the sense of late 2000s nostalgia it sets in motion is so strong, it's impressive.

This is so intense that the fandom the fic was set in is so unimportant to its context development that you could swap it with anything else and the online culture it spawned from would be just as clearly visible and the fic would still hold the same power. It could have been Twilight just as easily (especially pre-movies Twilight fandom), and for what we know of Tara, she was into Twilight as well, which checks out with the entire persona her and Raven were embodying.

This is common ground for any self-insert fanfic that is inherently created from a place of wish fulfillment because, in them, the only elements relevant to storytelling that are picked from canon are the ones that serve the purpose of the author's ideal representation. But, with My Immortal, there wasn't just a personal representation of wish fulfillment but a synchronic approach (in linguistic terms) to collective late 2000s online alter culture.

The grammar and vernacular of early My Immortal chapters is incredibly reminiscent to Quizilla at that time, to a point of fluency that is too uncanny to be forced and, if it was, it'd be an incredibly impressive feat. The detailed description of outfits, which are narratively uncomfortable, make for a time capsule of fashion idealism, not necessarily realistic but composed of idealized elements, which in tow bring up references not of actual things but of a collective mindset of the intersection between self-made counter-culture ideal and marketable accessibility to mainstream stores.

I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said before but, the more time passes and the more obscure references like "detailed Quizilla results with emo pics or anime illustrations" become to the general public, the more I can recognize the knowledge of a time and a space that My Immortal was holding and how deep it had to be in order to represent it in a way in which the line between troll and intentional, especially when paired up with its sister fic I'm Not Okay, becomes incredibly blurry.

This is also why anyone who was anywhere near this type of culture online can tell when someone who claims to have been the author is lying. The level of involvement that permeates the entire thing can't be faked, whether it was troll-made or not, and you can tell when someone was not in it. You can tell, in other words, when Miss Tara Gilesbie would have called them out for being part of the fkng prepz.

[gaelic-symphony]

3, 4, 6 and 10 for violence asks bestie 🔥

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

*insert every incorrect quotes post that portrays Emily as some incompetent idiot chaos goblin who breaks everything and every rule and is always in trouble*

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

Someone said they didn't like Emily and thought Hotch was justified in treating her like shit in her first few episodes because of course he knew he couldn't trust her 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

Again, I have to pick just ONE???? Okay, I'll narrow it down to a few.

Hotchniss- This ship is a hate crime. It's awful. Even if Emily weren't very obviously a lesbian it would still be awful because it is absolutely DRIPPING with internalized misogyny. They'll turn Emily--man-hating, fiercely independent, anti-patriarchal Emily--into little Suzie homemaker so that they can project their Hotch fantasies onto her. They practically turn her into an OC because the thing is, they don't ACTUALLY care about Emily. They just have an easier time projecting themselves onto her and turning her into the "not like other girls" self-insert than they do with JJ or Penelope.

Emily/just about any man- For the most part, if you ship Emily with a man, you just don't get her character AT ALL. Demily is the one exception. I personally recognize that Emily is a lesbian, but she and Derek have such a strong connection that I'm willing to bend on that if the Demily is really well done. But everyone else who ships Emily with a man just wildly misunderstands her character and doesn't care about anything except fantasizing sex between two characters they personally find attractive.

Hotchreid- Listen, there are plenty of Hotchreid shippers who are wonderful people, and plenty of Hotchreid fics and art that are perfectly nice and lovely! But Hotchreid is also like the go-to ship for people who only care about male characters and m/m fics and would rather die than admit that female characters can be complete humans deserving of their own narratives, let alone actually READ a femslash fic, god forbid!

and honestly, I know I'm gonna get heat for this, but...

Jemily- It's only a small segment of the Jemily shippers, and is IN NO WAY reflective of my feelings on the actual ship. I like Jemily! I read Jemily! I write Jemily! But there are some Jemily shippers out there who are SO laser focused on this one ship that they're unwilling to acknowledge anything else. They're unwilling to see that Emily also has great chemistry with Penelope and Tara, or that Jemily in canon is actually kind of a hot mess.

10. worst part of fanon

the rampant misogyny, racism, and lesbophobia

[princesslynn199]

My Top Five Animated Movie Voice Overs

Growing up in the early 2000’s, there were so many celebrated voice actors and actresses that were in exemplary animated films. I feel as though I based my childhood on Animated movies that were produced by Disney and pixar. As a child, I was captivated by the pastel colors, the plots about friendship that these animated films portrayed. Animated movies had an extremely positive impact on my childhood and there are voice actors that are still engraved in my head to this day. 

The first actor that comes to my mind is Tom Hanks. As a child, I was delighted by the voice of him as Woody from Toy Story and as the conductor from Polar Express. Each Christmas, I remember watching these movies and will always be able to recognize Tom Hanks' voice. The second actor that comes to mind is Jim Carrey. I always watched the Dr.Seuss movies which consisted of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. I feel a sort of nostalgia when I watch these movies and hear the voice of Jim Carrey. It feels like I am able to tap into my inner child. The third actor that comes to mind is Tara Strong. She plays characters from Timmy Turner, Powerpuff Girls and Teen Titan. Although these are not movies but T.V shows, I can recognize her voice extremely quickly because of how prevalent she was in the early 2000 animated films. For the last two animated voice actors, I always think of Chris Rock, Eddie Murphy and Mike Myers. Growing up I loved watching Madagascar and Everybody Hates Chris. Most importantly I loved watching Shrek, I watched it continuously as a child and even to this day I love watching Shrek because of all of the innuendos in it. Being able to tap into my inner child while listening to all of these voice actors from my childhood brings me peace like no other. 

[sierraraeck]

The Better Kisser

BAU x Bi!Fem!Reader

Emily x Bi!Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After finding out that you haven’t had very many kissing experiences, the team realizes you’re the perfect candidate to judge who the best kisser on the team is.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: As you may have guessed, lots of kissing.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Just a little something that popped into my head that I just needed to write. This is technically an AU where the members of the team are Hotch, Rossi, Spencer, Penelope, Derek, Emily, JJ, Luke, and Tara. Everyone is single.

It was true. You hadn’t kissed very many people. You decided long ago that it wasn’t really in the cards for you, dating and kissing and relationships, that is, so yeah. You weren’t what one would call an ‘experienced kisser.’ Your friends had teased you for it, but you’d always shrugged it off. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

You’d never thought it’d be something to be grateful for either, until tonight.

It’d been a long, hard case, and everyone was dying to get out of the stupid office, and away from those stupid files, so that you could all finally relax, maybe even have some fun. You’d only been with the team for about three months, and it was like an entire whirlwind throwing you this way and that. You also hadn’t gotten to know the team too well either, considering how busy you all constantly were. Your first week on the job, they went out for drinks after a case, but you were so exhausted that you left after the first round.

There hadn’t been time, or energy, since then for the team to spend quality, relaxed time together. That’s why tonight was extra exciting.

“You’re telling me that throughout all of highschool, all of college, you haven’t kissed more than two people?” Derek asked incredulously. You couldn’t fully remember how you’d all gotten onto the subject, except that you had. You were sitting on Garcia’s squishy couch, littered with colorful pillows and all sorts of stuffed animals. Garcia had decided that instead of going out to a bar, you were all going to go over to her place, minus Hotch and Rossi who tapped out early.

You shrugged. “Nope. I had one boyfriend and one drunk kiss, both of which were bad experiences for me. I’ve kind of avoided all of that since then.” You explained, “Plus, when would I have time for that? Between my college studies and getting into the FBI, then BAU, I didn’t really have free time.”

“I mean, sure, I guess,” Derek continued, “but come one. There had to be guys falling at your feet!”

You laughed. “Not all of us have that kind of draw, Derek.” He nudged you, and you nudged him back with a wink.

He was right, though. You were stunning. Even when you just put your hair up and wore sweatpants, there was just something about you. You would probably look good in a trash bag. But men were not just falling at your feet. Even if they were, you wouldn’t notice, putting all of your energy into chasing your dreams instead. You thought that was a very reasonable, and responsible, thing of you to do.

Plus, you’d done the whole boyfriend thing, and weren’t really interested in trying it again. Well, not as interested as you were in trying the whole girlfriend thing. And your first day on the job, a certain badass brunette caught your eye, and was even the first one to make you really feel like part of the team. You were finding it harder and harder to resist her pull.

“Yeah Derek,” JJ chimed in, drawing your attention back to the conversation, “Not all of us can rack up eight phone numbers and five make out sessions in one night.”

“What can I say?” Derek beamed, pride shining in his eyes. “I’m a great kisser.” Emily snorted. When Derek glared at her, she pressed her lips together and looked down. “What?”

“Nothing,” Emily sang, shaking her head with an air of mischief.

“No seriously, what?”

“It’s just that if you read girls half as well as you claim to, you might wonder if that’s always the case.” Derek’s jaw hung open, and Emily smirked at him with unabashed confidence. You stared at her and her piercing eyes, and you couldn’t help but admire how sexy she was when she was confident, smug even.

“Wow, you’re gonna go there?” Derek asked, feigning hurt disbelief, “And how would you know that?”

Again, Emily shrugged and nonchalantly stated, “Because I know how women act when they kiss me. And trust me. They’re actually enjoying themselves.”

Some ‘ooh’s radiated throughout the room, and based on the look Penelope had plastered to her face, things were about to get good.

You watched in amusement as Derek sat up a little straighter, “Is that a challenge?”

“If you want it to be.” Emily’s brows shot up.

“Alright, you’re on,” Derek nodded, determination radiating off of him.

“Well, I don’t know how strong either of your games are,” Luke spoke up, glancing quickly over at Spencer who was just observing the whole encounter, “but I think I could take on both of you.”

“No you could not,” Tara sneered from beside him.

“And you could?” Luke challenged.

Setting her glass down, Tara replied, “Yes.”

You giggled at the thought of the four of them having a kiss-off, just imagining how utterly chaotic that would be due to all of their extraordinarily competitive natures.

“Oh my god, this is going to be so fun!” Penelope squealed. “Now we just have to figure out who’s going to judge!”

“We can’t really use one of us because some people might be biased or recognize the kisser,” Emily casually stated. It took a moment for you to realize what she’d just admitted to. Who on the team has kissed before? But before you could really start thinking about it, you noticed that everyone’s gaze had slowly turned to you.

“What is happening right now?” you questioned, looked between them.

The five of them exchanged excited, knowing looks before training their attention back on you. Then you got it. “Are you serious?”

“You’re the only one who hasn’t kissed one of us!” Derek explained, as if it were obvious.

“You mean…” you trailed off, but again couldn’t complete the thought before someone interrupted.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Penelope promised. “And you seem like you’d be a very neutral judge.”

“Not to mention,” Tara added, “You’re a pretty blank slate since you haven’t really kissed anyone.”

“Don’t worry though, we’ll show you a good time,” Derek assured with a wink.

Heads nodded. You were a bit worried that there would be some hurt feelings by the end of this, but they were all adults, and the appeal to kiss all of them, along with their eager faces, became enough to convince you to say yes.

“Yes!” Derek exclaimed. He looked pointedly at Emily, “It is so on.”

She just rolled her eyes. “Pen, do you have a blindfold?”

“A what?” you asked.

“Well we can’t have you getting biased on us. This has to be strictly about kissing.” Hearing her explain it with such reason hampered your growing nerves a bit. Like you’d said, you hadn’t kissed very many people and you were worried how much better they were going to be at it than you.

You reminded yourself that this was more about them than you, and tried to use that to calm yourself down. You were about to be kissed by some of the most attractive people you’d met. This was definitely not a bad place to be.

While Penelope rummaged through her belongings to get a makeshift blindfold, Luke convinced Spencer to join and JJ decided to participate.

Pretty soon, they had you seated in a chair, another one across from you, waiting for whoever was going to go first, while Emily explained some ground rules. “We are going to go in rounds. We will each kiss her and then after every round, Y/N will eliminate one of us based on the number in the round we kissed her so she doesn’t know who it is. No touching. You can’t use your hands in any way, this has to purely be about the kiss. And kiss however you normally would, no matter what that means for you.”

“No hands?” Spencer questioned. You were still surprised that he’d agreed to join, let alone ask a question like that. Luke gave him an odd look from behind while Emily confirmed the rule.

“Your hands might give away who you are, and again, this is just about the kiss.”

“Alright, alright, let’s just get started,” Derek complained, as Penelope tied the blindfold behind your head.

Now that you couldn’t see, you relied on your hearing to figure out what was happening. You heard some shuffling and disgruntled whispering, then you heard the chair across from you slide across the floor toward you. You waited anxiously as the person leaned in and pressed their lips to yours.

Their lips were plush and soft, but the kiss seemed a little too forced. It was a bit excited and you could feel their smile as they started pulling away. It was a pretty good kiss, definitely better than your previous two, despite the fact that it only lasted a few seconds. You couldn’t help but try and guess who it was, thinking it was either Penelope or Tara.

The next person who sat down completely blew the person before them out of the water. It was a much longer kiss and the person even swiped their tongue across your bottom lip for entry. You weren’t really thinking as you gave them access, the heat in your body starting to rise. You just hoped that your face wasn’t giving any of that heat away, so you were almost grateful that the person pulled away.

There was a bout of silence, which made you feel a little awkward, but soon enough, you heard the cushion squish down across from you. Their knee knocked yours, as you assumed they crossed their legs. Being a profiler, you were very used to picking up on body language with your eyes, making it kind of fun to try and pick up those same behavioral cues with all of your other senses. This person, you could tell, was very hesitant. You couldn’t say you were surprised when the person really only pecked you on the lips.

Number four in the line up started out pretty good, but you felt them start shaking or something halfway through. You quickly realized that they were laughing and you pulled back. You couldn’t help but smile when you asked, “Why are you laughing?”

Up until then, they had laughed pretty silently, but once you called them out, they just full out chuckled. “I’m sorry!” Tara unapologetically said through more laughs. “I couldn’t help it. I blame Luke.”

You laughed with her as you playfully shook your head. “You were doing so well up until then!”

“I know!” she agreed.

“I guess this means you’re out?” you half questioned.

Tara gave an over dramatic sigh, but you could hear the smile in her voice as she stated, “I guess so.” As she walked away, Luke gave a small ‘ow,’ and you assumed she’d hit him. You wondered what about this was Luke’s fault? Had he said something to her?

Either way, someone took her spot across from you. They wasted no time leaning in and putting their lips on yours. The kiss started out slow and gentle, like they were easing you into it. But gradually, as you both became more used to the other, it picked up pace, your mouths starting to move in sync. It felt like all of their energy was focused on you and exploring your mouth with their tongue. It was by far the most passionate kiss you’d experienced, and you tried to hide the pout from your face as they pulled back, chasing their lips for only a second before remembering there was an audience, and a competition.

Person number six was … good. You couldn’t really describe it. They used, what now seemed to you to be, a medium amount of tongue, for a medium amount of time. It was a good kiss, you weren’t saying it wasn’t, it just didn’t have any quirk or something unique that stood out. It was just … good. You knew Tara was out, so you tried to guess who that person could be. You thought maybe JJ, or possibly Luke, but you couldn’t be sure.

The final person who kissed you was intense. They had plump, captivating lips, but the way they kissed verged on overwhelming. They were also a little sloppy in their movements, and it was like you could tell they weren’t fully invested. Distracted, maybe? Again, not bad, but nothing like some of the other kissers.

The air was hot and heavy as Emily spoke up. “Okay, we’ve all gone. You know Tara is out, she was number four, so who else from this round would you eliminate?”

You pretended to think about it, even though it actually wasn’t that hard to pick. “I think it was person number three.” The person who just sort of pecked me, you thought, but didn’t say.

The players were now down to five, and they went in the same order as they had before, minus person number three, who you guessed was Spencer, and Tara.

This round made you even more confused about who was who than the round before. The excited one you guessed was either Luke or Penelope, the intimate one you thought was Derek, the passionate one you thought was either Luke or Emily, the average one you thought was JJ, and the sloppy, intense one you had no idea about.

By the end of that round, you eliminated person number one, the overly excited, verging on too hard kisser.

The next round was a no brainer. The intimate kisser, Derek you thought, upped his game. He kissed you for longer, used a bit more tongue, but was still somehow gentle. If you thought he’d upped his game, you weren’t prepared for person number two. They also upped their game, keeping your mouths molded together for longer than before, something you were more than happy about. You couldn’t quite place exactly what it was about their kiss, maybe that it seemed so perfectly balanced, incorporated the perfect amount of everything, or something else, but they were absolutely magnetic. It sent electric waves through your body, making you feel a little tingly. You felt sort of bad for the average kisser, most likely JJ, because they had to follow that up. And finally the sloppy kisser, who you still couldn’t place. They didn’t up their game at all. If anything, they felt more distracted by the minute, and pulled away earlier than the rest.

“Person number four,” you stated when Tara asked who was getting eliminated.

It was now down to three; the intimate kisser, you predicted Derek, the passionate kisser, either Luke or Emily, and the average kisser, probably JJ.

There was some shuffling, a faint whispering, a small ‘ow,’ and then Tara spoke up again. “Now that there are only three left, as long as you are okay with it, they want to use their hands.”

You tried to downplay the excitement you were feeling with this new rule, but you were sure their trained ears could hear it in the way you said, “Yes, that’s good with me.”

The seat across from you suddenly became occupied, but before anything could happen, Tara quickly jumped in. “Wait. Y/N, you can’t use your hands.” When you pouted a little, she explained, “Well if you did, you’d definitely know who is who, so…”

You sighed, but agreed, waiting in anticipation for the person across from you to touch you.

It started soft, their long fingers brushing over your cheeks as they leaned in. Soon enough, though, the entirety of their hands were firmly cupping your face and pulling you ridiculously close, close enough to feel some of their body heat. It was intimate, and again made you feel like the most important person to whoever those lips and hands belonged to. You rubbed your thumb into your palm, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch them, but you knew you couldn’t. Your sole focus was on them, them on you, and you had to say it was one of the best kisses of the night.

That person made you feel like the most important person in the world, but the next person kissed you like you were the only person in the world. They started out by tucking your hair behind your ear, then slowly sliding their fingers back into the loose strands. As they started to kiss you, they moved their other hand behind your head, cradling the back of your neck. The person before them had captured your focus, but this person erased any thoughts your mind was capable of forming. You couldn’t think about anything other than the way their tongue moved against yours, and the shiver they sent down your spine as one of their hands traveled the length of it, coming to rest just above your hip, strong, confident fingers pulling you closer. It was a moment you never wanted to end, and one that left you in a cold shock when it eventually did.

You almost didn’t even want the last person to kiss you because of how you knew it would never come close to what you’d just experienced, but a competition was a competition. The third person kissed you similarly to how they’d done before, good but nothing special, their hands resting comfortably on your hips.

When it was all over, you asked, “Can I take off the blindfold now? I know who the winner is.”

“Sure, but announce who first,” Tara suggested.

“Okay,” you agreed. “The third person got third, the first person got second, and the second person was the winner. Can I take the blindfold off now?” you asked again. You were eager to find out who was who. When you didn’t get an immediate response warning you not to, you stood up and quickly ripped it off to quite the amusing sight. Spencer looked as bright as a cherry, Penelope looked shocked but proud, Tara was smirking, Luke’s eyes were the size of beach balls, JJ looked indifferent, Emily was smirking, and Derek looked like he’d just been shot. “So are you going to tell me who was who?”

Without answering, Emily took two large strides toward you and placed her lips back on yours. One of her hands slid back into your hair while the other rested above your waist, and you smiled into the kiss. Of course it was you, you thought. When she pulled away, you were both smiling like idiots, and she gave you a single eyebrow raise as you both turned to look at Derek.

“I got third?” he asked, still in a state of bewilderment.

“What?” you asked, just as shocked as he was. “I thought you got second.”

Emily snorted. “You thought Spencer was Derek?”

What?! You spun to face Spencer, the person you were sure got out the first round, and he was still blushing like he’d been out in the sun for far too long. “You took second?” He nodded nervously. You beamed at him, causing him to return a shy smile, then look down at his fiddling hands. “You’re a really good kisser,” you complimented.

Derek repeated, “I took third? Emily, I guess I kinda get,” she rolled her eyes at that, “but Pretty Boy?”

You shrugged, and Luke jumped in, though not nearly as harsh as Derek had been. “Yeah, I took fourth, but Spencer got second?”

You offered him a cheeky smile, remembering how distracted he felt while kissing you, and the not-so-subtle glances he constantly made at Spencer all the time. You took the opportunity to encourage whatever was going on there. “He did. Like I said, he’s a good kisser. Very intimate, like I was the only one on his mind. You should try kissing him sometime. Might help you feel less distracted.” You winked and Spencer looked like he wanted to evaporate. Luke, on the other hand, was just staring at Spencer, and you could see the gears spinning in his head. He finally mumbled a ‘what the hell’ before pulling Spencer to him by the back of his neck. Spencer seemed immediately surprised, but recovered quite quickly, no hesitation to his movements after the initial shock. They kissed each other probably exactly how they’d just kissed you, Spencer’s hands cupping Luke’s face, Luke’s hands resting on the back of Spencer’s neck and lower back. Although, you’d have to say that Luke looked a bit more focused than he’d been with you. You laughed while some of the other members hooted. This was something that’d been a long time coming.

When they pulled away, Luke nodded. “Y/N, I definitely agree with you.”

Spencer smiled, and playfully nudged Luke as he said, “Y/N, I also agree with you.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, but he was smiling the brightest he had in a while.

Derek was still a mess, not enjoying the moment as much as he usually would’ve, and asked, “What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured, “You’re a good kisser, but there’s just nothing too special about it. It’s kinda just…”

Emily and Derek looked at you expectantly before Emily got it. “Wait. Are you calling him average?”

She looked way too excited for the occasion, but she was right. He was just kinda average. You nonchalantly admitted, “I guess.”

Derek let his hands fall to his sides with a slap, his mouth still hanging open. Emily’s lips curled up into a sly smile as she placed a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Not everyone can be as good as me.” He shrugged her hand off his shoulder, and she held out her hand. Derek reached into his back pocket producing his wallet, and grudgingly slapped a crumpled $20 into her open palm. You gawked at them, not realizing that they’d placed a bet on their skills.

Emily returned to your side, closer than she’d really ever stood to you before, and gave you a smile that seemed on the shyer side for her, biting her lip as she peered at you through her lashes. You mirrored her shy smile, pressing your lips together as heat quickly spread to your cheeks. You turned back to the rest of the conversation that demanded your attention, people wanting to know why you eliminated them. But you couldn’t help glancing over at Emily every now and then, and couldn’t hide your joy when you saw that she was gazing back.

Who knows? Maybe that night was going to be the start of two great relationships in the BAU.

@90spumkin

[championofnyx]

Misperception of Issues and Lack of Treatment Part 3: The Exceptions That Make the Rule

In season three, episode 21, we see Gar and Vic talking about Vic’s new found controle over his post-metron cleanse technological implants and mentioned that he and Megan have been talking about the stages of grieve, personally about the life he once thought he would live and the body he had lost, and were he was in this journey, implying ongoing conversation throughout this process. In season four we see him fully accepting his new situation, a new member of the justice league, and having matured enough to actively help his friends in their own journeys to self acceptance, both as a supporter and as an advice giver. 

While Vic’s treatment was delicately integrated through dialogue, we got to see more of Gar’s throughout season four. Coming to terms with the death of several loved ones, including his mother, the doom patrol, Wally, and Conner assisted through therapy, medication, a support animal, and his friends capping off a season long downward spirit further into a depressive episode. Vic and Gar received a level of support that was either nonexistent or short lived in the cases of Mary and Brion, so why were their needs properly addressed? 

On average ~50% of patients that suffer from various mental illnesses feel involved in their treatment decisions, including a diagnosis. ~55% feel they were given time to express their needs and ask about treatment, and ~20% believe that they didn’t receive the treatment needed. These statistics are pulled from sample ages of 5-32, the age group of both characters, Kalder being the older at 26 and the youngest being Cass or Tara (I think) at 16 with its current audience being pulled from around this age group, accounting for five years older and younger. 

Positive reputation of addressing and managing mental illness: therapy, actively engaging with your road to healing, medication when needed are all shown, both in the case of Gar and Vic, but it would be accurate to portray mental health struggles as something that is always addressed, diagnosed, and treated properly. It’s important to show that there are gaps within our real world health system reflected in the media, and even more for us, the audience, to understand that the actions of these characters made in moments of vulnerability and instability can be explained, if not always excused. 

This being said, why were Vic and Gar’s struggles noticed by others? There wasn’t a change in behavior that implied self-healing. With Mary, she stopped forming into Sergeant Marvel, Brion tempered his anger, allowing those around them to believe that the issue had been properly addressed and didn’t require further involvement. Vic wasn’t adjusting, he continued self-isolation even after a change in environment (moving to the hub) and Gar’s downward spiral never gave a momentary glimpse that it was taking an upward trajectory. In simpler terms, they were constantly fighting their problems, which made them easier to recognize, much as it is in the real world. Going through phases of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ mental health can be viewed as dramatized or not something deserving of proper treatment because it’s not ‘as bad as others have it’ while those who show consistent, and after downward trending, mental states are viewed as ‘deserving’ of treatment. Of course, this is not every case, but there is a strong correlation between the display of symptoms and treatment. 

Young Justice is attempting to accurately describe mental illness in hopes that members of its audience who have experienced similar struggles are able to relate, as well as hopefully give others the courage to seek help if it’s not being provided to them. But it would be inaccurate to display everyone’s journey to recovery as a linear progress that was helped and supported by everyone around them. So instead of showing one happy ending narrative of mental illness that is only achievable in preferable circumstances, the writers have instead decided to provide several. 

All this to be said, the fallen heroes previously mentioned fell not because of some inherent moral corruption, but rather as a result of manipulation that could have only occurred due to a lack of treatment and support. If you feel a connection or sympathy to them, you are not an inherently bad human because neither of them are inherently bad humans. Their stories were written to be compelling to audiences, as all characters should be, so don’t feel wrong for being compelled. 

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Bruises

Request: @whormotional​ asked: “hi i have recently become obsessed with your writing! youre like the best luke writing on this app i swear. could you do one where the female reader gets kidnapped on a case and tortured and just like luke and the team saving her and luke being there for her later that night pls”

Word count: 5.4k

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​​ , @lcvischmitt​​ , @ogmilkis​​ , @goldenalvez​​ , @ssa-morgan​​ ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1​​ , @pinkdiamond1016​​ , @yourwonderbelle​​, @rachelxwayne​ , @sc4rletw1tch​ , @ellvswriting

Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, gun tw, blood mention

A/N: love angsty requests thank youuu. hope youu enjoy!!

You wake up to the taste of blood in your mouth.  Your breath was ragged and shallow as you shook yourself out of a deep sleep. It was the first sense you were able to regain, but before you could force your eyes open, you felt the  pulsing pain coming from the back of your head.  It shot down your neck and around to the front of your forehead, making you wince.  

Images from the dream you had been having were still clear in your mind.  You had dreamt of Luke.  Maybe you dreamt about him because he occupied most of your thoughts, or maybe it was because his face had been the last thing you saw before blacking out.  You remembered seeing his brown eyes- usually warm and inviting, turn wide with worry as they didn’t quite meet your gaze.  It was like he was staring at something behind you. 

You saw him raise his gun and aim it slightly to your left.  You had been just about to ask him what was wrong before he opened his mouth to warn you.  His words were inaudible, though, as the blow that suddenly hit the back of your head had ensnared all of your senses.  The look on his face was what lingered in your mind now.  You tried desperately to memorize all of his features- the lines around his eyes and the way his hairline curved around his face.  You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, thinking of his tan skin and stubble beard. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, because you knew that wherever you were and whatever had happened to you, wasn’t good. 

…

When Luke comes to, he’s propped up against a cold wall and there are voices around him.  A headache was pulsing behind his eyes as he finally cracked his eyelids, eyelashes fluttering on his first few attempts. 

The blurry faces of Emily and Tara slowly start to come into focus as he wakes up.  He sees Tara sigh a breath of relief when her gaze meets his own. 

“Thank God,” she exhales quietly. 

Blood.  There was blood running down his head. And there was a bloodstained brick lying close to him. 

“Luke,” Emily’s voice is louder.  “What happened?”

“He came out of nowhere-” Luke states, he raises his hand to find the spot on his forehead that throbbed.  When Luke pulls away, there’s blood on his fingers.  Suddenly, images of the incident reentered his mind.  “I tried to shoot- but I didn’t want to hit her-”

“Where is Y/N?” Emily asks calmly. 

Just the mere mention of your name makes Luke sit up straighter.  The sudden movement makes his head wobbly, but he ignores it.

“Woah, take it easy,” Emily instructs. She puts her hand out to steady him. 

Luke falls back against the wall.  “She’s not here?” he asks, panic and fear flooding his insides. 

Instead of a yes or a no, Emily states, “We’ll find her.”

...

When you do finally open your eyes, you find that you're sitting in the corner of a dingy room, arms and legs bound to the worn chair.  The room reminded you of a basement, concrete walls with pipes and ducts running along the ceiling between the hanging lightbulbs that were much too bright without covers.  

You blink your eyes a few times, trying to make everything stop blurring together, but it seems impossible. 

You gasp, chest constructing at the sharp pain suddenly shooting up your left side. You breathe through your nose, trying to will down the panic and fear that’s engulfed you.  Each breath pulled in the strong presence of mold and mildew, making you want to gag.    

There’s a man in the corner of the room fiddling with something.  His back was turned to you until he realized you were conscious again.  He begins approaching slowly.  You recognize his wild hair and narrow eyes almost instantly.  

From the information Garcia had gathered online earlier, the man’s name was Greg Atwood. And he was your Unsub.   

You and the rest of the team had been called to Seattle over a week ago- after the third body showed up.  Once Seattle PD made the connection between the victims, it was clear their problem was severe enough for reinforcements.  You had worked the case just like any other- analyzing victimology, creating a geographic profile, combing the crime scenes. It became glaringly obvious that you were dealing with a professional, someone who killed efficiently and knew how to clean up their mess.  And when Emily sent you and Luke to interview the witness who found the latest body, neither one of you had any idea you were about to walk into the arms of the apparent killer himself. But the profile the team had established, fit.  

When Atwood opens his mouth to speak, his evil smile makes you cringe.  “You’re awake,” is all he states.  His voice is filled with venom. 

You jerk, thrashing against the restraints that bind you. The man steps forward, his finger trailing along the barrel of his gun. He smiles confidently, but it’s his eyes that burn into your brain.  

“What do you want from me?” you ask.  You knew all too well how these interactions went, but you were desperate to stall. 

The man looks at you for a long moment before inhaling deeply.  But he doesn’t speak. 

You blink again, trying to rack your brain and remember the profile.  What would buy you some time?

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek- a habit Luke had always given you shit for.  You briefly wonder if you’d ever get to hear him lecture you about it again. 

You tug at the restraints again, testing it.  But there’s no give. 

“What do you want?” you try again.  

Atwood takes another step closer, creepy smile still in place.  “I want to know how you found me,” he says simply. 

You bite your lip.  He takes your hesitation as an invitation to talk more.  “You see,” his voice trails. “I was very careful.  I cleaned up my mess, I didn’t leave behind a single trace of DNA.”

“We didn’t find you with DNA, we found you with our profile.” He didn’t need to know you and Luke had originally thought he was a witness. 

His smirk returns.  “Right,” he says, like he doesn’t quite believe it.  He turns his back to you and walks back towards the corner of the room he originally came from.  He hoists something up, you can’t quite tell what it is until he turns around with it in his hands.  It’s a tripod, and attached at the top is a camera. 

Your chest feels tight again- you didn’t like where any of this was going. 

The tripod is placed about six feet in front of you.  Atwood adjusts the angle a bit before pressing a button.  A light flashes red before he turns to look at you again.  His smile has faded. 

“Tell me where she is,” he orders. 

Your eyes widen, but you don’t speak. 

He waits, only a moment, before saying it again.  “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

You clench your jaw.  

“I know you know where she is.  She is your Unit Chief after all, isn’t she?”

You ignore his question.  “Is my team seeing this?” you ask, nodding your head towards the camera.  

His silence makes you assume that’s a yes.  “You know- we profiled that you’d be extremely intelligent,” you say.  “But if you think I’d rat out my Chief or anyone on my team, we must’ve gotten that part wrong.”  

Your response gets you backhanded- hard across the face.  Your head whips back, but you try to shake it off quickly. 

You taste copper in your mouth again as you raise your head up.  Your hair has fallen in your face, but you don’t make any effort to move it. 

Atwood is looking at you, expression calculating.  “If you want to get out of here alive,” he says, “you’re going to tell me where she is.  It's up to you how hard you want to make this on yourself.”  When you stay silent, he continues.  “You see, it’s not you I really want.  I don’t want to kill you.  Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with.  You’re collateral damage to me, it means nothing.”

His words make you freeze in place.  

Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with. 

The sentence seeps into your skin like poison. 

Luke. 

Your face is blank and your mind can’t process the entirety of what he’s said, before he proceeds. 

“You see, it’s Prentiss I want.  Tell me where she is and this will all be over.”

“You killed-” your voice is shaky as you try to comprehend the words Atwood has just spoken to you.  “Y-you killed him?”

His smirk brings bile up in your throat. 

He was lying, you say to yourself.  Luke was fine, he was lying.  “No,” you whisper, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “No-”

Atwood sighs, pretending to be sympathetic. “Like I said- I didn’t want to do it. But he got in my way. Just like you’re getting in my way right now.” 

His words are muffled in your own head as your mind races to make sense of it all. Luke- Luke was your purpose and your happiness and your reason.  Luke was everything.  

“Tell me where she is.” Atwood presses. 

If he was telling the truth, and Luke really was dead- then what did it matter if you died too? “Go fuck yourself,” you spit, trying not to show him the brokenness he’d just caused. 

Atwood sighs, “I was hoping we could do this the easy way.” 

He approaches you, rolling up his sleeve as he walks.  You noticed a brass ring on his finger.  

You wonder what the rest of the team was thinking and if they could even see you right now.  You knew that they’d be looking for you, no matter what.  They’d probably even encourage you to give up Emily’s information- even though none of them would.  But it probably didn’t make whatever was about to happen to you easier for them to watch. 

“This doesn’t end until you tell me where she is,” Atwood sneers.  It’s his final warning.  You look straight at the camera and try to broadcast a message to the team.  In case they were watching, you wanted them to know you could handle this.  You offer the slightest smile, one they’d probably only catch if they rewound the tape, you’re reassuring them that you’d be fine.  

…

When the video stream first comes through, it makes Penelope gasp.  She was sleep deprived after being transported to Seattle.  Her job was to comb through the Unsub’s computer, and to hopefully find a hint as to where he might have taken you. 

At first, she’s surprised, and disturbed by the distressed looking girl tied to the chair.  Penelope has seen her fair share of gruesome images and videos in her days with the Bureau, but she never could seem to get used to it. 

But when the girl lifts her head and reveals a face Penelope recognizes immediately, she’s horrified.  Your eyes are tired, and every breath looks ragged. 

“Emily!” she calls out, “Guys!”  

Just then, a man comes into the frame, his voice is muffled and quiet. Before Penelope can turn the volume up to hear what he’s said, he raises his hand and strikes you across the face.

“No!” Penelope cries, squeezing her eyes shut.  Only when she feels a warm hand fall on her shoulder does she dare to open them. 

It’s Emily, and in her trail is JJ and Rossi. 

“What’s going on?” Emily asks, concerned. 

“It’s Y/N-” Garcia has tears running down her face. 

“Oh my God,” JJ breathes, she covers her mouth with her hands. 

“She’s hurt,” Garcia whimpers. 

Emily inhales sharply. 

“Is this live? Can you trace it?” Rossi asks, leaning in. 

Garcia nods, the rapid clicks of her keyboard answering for her. 

“Where’s Luke?” JJ asks, turning her head. “He can’t see this-”

“See what?” Luke’s voice rings through the room, making everyone turn their heads.  He’s standing in the doorframe with an ice pack held firmly to his head.  After being attacked, he’d refused to go to the hospital.  Not until you were home safe, he had said.  No one tried to argue it.  

They stand speechless, unsure of what to say to Luke. 

“See what?” he repeats.  But that’s when he sees the screen. 

“Who is that?” he asks, voice cracking. He leans so that he can see past Garcia. The panic on his face told them that he already knew. 

“We’re going to find her,” Emily says calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Suddenly, there’s a man’s voice speaking from the video.  It’s Atwood. 

“All I need is a location,” he says calmly.  “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

Everyone in the room inhales sharply. Luke grits his teeth as he sees you pick up your head.  Your face looks scared. “I don’t know,” you say weakly. 

Atwood sighs.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that, Garcia cries out again as he sucker punches you in the jaw.  Just as you’re wincing from the first impact, you take another hit, a punch to the gut that leaves you heaving and breathless.  

Luke is wild, gritting his teeth.  “I’m gonna bash this guy’s head in myself,” he roars, turning away.  

Just then, the rest of the team filters in the room.  “What’s going on?” Reid asks.  He’s holding an evidence bag in his gloved hands. 

“The motherfucker’s recording it- he’s live streaming it,” Luke exclaims.  He’s gripping his hair frantically. 

“Anything, Garcia?” Rossi asks. 

Her typing has become more frantic as she desperately tries to secure a location.  

The assault against you continues, hit after hit, mostly centered on your left side.  It’s clear that you were doing your best to zone out.

Luke has started watching again, despite Matt trying to pull him away.  

You keep your mouth shut, even when your side aches so bad you think he’s broken one of your ribs.  When Atwood finally stops hitting you, your face is hot and bruised and bloody.

It makes Luke want to be sick. 

Just then, a pinging noise comes from Garcia’s computer and the room goes dead silent. 

After a moment, she turns to Emily questioningly. “I have an address,” she states. 

“What’s wrong?” Tara asks, picking up on the confusion in her tone. 

“What’re we waiting for?” Luke roars.  “Let’s go-”

“It just feels- wrong,” Garcia says, unable to put her finger on it. “Why would an Unsub as intelligent as him not block his streaming location?”

“Do you think it’s a trap?”

Garcia shakes her head.  “I don’t know-”

“That’s a risk we’re going to have to take,” Emily says.  She turns to the rest of the team.  “Let’s go.”

“Be safe,” Garcia whimpers. 

…

You barely feel alive anymore.  You had your eyes closed, and were resting your head against the back of the chair when you tried to imagine yourself back in your apartment with Luke.  You imagined being snuggled into him on the couch as you watched some cheesy, romantic movie. You had given up struggling- your restraints were too tight, it was no use. You tried to count how much time it had been since you’d been here. But the truth was, you had no idea how long you’d been out for. Hours? Days? 

You were wondering if the team was still looking for you when you hear a distant thump coming from upstairs.  

The thing was- you knew this wasn’t just about Emily’s location.  It wasn’t even about your team’s location.  It was about beating you- the power involved in outsmarting the FBI. 

You kept your eyes closed, taking deep breaths and trying as best as you could to get your body to stop shivering. You were bruised and bloody and dehydrated.

You hadn’t opened your eyes in a while now. And even though you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t want to open them because you didn’t want Atwood to know you were awake.  

You wished your mind would quiet down, but of course it wouldn't.  You had nothing to do here besides think.  You think about the last words you said to Luke, and you think of how meaningless and insignificant they were.  You try to remember when the last time you told him you loved him was.  You think about if you even wanted to get out of here alive if there was no Luke to go home to.  

In the midst of your thoughts, you gasp loudly when the only door leading out of the room blows off the hinges.  Dust fills the air and you flinch at the feeling of your neck suddenly being barred by a strong arm.  

Atwood. 

“Drop it!” Emily’s familiar voice fills the room.  

You sigh a breath of relief, despite knowing there was a gun pressed directly against your temple. 

“You’re not getting out of here,” Rossi’s voice says.  “So you might as well put the gun down now.” When the dust finally settles, you see him filing to the left corner of the room, his gun drawn.  Matt has already situated himself in the right corner. 

Atwood chuckles from behind you, his grip tightening. 

“What makes you think that?” he sneers. 

“Look around you, man-” Matt says.  “We’ve got you cornered.”

Atwood shoves the barrel of the gun harshly against your temple, making your head spin. 

“I like my odds.”

His eyes flicker to the clock on the wall- a motion that Rossi picks up on immediately. 

“What’re you waiting for Greg?” There’s a taunting tone to his voice. “For three o’clock?”

Atwood’s head shoots up. That hit a nerve. 

“We know what your plan was, Greg,” Emily says.  “We found the bomb.”

For a brief moment, you feel the gun being dropped from your temple.  Just as quickly, the sound of a single gunshot makes you flinch.  Atwood drops to the floor behind you, collapsing in a pool of his own blood. 

It was Matt who took the shot- taking advantage of the brief moment of hesitation that Atwood demonstrated.  You turn to him, trying to express your gratitude, but your head is spinning. 

“You’re okay,” Emily states.  It sounds like she’s trying more to convince herself of that fact. 

You nod without even realizing it. 

Matt’s the first one at your side. He’s frantically ripping away the ropes from your wrist.  There’s ligature marks already visible on your skin. 

Cops and EMTs start rushing through the room just as Emily speaks into her mic that it’s clear.  

You try to stand up, but the world around you spins immediately, tilting on its axis.  You almost black out in just about half a second. 

“Woah-” Emily says.  

Matt catches you before you fall to the floor.  

You struggle to look around the room, but everything is too bright and people are moving too fast.  It’s impossible to tell who’s here and who’s not. 

“L-Luke?” You hesitate because you almost don’t want to know. 

Matt gives you a soft smile, pausing when you’re finally free from your restraints. “He’s okay, he’s outside.”

You blink a few times, not sure if you heard him right. “He’s alive?” you lock eyes with Matt. 

Matt nods, his face sincere. 

“But he’s hurt- Atwood said-”

“Hey,” Matt whispers, tightening his grip around your waist.  “He’s okay, I’ll take you to him.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but it could double as a soft sob.  There are tears falling down your cheeks. 

With Matt bearing the majority of your weight, you let him lead you out of the building.  The glaring, afternoon sun makes it hard to see once you get outside, but you trust Matt’s guidance. 

After only a few steps, you hear your name being called. 

It’s so hard to focus, and you can feel your vision blurring in and out- but you’d know that voice anywhere. 

“Luke-” you whisper tentatively, because you still weren’t entirely sure that the voice wasn’t a hallucination. 

But then you hear it again.  This time it’s clearer and closer. 

You blink a few more times, the brightness fading as you strain to see. 

Slowly, Luke’s figure comes into focus.  He’s rushing towards you, and you realize that’s the first time since being taken that you feel like you could breathe again. 

“Oh my God-” Luke stammers.  Once he reaches you, he hesitates, like he’s too afraid to touch you.  You were sure nothing about you looked even remotely beautiful right now.  Between the bruises on your face and your tear-stained cheeks, you can only imagine the type of image Luke was taking in. “Are you okay?” he asks, he grasps your upper arms gently. 

You ignore his question and throw your arms around him, letting your cheek rest against his chest.  He wraps his arms around you, one hand falling on your upper back, while the other cradles the back of your head.  He kisses your hair firmly before pulling away.  He holds you at an arm’s length and scans your body. 

He takes in the sight of you.  There’s bruising along your jawline, red swirled with blues and purples from broken blood vessels.  It makes his stomach lurch to know you’d been hurt like this- that he couldn’t stop you from being hurt like this.  

There’s blood caked into the side of your hair- crusty and turning dark crimson.  Luke runs his thumb along the length of it.  

Suddenly, he sees you frown.  After blinking a few more times, his face has finally come into focus, which allows you to see the cut visible on his forehead. “Your head-” you observe. 

Luke starts protesting immediately.  “I’m fine, I’m okay.” His small cut was nothing compared to the bruises that inevitably littered your body. 

Your head spins again, making you sway in place.  Luke’s quick to wrap an arm around you and you fall into his side with ease, wincing when his hand falls on your bruised side. 

The EMTs are already on the street, ready to throw you into the back of an ambulance. 

You try to protest, assuring Luke and everyone else that you were fine. But Luke insists.  “You need to be checked out.  You’re not fine.”  

It feels like forever before the hospital clears you.  You have a concussion and a couple broken ribs, nothing that won’t heal on its own.  You’re grateful to not be more severely injured.  But you’re also just exhausted and sore and ready to go home. 

Luke barely let’s go of your hand, let alone leaves your side for the next twenty four hours. It’s comforting having him beside you, but you don’t like seeing him so worried. 

Once you’re discharged from the hospital, Luke and you head straight to the jet, where the rest of the team is waiting.  

Everyone wants to know how you’re feeling- how you’re holding up.  But talking about it made you think about it, and you really didn’t want to think about it. 

The plane ride home feels agonizingly long.  Every time the jet jostles or has turbulence, you wince. And every time you wince, everyone rushes to your side to make sure you’re alright. 

“Can I get you anything?” Tara asks.  She had just stood up to refill her own cup of tea.  

You shake your head, offering her your most convincing smile. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Blanket?” Reid offers. 

“Ice pack?”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Coffee?”

“Vodka?”

You decline. 

You sprawl out on the couch with your head resting in Luke’s lap and feign sleep just to avoid their fretting.  It makes you feel guilty to know you had them all so worried. 

His hands are in your hair, stroking the strands softly. 

“Luke, m’tired,” you whisper quietly enough so that only he hears. 

“I know,” Luke answers.  “We’re almost home.”

You lose track of the rest of the plane ride to your scattered brain, only picking up on small details: the murmur of Rossi and Emily talking beside you, the roughness of Luke’s jeans against your bruised cheek, the way your legs have to be slightly bent in order to fit on the couch.  Time passes in a disorienting lurch. 

It is an eternity before you land in Virginia.

And it’s an even longer eternity before you’re pulling into the driveway of you and Luke’s shared house. 

He tries to help you walk up to the door but you wave him away.  “I got it, I’m fine.”

You add a small smile when you see the hurt look on his face. 

“Bed or couch?” he asks while rushing to collect his keys out of his pocket. 

“Couch,” you murmur.  Your choice was based solely on the fact that the couch was significantly closer to you than the bed.  It also didn’t involved a flight of stairs. 

Luke drops your bags by the entryway before guiding you to the living room. His hand hovers wearily on your lower back- like he’s afraid you’ll collapse at any moment. 

You exhale choppily when you’re finally able to sit down on the couch.  It’s worn, familiar fabric makes you feel safer. Your eyes are heavy and your head wants to lull forward.  It’s hard to focus. 

Luke pulls the throw blanket down from the back of the couch and lays it gently on top of you.  It’s warmth brings comfort and ease.  

Luke kisses your forehead gently.  

“I’m gonna go grab some water,” he tells you. 

You just mumble incoherently in response. 

You quickly succumb to the exhaustion- letting your eyes fall shut.  But as soon as you let them close, his face appears.  It’s right in front of you, so close that if you reached out you could touch him.  Atwood is flashing his teeth with his signature evil grin, their tint of yellow and crookedness felt way too detailed to be a dream.  You wonder if you’re back in the basement- if you never really left in the first place.  Maybe being rescued was the dream. 

A soft clinking sound makes you shoot up from the couch, alert and panting while you frantically look around the room.  

Luke is setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of you, but your startled response makes him whip his head towards you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, face full of worry. 

As soon as you see him, you realize that you’re home and safe. You try to calm yourself down, embarrassed by your reaction.   

You take a deep breath. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking it off.  “I’m fine.”

You both knew it was a lie. 

But Luke doesn’t argue- he doesn’t push.  He just settled down beside you on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders carefully.  

You wait for a minute, steadying your breathing, before attempting to close your eyes again.  At first, it’s just the back of your eyelids and their darkness.  You stay focused on that and your breathing.  

As you finally start to relax, you start to feel a strange pressure against your wrists.  You jostle your arms, but for some reason they won’t move.  You’re stuck in place- restrained to the chair again. 

Suddenly, you feel Atwood’s fist against your jaw- his ring tearing open the flesh of your cheek.  His snickering is loud in your ears. 

You snap your eyes open again- you’re met by your dimly lit living room.  

Luke’s thumb is trailing up and down your arm comfortingly.  You were safe- these images you were seeing weren’t real. 

The third time you close your eyes- you see him almost instantly.  This time he’s close enough so that you can feel his hot breath on your neck.  

You shoot up quickly, panting heavily.  Your face collapses in your hands as you try to rub the images from your eyes.

It was real. It was very real, and you had the markings and bruises to prove it. 

This- laying on your own couch, finally getting to sleep- was what you’d been waiting for.  But now that your adrenaline had faded and some of the grogginess from your concussion had subsided, you couldn’t shut your eyes without hearing him, seeing him, feeling him- all over.

Luke sits up too, attentive to your uneasiness. 

“I c-can’t-” your voice is shaky.  “I can’t close my eyes,” you explain. 

Luke’s large hand rubs your back soothingly.

“I can’t close my eyes without seeing him.”

Luke nods, his hand travels from your back to your arm, he grips it securely before leaning in and pressing his lips to your temple.  You lean into his touch, letting him pull you closer to him.  He falls back against the couch, and you fall against his chest, practically on top of him at this point. 

“You're safe now,” he soothes. 

“I’m so tired,” you whisper, exhaustion making you start to tear up.  

“I know,” Luke murmurs.  His fingers trail up and down your arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. 

It doesn’t take long of Luke holding you like that for you to fall asleep.  At first, it’s nothingness- just a deep, peaceful slumber.  Until it isn’t. 

This time you don’t see Atwood.  Instead, you see someone curled up on the ground.  As you step closer, you realize it’s Luke.  You call out to him, but there’s no response. 

When he doesn’t answer, you reach your hand out, fingers grazing his bicep.  His skin feels ice cold.  You shake him lightly- but there’s no response.  Harder this time, you pull his weight towards you, hoping to get his attention.  Instead, Luke’s lifeless body flops onto his back.  His eyes are still open, lifelessly baring into your own. His mouth is parted slightly but there’s no air coming in or out of it.  That’s when you see the blood dripping down his face and pooled beneath his hair. 

You wake up screaming. 

“Hey-” Luke’s spinning and sitting up to position himself in front of you.  He cups your face between his hands. “Hey, hey- you’re okay. You’re safe, I got you.”

But you shake your head.  “It wasn’t me-”

Luke’s brown eyes narrow slightly, like he’s trying to understand. 

“It was you,” you say, voice fading into a sob.  “He t-told me that he k-” you swallow the lump in your throat, but it does little to make you stop crying.  “He told me that he killed you.  He told me you were dead.” 

Just saying it outloud makes you erupt into a puddle of tears.  You’re so distraught that you barely notice Luke pulling you into his lap on the couch. 

He’s murmuring soothing words into your ear, but continues letting you cry into his chest.  The numbness from earlier had completely worn off, and while you were scared and hurt- it felt good to feel something other than exhaustion.  

You’re not sure how long you stay like that- curled into Luke’s chest sobbing into his cotton t-shirt.  At some point, Luke had used his free hand to reach for the remote.  He put your favorite show on the television.  You’d seen every episode several times, but Luke knew it brought you comfort. 

Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy and you sniffled weakly. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you from sleeping,” you whispered, when you were confident you wouldn’t burst into tears again. 

Luke tightened his grip around you. “It’s okay,” he assures you.  “We’re both concussed, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to sleep while you’re concussed, anyway.”

You smile. 

Luke linked your hands together, looking down at you and giving you a soft smile. “I love you.” He whispered, lips pressing against the top of your head.

“I love you too.” you replied quietly.

Things were a mess.  And you were sad and scared and it would probably take a lot of sleepless nights and painful sobs for you to get through this.  Luke would be there to dry your tears though, just like he always was. And Luke would probably have to try harder to keep you feeling safe and eventually, you were going to have to talk about what happened.

But right now, wrapped in each other's arms on your shared couch, all you needed was each other.   

[c0smiccom3t]

Ladies and gentlemen, it is by craft-tastic pleasure that i am gonna present to you all................ my Sackboy AU..........

SACKBOY & SACKGIRL: Adventures in Craftworld!

Now, before we get started, allow me to tell all of you something... which is...

THE STORY

The story takes place after the events of LBP and SABA, Where after getting the title as the protector of Craftworld and a knitted knight, Sackboy must face the challenges of being a knitted knight, with the help of his sister, Sackgirl! But the story... also foretells, The return of Vex. (That's right he's back and with a lair of his own and a crazy lovesick assistant, but also with the help of a familiar villain from LBP3...) It's up to the siblings to make sure they help everybody in need and stop Vex from taking over Craftworld and make it into a land of uproar!

THE CHARACTERS

Now that we know the story, it's time to meet the characters! The heroes AND the villains!

Everybody in Craftworld have got goals, some are craft-tastic and harmless, while other goals (The bad ones)... well, they can be VERY malicious and villainous. and our heroes' goal is to overcome the obstacles of knitted knights. While the villains try to make craftworld a land of uproar AND/OR absorve it's creativity and keep it for themself. Now, let's go meet our heroes, shall we?

SACKBOY

Sackboy is the protector of Craftworld and a Knitted Knight. This little autistic fellow is always up for adventure. But sometimes he can really use some help. He does not speak, however, he can speak sign language. When someone is in danger, you can count on him and his sister Sackgirl to save the day!

SACKGIRL

Sackgirl is Sackboy's sister and Knitted Knight sidekick. She's pretty smart and challenging. Always up for a challenge to foil Vex's plans and to drink some smoothies. She, with Sackboy, always try to find a way out of trouble and to solve problems all around Craftworld. She also tries to keep everybody (especially her brother) safe from evil. Even though she's just a knitted knight beginner, she has the dreams to become one just like her brother.

Headcanon Voice: Polly from Powerbirds (Voiced by Tara Strong)

Scarlet

Sackboy and Sackgirl's mentor. The last remaining knitted knight who is also a maternal figure to our heroes. she sometimes gets excited of telling stories, but she's also a very wise, confident and brave woman who always teaches the siblings on being a knitted knight. She plans to go on adventures on her own, but also going on expeditions with Sackboy and Sackgirl.

Voiced by: Dawn French (who also voices her in the original SABA game)

Now that we met the heroes, i think it's time we meet their adversaries... the VILLAINS! Starting from....

VEX

Oh, dont tell me you don't recognize him! You know, god of nightmares, master of the uproar, bringer of chaos, LIFE OF THE PARTY! the two heroes' arch-nemesis. This near-mythical being born of chaos and fear once turned Craftworld into a land of uproar but then Sackboy stopped him and turned everything back to normal. But now, he's BACK and even more evil than ever. This selfish, greedy, mean, narcissistic, regal and dastardly royal git plans to transform craftworld into a world of uproar. with new various inventions and a crazy assistant (and a scientific henchman), he is always up to destroy sackboy and take over as craftworld's new lord. Of course, he can be silly and a bit clumsy sometimes but he still has hopes to defeat his enemy and rule over craftworld.

Voiced by: Richard E. Grant (who also voices him in the original SABA game)

STITCHER

Stitcher is Vex's assistant of chaos. Was once a sackling living in the village of Loom. But once Vex showed up, he joined his side after he was defeated by Sackboy and changed into this crazy, diabolical, lovesick bad guy who loves Chaos, Destruction, and most importantly... VEX! (yes, he's got a huge crush on him.) he always helps Vex to destroy sackboy and sackgirl and turn craftworld into a land of uproar. He's always a fan of what Vex does and he sincerely admires him very much. He can build machines and uses his hammer "Slappy" as a weapon to use his attacks (especially bomb related ones). He can be very sassy, energetic, crazy and most importantly, mischevious. he can be nice sometimes but he refuses to give up his role in villainy. He has a big sister but he prefers not to talk about her much often. But either way, yes, he's crazy about Vex (and Vex has a secret huge crush on him too...) keep scrolling.

Headcanon voice: Junkrat from Overwatch (Voiced by Chris Parson)

NEWTON

Newton is Vex's new Scientist Henchman who works aside Stitcher as his P.I.U (Partner In Uproar). He was forced by Vex to join by his side to destroy sackboy. Despite many attempts of refusing. He gave up and got Vexed as he joined the villain team. He can be foolish and not very smart but is highly intelligent. Despite this, he tends to accept unearned credit and even comes off as a bit narcissistic. Especially when he's a bit jealous of Vex. But he's also a huge papa's boy and a crybaby who tried to impress his father by releasing the titans back then. But, he failed and in the end got... you know, some ouchies in his bum-bum. He sometimes hates Stitcher's guts when he is making fun of him and calling him: "Nerd-ton" and "Papa's boy". Despite working for Vex, his goal is to absorb all of Craftworld's creativity and become the imagisphere greatest creator. But that doesn't happen because how bratty Vex can be when it comes to conquer Craftworld. sometimes he can throw a few fits. But not as much as Vex does. But yeah, get ready imagisphere. NEWTON'S BACK AND lamer MORE BRILLIANT THAN EVER!

Voiced by: Hugh Laurie (who voices him in the original LBP 3 game)

Now that we have met the heroes and the villains, i think it's time we go for...

THE AU'S INSPIRATIONS

Remember one time i said that the au was gonna be like a preschool/saturday morning kids cartoon? Well, it's true! It is! So, here's some inspirations behind it. You might have watched or heard of these, if you havent watched them, please do.

Due to it's charming character designs and stories, Powerbirds is the AU's biggest inspiration. If you havent watched this already, please do, it's really good!

4 words. Brilliant action & comedy. plus, the fourth wall breaks in the show are absolutely amazing. To be honest im planning to watch this again in the future, but most of all, the villain scenes in this show are amazing and funny as well! (im looking at you, Dr. Eggman.)

sadly i cant add anymore images so allow me to put in a list.

-Starbeam

-LazyTown

-Onegai My Melody

-H.R PufnStuf

-Pac-Man and the Ghostly Adventures

and most importantly...

-OK KO LETS BE HEROES!

So yes. this is it for this master post. So, get ready for adventures full of suspense, surprises, uproar but most importantly, DREAMS!

BONUS: Theme songs

Sleepyhead - Passion Pit (from the LBP 2 soundtrack)

Living Island - Pogo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HWG3h-IARU

[girl4music]

BUFFY REWATCH - S05E06 - Family

WILLOW: “My dance?

*She takes Tara's hand and leads her onto the floor as a slow song starts. They begin to dance. Willow has her hands on Tara's waist; Tara's hands on Willow's shoulders*

Good birthday?” 

TARA: “Best birthday.”

WILLOW: “I still can't believe you didn't tell me about your family and all that.” 

TARA: “I was just afraid if you saw the kind of people I came from, you wouldn't wanna be anywhere near me.”

WILLOW: “See... that's where you're a dummy. I think about what you grew up with and then I look at what you are... it makes me proud. It makes me love you more.”

TARA: “Every time I... even when I'm at my worst, you always make me feel special. 

*Willow smiles*

How do you do that?”

WILLOW: “Magic.” 

*They embrace, putting their heads on each other's shoulders and swaying to the music*

Melanie Doane (sings): “I can't take my eyes off you... I can't take my eyes off you...”

*This line of song repeats several more times as they continue slowly moving to the music and the camera moves around them. We see them slowly rising upward. Long shot of Willow and Tara surrounded by other couples who are also dancing, but Willow and Tara are floating several feet above the floor*

‘Family’ is one of my favourite episodes of the whole show. It’s definetly my favourite episode of Season 5... but then there’s not really much contest there. I love it not only because it’s the only Tara-centric episode that finally gives her some character development. But I also love it for the complex and serious themes it addresses. That of domestic abuse and found family VS blood-kin relationships. And you may well know that I am always more interested in the themes and messages conveyed in art/entertainment than the actual content of it. I’m definitely more about the meaning and the learning than the pleasure principle in watching a TV show - so therefore ‘Family’ is an important episode to me. It’s not just because I love the character it’s about,... although that does help. 

Tara is a character that is supposed to remind us of the shy and insecure character Willow used to be in the earlier seasons. However, there is much more reason for Tara to be the way she is in her demeanor than there ever was for Willow. At least in my opinion - Tara is without a doubt the most abused character in all of the show because she’s abused throughout her whole lifetime. This episode shows us that Tara is domestically abused by her blood-kinship and this reveal doesn’t exactly shock us because it’s really evident in the way Tara expresses herself. And she is abused in two different ways:

Emotionally - by her father and cousin that gaslight her to believe she’s an evil demon and use coercive control to exert power over her.

Physically - by her brother who threatens to beat her if she doesn’t do what her father tells her and how she reacts to him in the shaking and the stuttering. 

This girl has clearly been through a lot before ever meeting Willow and we really sympathise with her throughout all her interactions with her relatives (I refuse to use the word ‘family’ in regards to them because they are not) in the episode. The lack of love, support, care, kindness, generosity, understanding, trust, faith and compassion has seriously had a major affect on Tara - as it would with anyone that goes or has gone through domestic abuse or domestic violence as it’s now called and recognized. 

So for Tara... being accepted as and called ‘family’ by the Scooby Gang at the climax of the episode means a great deal. Not just for Willow and Tara’s romantic relationship but for the relationship Tara develops with all of the protagonist characters. They are now her found family and the only people she really knows and interacts with from now on. The dance scene at the end of the episode is my most favourite Willow/Tara moment. I fell in love with them when I first watched this scene. It’s the acceptance and the forgiveness Willow gives in that she understands why Tara tried to hide her prior life from her but explains that it wasn’t necessary because the fact she isn’t anything like her blood-kinship is what makes Willow love Tara more. Because she’s entirely right - anyone that can come from a cruel and violent environment like Tara did and still remain so empathetic and non-judgemental with other people deserve great admiration and respect. It’s not easy to not reflect and project that same behaviour on others. I know that firsthand. And I’ll forever feel extremely guilty for it even though it wasn’t something I could really have conscious control of at the time.

Going forward in the show, Tara’s demeanor completely changes. With the love and support of her found family and her girlfriend, her self-esteem greatly improves very quickly and she becomes a confident, secure, strong and all around beautiful person. So much so that she is able to say ‘No’ to Willow when she starts to spiral with the abusing of magic and the accumulation of power - knowing herself exactly where that can lead to as she’s tried to avoid “becoming evil” her whole life. There is the thought for me that were that the truth - were she actually part demon - I doubt she would have ever been all that evil at all.

[woolydemon]

TFA Shocks? Or tfa Sari =3

Tfa shockwave thoughts

First impression

Would it be bad to say I was actually kinda fooled by him </3

I knew shockwave existed but somehow managed to not spoil myself abt the longarm part so im watching TFA like "wow longarm is so nice to bumblebee I like him :]]!!!" then the end of the episode i :0,,

So. I may be stupid

Impression now

Hes one of my top 3 favorite characters babyyyyyyyy!!!! I adore his design (i have a huge bias towards any design that had funky obscured/lack of facial features + its rlly cool just how monstrous he is) and i think he's got the potential to be very interesting!!

I just think he's a emo nerd (with severe gifted student problems) and that's pretty neat :]

(except the gifted student problems. thats not so neat)

I also simply don't see any interpretation of him that doesnt fit the way I see him <3

Favorite moment

I think his moments in Autoboot Camp a lot, he's genuinely nice to bee!! That's not a facade he put up (he defends bee when wasp was like "way to go numbnodes", helps him out of the locker, etc)

Idk despite whatever the Allspark Almanac or fandom interprets Shocks, hes not a cold heartless deceiver and the small details from this episode rlly show that

Also think his bumbling attempts to try to preserve his identity are funny, what a dork

Idea for a story

i would love to see a redemption arc for my man!!!! I want him to be able to move past his need for approval (especially from ppl like megatron) and find a sense of self worth for himself!!

I think he were given the chance to leave the decepticons, he would be end up being a neutral since he has personally witnessed the fucked up shit the Autobot government is up to. And then he could maybe like dedicate himself in trying to overthrow this corrupt government, not for the decepticons this time. Or maybe he can just finally do whatever he wants to do and pursue a career in the sciences

(Also it would be cool if he changed his eye color to yellow to indicate his departure from the faction)

Unpopular opinion

I HATE SADISTIC ASSHOLE SHOCKWAVE :[!!! it's just... Not fun?? At all??? Especially when a lot of that sadism is directed towards blurr

And also I think that Shockwave is not an old creepy man, I'm pretty sure there is never any mention of him in of being in the war ever in any media?? So I think he.. was not around during that

Now I'm gonna really rock the boat here and say I hc him as younger than Bumblebee (but not by much!! Hes like the equivalent of a couple months or year younger than bee). I just think it's a little funny ok?? Shockwave's like "ur just simply not mature enough to understand bumblebee" and bee is "IM OLDER THAN U >:["

Favorite relationship

Shockbee.. shockbee good. I think their interactions in Autoboot Camp are rlly sweet and their dynamic is fun!! Emo nerd and lil trouble man holding hands... very cool

Favorite headcanon

I constantly think about how Shockwave's first instinct while panicking is just. Violence

So like... What if he was conditioned as a decepticon to just to resort to violence if things go really South??? I can only imagine that while he was becoming friends with Bee he was thinking in his head "THIS IS NOT OK. THIS IS NOT OK. IM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FRIENDS WITH HIM. I HAVE TO KILL HIM"

This ... Is not healthy btw. This is a shockwave problem moment. hope he gets well soon,,,,,,,,,

Sari Sumdac thoughts

First impression

I was a little worried she was going to be an annoying human character :[ unrelated to that I recognized tara strong and was like "TWILIGHT SPAR-"

Impression now

She's definitely one of the best human characters I've seen so far in the tf franchise!! I like her and I hope good things happen for her <3

Favorite moment

I think abt how she says "if u wanna mess with my city ur gonna go through ME first" like hell yeah u go girl!!!!!

also love how the autobots take care of her when her dad went missing, like bro... They're family..

The BEST family moment though was when she finally broke down from the stress and grief of losing her dad and not having any record of her identity and then bumblebee picks her up and is like "it's ok!! cry as much as u need to, we'll always be there for you" and GOD THATS SO SWEET IT GENUINELY MAKES ME TEAR UP

Idea for a story

Ok I know I kinda already did this with the seinfeld fic comic but I would love to see a much more genuine look into about how she realizes that she's a lesbian by being around the autobots, since they're from a homonormative society, and then they're like "HELL YEAH!! CONGRATS ON UR LESBIAN"

and maybe they all go together to a pride event or smth

Unpopular opinion

I don't think I have any unpopular opinions?? Wish ppl respected her skin tone more maybe

Favorite relationship

Still haven't finished tfp but I love seeing Sari x Miko... Very cute <3

Favorite headcanon

I once joked with my friends about how she has a inhuman tolerance to spicy foods as a result of being Indian and also part robot.

She carries those mini siracha bottles And also makes lesbian earrings out of those bottles!!

On the completely opposite side of the spectrum, Bee has little to none spice tolerance so he's bawling his eyes out while Sari is pouring more hot sauce on her food

[touyota]

Catfish

☁ Summary: Tomura is hopeless when it comes to relationships, and soon that’s all subject to change. With the power of Tinder, Touya and one oblivious chick on his side, who knows what can happen. 

A/N: omgggg, i’ve lurked on my priv for the past year and finally decided to stop being a narc and post something. i haven’t written in forever and it shows lmao, but uh yeah pls give me feedback if you’d like. (also idk if this has been. done before, but sorryyy if it has)

☁ Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader

☁ Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, manipulation, dumbfication (if you squint), slapping, yandere, catfishing 

"Fuck I'm horny." 

Tomura groaned into his pillow, conflicted with whether he should be agitated or turned on. Due to his third nap of the day being interrupted by the excessive lewd noises coming from the shared living room. Tomura's roommate, Touya, had no real understanding of boundaries and was often more bothersome than helpful. Still, without his portion of the rent, he'd be on the streets struggling to find an apartment within his meager budget.

"Keep fucking me, Touya-san!" The plea echoed through the thin walls of the shoddy apartment. At least someone was getting laid. The last time Tomura had gotten lucky was at an impromptu Halloween party thrown by Touya at the apartment. 

He went as Jason Vorhees using a dingy hockey mask he found in Touya's closet. The poor girl in question, who came dressed as an angel, was drunk out of her mind. She clung to Tomura's scrawny body incoherently, slurring about "How hot it would be to fuck a murderer." The fling hadn't lasted long before the young lady in question toppled over the side of his bed and hurled her entire cup of jungle juice onto the floor. Poor Tomura had to spend his night nursing her head over the toilet. Making a mental note to tell Touya that he couldn't invite any freshmen to their parties ever again.

Tomura ended up seeing her again in passing on campus, giving a small smile as she walked by. Only to be met with an eye roll as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. Fucking bitch... Other than that, Tomura had found himself too busy writing code, playing video games, and browsing Reddit to dedicate any time to dating. The polar opposite of his roomie Touya-san, a communications major whose schedule consisted of dating? If you considered fucking the same chick for a week before ghosting her dating, sleeping, and eating and drinking Tomura out of a house and home.

"You ready for my load? You're my little cum dump, right? Say you're my cum du-"

Speaking of fucking, Tomura's hard-on was starting to hurt, and what better way to relieve himself than to beat off to the action in the adjacent room. 

He started to palm himself over his sweats, erection already beginning to poke through. Figuring that he's teased himself enough, he lowered his boxers, allowing his cock to slap against his stomach, throbbing and angry. He slowly stroked himself, gathering the pre-cum spouting from the tip, and used it to lube the rest of his cock.

"Pleaseee fuck! I'm your little cum dump! I swear Touya!" 

Tomura started to stroke his cock faster, leaving a squelching noise with each stroke. He was barely managing to suppress his moans. Knowing how Touya wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he got caught fucking his hand to the sounds of their subtle lovemaking. 

"Fuckfuckfuck... I'm cumming!" Touya grunted, giving out after his final stroke.

Tomura followed suit, flicking his wrist with each stroke. As his orgasm finally took hold of him, biting into his shirt to stifle his moan as he came all over his fist. 

"Are you fucking serious, Touya?"

"What?" 

"I didn't get to cum?"

"Um… I'm sure you can take care of that when you get home."

"You're such a piece of sh-"

Tomura tuned out the rest of his roommate's performance. Really hoping he'd wrap it up cause he really needed to take a piss and couldn't make it to the bathroom without passing through the living room. 

After hearing a respectable amount of silence, he figured it was safe to leave the room. Of course, he was wrong; he was met with a staredown between Touya and a petite blonde woman.

"I'm sure your roommate Tenko wouldn't leave a lady hanging like that."

"It's Tomura," he muttered.

"Same fucking thing, my point still stands," The mystery woman huffed. There was a pregnant pause before Touya doubled over in laughter, clutching his chest.

"You think this cuck knows how to take care of a lady? Yeah, it's time to go, Tara."

"It's Toga, you shit stai-"her statement was abruptly interrupted, the door slamming in her face. Touya's back slid down against the door as he sat facing Tomura. 

"Chicks? Am I right?" Touya sighed, peering over at Tomura, who had just left the bathroom. "Speaking of chicks, when's the last time you had sex, Shiggy?"

"It's been... a while." Tomura shrugged, not wanting to indulge his roommate with the details of his sex life.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Let's make you a Tinder." Touya proudly announced, excited at the prospect of playing matchmaker for his roommate. Tomura reluctantly gave in, knowing once Touya was set on something, it was bound to happen one way or another. 

Two blunts later, Tomura and Touya were strewn over the couch, mulling over his profile's final details. It consisted of three pics, one from the Halloween party, another from their most recent function. The last pic is a selfie of him in a black hoodie with sunglasses on. The icing on top is the bio that unironically stated, "Freak in the sheets, gamer in the streets."

"You're gonna be a real pussy magnet shiggy. Just wait, you'll have to fight the chicks off with a stick after they see this." Touya chuckled as he took another puff of the blunt.

"Go to hell and stop hogging; you didn't put shit in on this anyways," Tomura muttered as he snatched the blunt away to take a pull. Maybe he would find some success, he entertained the concept of having a consistent fuck buddy, but sometimes he was lonely and just wanted someone to lay up with. He wanted to be optimistic about something for once, taking his final pull and ashing the blunt out. The smoky haze and intoxicating scent lulling him to sleep. 

Fuck optimism, Tomura thought. It had been three days with zero matches or messages, and he was starting to think there had to be a glitch in the system. The only time he had seen a match is when he accidentally swiped on Midnight's profile, a famous Only fans content creator who specialized in BDSM. The same Midnight that he happened to be a top donor for and occasionally bought panties from, but that's beside the point. The profile was poorly made with blurry, uncropped pics taken straight from her social media profiles. The lack of detail and legitimacy was apparent. Tomura felt terrible for the poor soul who probably fell for it, but it made him think… 

Why not see how different the response would be if he ran a profile under someone else's guise.  Someone more attractive, someone more affluent, and someone more famous. This was simply a social experiment; no harm would come from it of course. He would simply ghost anyone who wanted to meet, keeping all interactions virtual. Now who could he possibly pretend to be. without getting caught. Tomura's eyes finally settled on an Axe ad playing on tv featuring male model Keigo Takami. Mr. tall, blonde, and handsome would definitely attract the feminine masses.  

Ding ding ding, it was like a bell went off in his head; he had found his new look. He started to scour the internet for any pictures of Hawks that weren't already posted to his socials and be sure to crop any evidence out. A few hours later, Tomura gazed over his final product. He thought it seemed too good to be true; he was sure that anyone with a working brain would know the profile was clearly a catfish. It was too clean, too pristine, and too perfect, but Tomura was tired of the profile's nit-picking details and saved his last changes. It was starting to get dark, and he had to begin his Comp Sci homework soon so he'd have time to play zombies on Call of Duty later. 

Tomura woke to a multitude of buzzes notifying him of the several hundred matches he'd accumulated overnight on his Hawks profile. Apparently, no one had a working brain within the 15-mile radius. The messages were filled with tons of chicks he had seen on campus or in class. He even recognized the one from the Halloween party. He spent his morning smoke break, siphoning through the various contenders.

Too tall.

Too blonde.

Too ugly. 

Until...

He finally stopped scrolling when he reached your profile; he had seen you before in his Major classes. You were a somewhat modest girl, always working to be an overachiever and teacher's pet. You hadn't spoken to him before, only forcing a smile when Tomura was caught staring at you in class. You were talented, beautiful, quiet, and you hadn't encountered Touya yet. You were everything he had wanted, and more. He started to type a message awaiting your response.

Keigo: "What's keeping you up this late, love ;)" 

Tomura thought to keep it casual enough to fit his suave persona.

Y/N: "lol, just sum late night studying keeping me up."

Y/N: "won't lie im very nervous to texting you rn, i'm a big fan 

Keigo: "it's gud knowing i have fans as cute as you ;p"

The conversation seemed to flow from there between you two, texting for almost two weeks strong. Tomura had learned so much about you in a short time, your favorite foods, your favorite color, favorite music, and your dislikes as well. Touya often came by his room to check in on Operation: Get Shiggy Some Pussy, only to be met with a "Fuck off," and yet another door slammed in his face. 

You gushed over how lucky you were to be texting the one and only Keigo Takami. Of course, you were skeptical at first, but what kind of fucked up person would take the time to pretend to be another person? The conversation between you two was great and always kept you on your toes. Still, sometimes days would pass before you received a response; you chalked it to the fact that he was always busy as a celebrity and didn't always have time to respond to you. 

You were currently lying in bed and unable to fall asleep; you peered at your phone to see that it was 2:05 am. You let out a sigh, preparing to stare at your ceiling until you finally fell asleep, only to be interrupted by a chime from your phone. It was a message from Keigo. 

Keigo: you up? ;(

You instantly typed a response, scared that you had done something wrong.

Y/N: yup, what's wrong…?

Keigo: i'm so fucking hard rn baby ;(((

Oh shit, you hadn't prepared yourself for that response; maybe he injured himself at work or-

Keigo: you still there babe? send a pic ;p

You definitely hadn't prepared for that, but who were you to deny him. Keigo could've asked anyone else in the world, but he asked you. Not wanting to leave him waiting, you quickly shucked your shirt off and used your arm to push up your breasts, giving an illusion of the perfect push up bra. You promptly took several pics, taking the time to edit and select the ideal filters to complement your skin tone.

Y/N: 1 image sent

A bubble indicating him typing popped up instantly 

Keigo: 3 images sent

Keigo: fuckkkk babe, ur such a tease

You opened the pics, feeling your panties dampen slightly. It was a cock, well Keigo's cock, fat and engorged, leaking pre-cum against his toned belly. He was mostly well-groomed, but a prominent white tuft of hair appears in the picture, making you wonder if Keigo was actually a natural blonde.

Keigo: 1 video sent

 let me see that pretty pussy baby, 

It was a video of Keigo languidly stroking his cock, how romantic. It was only right for a gorgeous man like Keigo to have a pretty cock to match. What he lacked in girth was definitely made up for in length, complemented with a slight curve that could definitely reach that itch that none of your toys could scratch.  By now, you had ditched your panties and started to slowly start to fuck yourself open with one finger at a time. You started recording and angled the phone against your pillow, trying to capture you desperately fucking yourself on your fingers, letting out a small whimper with each thrust.

Y/N: 1 video sent 

You began to fuck yourself vigorously, dragging the accumulated slick over your clit with slow, circular strokes. You felt your orgasm on the brink, growing more restless and desperate, humping reverently at your fingers, whimpering desperately; you were so close...There was a sudden surge of fluid from your core, incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth as you kept carefully fucked yourself through your climax. The post-orgasm bliss lulling you to sleep, your eyes had finally fluttered shut, only to be awakened by another chime. 

Keigo: 1 image sent 

look @ all that cum baby, its all for you ;)

Y/N: when can we meet? my fingers can only work for so long :p

Read: 2:53 am

Aw man, maybe he fell asleep. You were definitely fighting sleep at this point as well, finally closing your eyes, satisfied for the night. 

Tomura struggled to catch his breath, reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe the sticky cum off of his stomach. That was the third time this month you'd ask about a meeting, and it was frankly starting to piss him off. He'd have to come up with something fast if he wanted to keep you around. Even though he didn't have much of a moral compass left in his body, the feeling of guilt was hard to ignore. You didn't deserve to be roped into his fucked up social experiment… 

A yawn interrupted Tomura's guilty thoughts. He could continue to feel guilty when he wakes up tomorrow.

 The following week your prayers had been answered, Keigo finally agreed to meet! It had been such a bittersweet feeling. What if he thought you looked nothing like your profile pictures? Would he reject you and run the other way, screaming? You tried to push your doubtful feelings down by distracting yourself with running errands. Finding the perfect outfit to wear, getting every inch of your body waxed, and picking up a lacy red lingerie set. 

Upon getting back to your apartment, you found a red bouquet of roses on the doormat. They were clearly store-bought and not of excellent quality… but it's the thought that counts! 

Lots of celebrities were frugal, and of course, Keigo was no different. After further inspection, a small white card with an address and time. You searched the address finding a mid-grade hotel on the outskirts of the city. Keigo was definitely a (cheap) frugal man dedicated to his discretion. Soon realizing that the time on the card was approaching, you quickly ran to shower and primp yourself for the evening. Not even thinking to question how he found your address in the first place...

You had finally arrived at the sketchy hotel, noting that there were little to no cars in the parking lot and noting that none of them looked like they belonged to Keigo. You wandered through the lobby until you finally reached the elevator, tapping the button for the 5th floor. You tried to shake off your pre-meeting jitters, you already knew everything would be fine, but you couldn't shake the feeling of something wrong...

Those intrusive thoughts were soon interrupted by the chime that indicated you had reached your floor. You took a deep breath as you stepped off the elevator, pacing yourself as you walked to your destination. 

Room 555 

How fitting, you thought. Your knuckles rasped against the door several times.

"Come in." A voice sounded through the door.

You peeked your head around the door before taking a step in the room, not being able to locate the owner of the voice. You gasped after taking the appearance of the room. The room had rose petals haphazardly strewn across the floor. Candles flickered on the dresser, a bubble bath was run in the bathroom, and to top it off, a too cheap bottle of champagne on ice. 

There was clearly an effort made, which made your heart swoon, hoping to put a real face to the man you've been speaking to for the past few months, you said out into the empty room.

"Keigo, I like what you've done with the place. You can come out now," you giggled.

"I'm glad you got the flowers," a raspy voice responded.

.......Huh?

Your joy instantly crushed, having heard Keigo's voice multiple times in the interviews you've seen, it sounded nothing like that. Unless he'd suddenly started chain-smoking within the past few months. A loud alarm started going off in your head. It was definitely time to go.

You twirled on your heels and reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped by a hand gripping your upper arm.

"Leaving so soon? The bathwater is still warm…" The mystery voice informed.

"Oh… I think I have the wrong room, so sorry about that." You squeaked, attempting to reach the door again only to be dragged into a bony chest. 

Your chin was tilted, forcing you to meet eyes with "Keigo." Who was actually a porcelain-skinned tower of a man with shaggy white hair that had an oddly familiar look to him? 

"Let me go! You're not Keigo!" You screamed, hoping to alert any other guests on the floor.

"Fucking took you long enough. I thought you were smarter than those other bitches on campus. Tomura balked, struggling to keep you still in his grasp.

Campus. That's where you recognized the face and voice of your captor, you were both in the same Comp Sci class, and you'd often caught him staring as you worked, chalking it up to you having something on your face or in your teeth. The realization caused tears to spurt from your eyes.

"Poor baby, didn't mommy and daddy teach you to not speak to strangers on the internet?"

"I-I thought y-you were K-Keigo," you gasped, struggling to control your sobs. 

"Well, I'm not. Get over it." Tomura slurred, placing sloppy kisses over your collar bone, slowly backing you towards the bed. 

You couldn't bring yourself to move or fight anymore, body stiff with fear. Your sobs increase in volume after feeling your legs make contact with the edge of the bed. You didn't know this man from a can of paint, and here he is about to assault you. 

"Stop crying before I leak those sexy little videos you shared with "Keigo." Imagine if everyone in the class knew how much of an easy slut you are?" Tomura hissed, shoving you unto the stiff mattress, springs squeaking as you bounced. 

You cradled your mouth, struggling to stifle your sobs. Why hadn't you recognized the signs sooner? You spent so much time looking at the situation through rose-colored lenses that you had utterly neglected your safety. But it wasn't the time to feign sympathy for yourself. You needed to take action, and soon—the shaggy haired stranger dragging your motionless body towards the end of the headboard. 

"Wait!" You gasped, hoping that you could possibly reason with your captor.

"What's your name? 

This was your final chance to escape. You suddenly kicked forward, aiming for his face, failing miserably as it was blocked. Both legs were then shoved into a mating press, granting Tomura the space to press himself even closer to you.

A groan left Tomura's mouth, frotting against your clothed mound, smothering your neck with sloppy saliva drenched kisses. You cowered at the feeling, curling away from his advances. The dry humping continued until a final groan of desperation was released. He was too grown for this shit and didn't feel like going home with stained boxers when your sweet heat was right in front of him.

The red bodycon dress you decided on was shredded down the middle, leaving you in your lingerie set. You added that to the list of things you were already regretting, moving to cover yourself the best you could. Your efforts to preserve the crumb of modesty you had left were futile, both hands knocked out of the way.

"You don't have to hide princess, I think Christmas came early.” “You're wrapped so pretty, baby." He chuckled, moving to fondle your breasts. Taking the time to pinch and pull at both nipples, drawing small hesitant gasps. 

"I'll play with these more later. You don't know how long I've waited to play with that cute little pussy in person." You felt your panties tugged to the side, embarrassed with the amount of arousal accumulated below. The feeling was soon replaced with horror after feeling the tip of his cock dragged between your slit.

Tomura used the residual slick to grease his cock, bypassing the need to stretch you out. He pressed forward, forcing himself inside, pausing to catch his breath. Damn... it's been a long time. 

You yelped in pain, closing your eyes in hopes of blocking out the situation at hand. You felt him start to pick up his pace, causing small tinges of pain to course through your body. 

"Mmmm, open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you." He gasped, realizing you hadn't complied yet, he landed a firm slap on your cheek. "Not only are you dumb, but you're also deaf too… open. SMACK your. SMACK fucking. SMACK eyes." 

Your eyes shot open, brimming with tears, finding yourself face to face with your captor. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, dainty white lashes framing the lids, traces of dry patches on his face. He wasn't ugly. You'd honestly give him a chance if he asked you out like a decent human being.

His pace had gained traction, hips crashing against yours. You found yourself slowly succumbing to the pleasure, discreetly fucking yourself against him. You wanted to protest and resist against him, but with your inhibitions lowered, you found it hard to comply. Each thrust pulling you further into the abyss that was your impending orgasm. Your lust-filled thoughts being interrupted by the stranger's incoherent mumbling.

"Tomura."

"Huh?" you whimpered, not fully understanding what he said. 

"My name is Tomura."

"Okay and mine i-"

"Shut up and say my name." Tomura's thrusts were sporadic, signaling his impending climax. "Beg me to cum…... please." 

You barely registered the final demand, not recognizing the soft tone of his voice.

"T-tomura, p-please let me cum!" you begged, right on edge needing something, anything to push you over.

Two nimble, callused fingers drew delicate circles over your clit, forcing you to writhe and sob as your orgasm coursed through your body. The feeling that followed was one of warmth as Tomura came, slowing his thrusts until he collapsed, encasing you in his arms.

Your eyes fluttered shut with your post-orgasm haze lulling you to sleep until a wet, sticky substance trickled along your inner thigh... 

What the fuck....

You nearly launched yourself from the bed, fighting to separate yourself from your captor's arms.  

"What is wrong with you?"

"You didn't use a condom," you wailed, tears perched at the corner of your eyes. You didn't have the time for a child, you were doing great in classes, your parents would reject you, you'd be stuck playing house with some stranger and-

"Stop muttering. You're fucking up my nap. I'll buy a Plan B when I wake up." Tomura mumbled into the pillow, dragging you back into his chest.

You continued to fight his grasp, pausing after feeling a firm pinch to your side. Fighting was futile at this point, and you couldn't fully assess the situation until you had some decent sleep. 

Closing your eyes for a few seconds wouldn't hurt…right?

[whump-town]

Hospital

A hurt Emily fic for idk anyone. I just wrote it forever ago and just got around to finishing the ending... Hotchniss and whump soo I’m also like obsessed rn with retired Hotch and Emily still working but also like old Hotchniss is really soft 

“Hotch!” His large dark figure jogs down the hall. Even aged, cheeks covered with a soft greying beard, and hair a little longer than what used to be typical, it takes Garcia only a glance to know that it’s him. A single glance to recognize the distinct way that he exists in space. She rises to her feet to meet him as he comes to a breathless halt. “What’re you doing here?”

He’s shaking, eyes scanning over the little crowd of them. “Where--” he recognizes them even if he doesn’t know them. Luke Alvez, Emily’s always going on about him. Hotch had hired the young man and Emily never stops reminding him of that. He’s surmised the younger man is to her what she used to be to him-- a pain in the ass. Matt Simmons, tall, charming, and looks exactly the same as the first time Hotch met him years ago. Tara, whom he knows, and respects for her ability to work so flawlessly with Emily. Then JJ and Reid.

“Where is she,” he asks. A few years ago, he would never be putting on the show that he is right now. He certainly wouldn’t be standing here. He’d be off hidden somewhere, reeling with emotions and probably being an ass to anyone unfortunate enough to run into him. But not today. “Where’s Emily?”

They’ve been doing this little dance for ages. For longer than it even matters to count. He hadn’t been brave enough to say anything, never has been. So, even after thousands of letters back and forth from London, Emily coming home to help the team, and stopping Scratch… She’d found him, though.

Weekends started revolving around her schedule. She and Jack spending time together, to make up for how she left things after Doyle. Then… they didn’t even need Jack. They started texting again. She’d tell him about Luke and Reid getting into trouble. How Matt has the cutest kids. That Garcia is dragging them out for a girls’ night.

And, standing in the middle of this hospital corridor, he finally understands what it’s like to be on the other half. What it must have been like for Haley and Will and Luke’s wife. To not know if the other half of you is…

Dave appears from the hall, calm. He smiles when he spots Hotch. “Aaron,” he calls, with a small wave. For old friends, he hasn’t seen much of the man since his retirement. More than the team, Jack’s a very big fan of weekends spent up at Dave’s house but still. It’s been a while.

“Dave,” Hotch breaths. He steps up to the older man, twisting and anxiously pulling at his hands. Trying to work the stress out of his body. “Is she okay?”

Rossi looks the younger man over. In this state, he’s not going to be nearly as soothing as Dave needs him to be. Emily’s hurting and she’s asking for Hotch but they’re going to be like gas on a house fire if he lets them near one another right now. “Sit down,” he instructs, motioning to the chairs.

Hotch’s bottom lips trembles, his voice thick as he barely manages to form Rossi’s name. “Dave, please,” he rasp.

Rossi doesn’t budge.

Knees shaking under him, Hotch sinks heavily into the chair. He leans over himself, elbows on his knees. “I don’t have time for this,” he complains, working his fingers through his hair.  He rubs at his face, sniffling as he roughly wipes the tears that fall against his will.

He glances up when a hand falls on his back, Tara offers him a smile. “She’s strong,” Tara informs him with a strength that he wished he had. “I was with her the entire time,” Tara inhales calmly, drawing her shoulders up with the breath. If she wants to reflect the calm that Hotch needs, she needs to look the part. With a nod of her head she adds, “she was aware the entire time. Trying to give orders and keep us calm.”

He nods his head, bottom lip still trembling and eyes rimmed with the tears that he refuses to let fall. “Sounds like Emily,” he manages, eyes shifting to the team as they nod agreeance. Her team. He’d left the BAU to her and she’d nestled and nurtured like she does everything. Looking at them, gathered around him and just as worried as he is, he can’t imagine why she’d ever been so afraid to take over.

“Alright,” Rossi sighs. He sits down beside Aaron, preparing himself. He’d seen her. Not her power of attorney but still trusted enough that his name was the second one she thought of when she woke up. She needed someone and Aaron hadn’t been here. “She’s sedated--” he holds up his hand when Hotch tries to cut in. “I know, I’ve already requested they pull her off the medication. I know she doesn’t like it.”

Pushing his hand through his own hair he sighs, “she’s… tired but she wants to see you.” Hotch nods. “You have to be calm.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Dave shakes his head but caves, “alright.”

She’d taken a hit straight to her vest. Laid out on her back struggling to breathe, she’d realized that she’s way too fucking old for this. She remembered all the times Aaron had tried to convince her back to bed in the early mornings. Practically begging her to just take the day off. To stay here with him.

When she wakes up in the hospital, stiff and in pain, all she wants is him. Someone to hold her hand and to pull her hair off of her back. It’s itchy and she hates it.

Seeing Dave, she could have cried. So certain he was going to deny her and tell her Aaron wasn’t coming.

“Aaron,” she whispers, a sob bubbling its way up out of her throat. She’s too weak and hurting to reach out for him but he doesn’t break stride when he sees her. “There you are,” she can’t remember what happened between taking that shot to the vest and now. There’s a faint, faint, memory of the feeling of her blood pooling around her. Fear. She’d been afraid. Now, face pressed into his shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around her, she’s not afraid at all.

Pressing her face into his clothes she smiles, “you smell good.”

He laughs but it’s chocked and sounds more like a scoff. “Thanks,” he croaks. Sniffling, he pulls back from her hug. There’s a fleck of blood on her neck, leftover from the wound on her side. He’s already mapping out ways to keep her comfortable when he gets to take her home. The couch isn’t any good but their bedroom is on the second floor of their house. He’s a little too old to be carrying her but he already knows he’ll pull his back out before he makes her walk up the stairs.

“I like the beard,” she whispers dreamily, fingers scratching at his facial hair.

He places his hand over hers, cupping her hand there.

“Aaron--”

He covers his mouth, looking away as his breathing hitches his tears to fall.

“Honey,” she whispers, tugging his hand when he keeps himself turned from her. Trying to hide his tears. “You don’t have to hide,” she reminds him softly. He still keeps his head turned. “Well, if you’re going to hide your tears will you at least make yourself useful and come over here and cuddle me, huh? I’m tried and I’m in pain and I don’t sleep alone.”

He shakes his head, pulling his hand from hers, wiping at his face.

“I wasn’t playing,” she clarifies. “I need another blanket and your big dumb butt up here with me.”

Rubbing his tears away, Hotch forces himself to breathe. To calm down. Clearing his throat, he goes to the closet on the other side of the room. Retrieving her second blanket. “There’s not enough room on there for me,” he informs her, spreading the blanket and draping it over her delicately.

She frowns, sadly looking down at the room between her sides and the railing. She’s pouting. Very childishly so but he can’t stand to see her sad and she knows it. “Please,” she whispers. “Won’t you just try?”

He sighs and she knows she’s won.

He’s terrified he’ll hurt her but she’s completely okay with that.

“How,” he’s half on the edge, scratching at the side of his face as he tries to figure out how to lay on his side or--

“I don’t care,” she replies, head leaning on the pillow as she watches him. She’s always thought his thinking was rather hot. So analytic and logical. Funny thing is, both of those traits also annoy the hell out of her.

With a nod of his head, she can see he’s come up with his plan. He’s got his “business” face on, or, as she calls it, his “Agent Hotchner” face. It’s very distinct and cute.

“Oh careful with the hands mister,” she giggles, smiling when he places a hand on her stomach, carefully maneuvering himself around her. His thumb grazes her breast and she’s only in this hospital gown. He rolls his eyes but she knows he loves her little jokes.

When he stops moving, he’s successfully managed to get mostly behind her, allowing her to lean back against his chest. A favorite cuddling position of hers. He’s very content with himself. She’s happily moving herself to nestle as closely as she can.

“You’re very warm,” she informs him, wincing when she pulls on her sore side. He rubs her back and she can feel herself relaxing again. Everything is warm. Her head is on his chest, she can hear his heart beating, and his breath running down under her gown across her skin. She’s not going to be able to stay awake like this.

“Emily?”

His voice has thickened again and she can hear the tears in his voice. Without opening her eyes she finds his leg and pats it, trying her best sleepy and hurting to comfort him as best she can. “What is it, my love?” She doesn’t make a habit of using little monikers like that in their day-to-day life but occasionally it’s the best way to remind him she loves him.

“I love you,” he whispers, “you know that, right.”

She smirks, he’s always so anxious. Terrified one day she’ll wake up and doubt every minute of the last decade. “I know,” she assures him. “Most of the time,” she amends with a smile, “I doubt it a little when you wake me up snoring or leave the toilet seat up.”

He smiles and shakes his head.

Good, she thinks and sighs contently. They’re going to be okay.

[comradesummers]

Top 5 buffy characters and top 5 angel characters?

Hi, thanks for asking!

Pretty sure that I’ve answered some version of this before but I’m not going to pretend I’m even remotely consistent about these things, so here we are.

Buffy Characters:

5. Rupert Giles

Giles is one of those characters that frustrates me a lot. He’s part of an inherently exploitative system and I’m not sure that, until the final episode, he ever truly extricates himself from that system. The best parts of Giles are his rebellion against the council and the worst parts of him are his ideological ties to them. But that’s what makes him so interesting. Because the man who defies what he’s been taught and loves this group of misfit children like a father is always at odds with the ruthless utilitarian he thinks he has to be. It’s a fascinating series long conflict, and though it’s not always handled as well as I would like, it does always make for a wonderfully flawed but thoroughly lovable character.

4. Willow Rosenberg

Willow is a character I struggle with because she’s the one that reminds me the most of myself. Some of these similarities are rather superficial: we’re both Jewish lesbians that pride ouselves on our academic merits. But on a deeper level, I find Willow’s insecurity and her desperate need to appear strong and important and worthy at all costs to be so painfully relatable that I have a hard time engaging with her at all. I don’t need to explain how incredible her storyline is over seven seasons, how much she grows and changes and evolves, because you know all that already. There’s no denying she’s an incredible character. And the fact that she resonates so deeply with me to the point that she makes me uncomfortable is maybe the best demonstration of what a good character she is.

3. Faith Lehane

Faith was initially introduced as the dark mirror to Buffy (which is why I believe her to be fundamentally tied to BtVS in a way that she isn’t to AtS). But her great accomplishment throughout Buffy and Angel was her evolution into her own character, separate from Buffy. And that’s also Faith’s character arc. At first, she is only able to compare herself with Buffy. She’s angry and jealous of Buffy because she believes that Buffy has everything that she never had and rightfully deserves. And, in many ways, she’s right to be angry. Yet her choice to direct her anger and resentment towards Buffy, as opposed to the real culprits (the council for one, along with all of the adults in her life) is what leads her to destroy herself. It’s only after she’s able to recognize her own self-worth outside of Buffy that she can truly do good and be good and be with Buffy. It’s a remarkable journey to behold and I love her so much.

2. Tara Maclay

I liked Tara well enough before season 6, but season 6 was when I fell completely in love with her. She becomes the show’s anchor that season as the only responsible adult who’s making good decisions, even when those decisions are extremely painful for her, like breaking up with Willow. And in a season dedicated to every other character fucking up, she’s truly a breath of fresh air. But more than just her function as a contrast to the other characters, season 6 really emphasized for me how beautifully and subtly she had developed throughout the show. Her ability to stand up to Willow is such a stark contrast to the Tara who was unable to stand up to her father (not that I’m blaming her for not being able to confront her abuser, I’m just pointing out how the contrast between these scenes demonstrates amazing growth on Tara’s part). Tara initially has no sense of self-worth, but as she develops, she comes to understand her own value and refuses to allow anyone to diminish it. It’s a beautiful, lovely story, and I will forever be bitter that she didn’t get the happy ending she so richly deserved.

1. Buffy Summers

Buffy Summers is my favorite fictional character of all time, as is evident by pretty much every single post on this blog.

Angel Characters:

5. Winfred Burkle

I have some issues with Fred. This is mainly because Joss Whedon’s obsession with this particular type of nerdy and adorable female characters makes me uncomfortable. But Amy Acker is a great actress and I can’t help but find her charming regardless. I think the episode that really sold me on Fred was Fredless. Like, the idea that she can’t face her parents because she doesn’t want to admit to them or to herself what she’s gone through is really heartbreaking. It’s the first time I was able to see Fred as more of a character than a caricature and I realized that I really liked that character. Also, fuck the writers for killing off their only remaining female character just so that Wesley could manpain about it.

4. Lilah Morgan

Lilah is by far the best villain on the show. She was, with very few exceptions, one of the only bad guys who was actually fun to watch. I particularly love that the writers never felt the need to redeem her in order to make her sympathetic. And she is sympathetic. You feel for her a whole lot, probably because Stephanie Romanov is such a pro. But she’s still a terrible, evil person through and through and I love that for her. Why the writers thought it would be a good idea to kill her off is truly beyond me.

3. Lorne

Another character who deserved better (sensing a theme here). Lorne is such an interesting, layered character with a wonderfully bizarre backstory and an interesting way of seeing the world. Yet, despite how wonderful he is, he was always pushed to the background to further another character’s story. And that’s not even mentioning whatever the writers thought they were doing with him in season 5. Also, why couldn’t he have been openly queer? Anyway, RIP Andy Hallet, who was an absurdly talented man who managed to create this incredible character in spite of all the writers’ bullshit. 

2. Charles Gunn

Gunn was never just the muscle. The man ran a neighborhood watch/vampire hunting ring while he was still in his early 20′s (I assume? Do we actually know how old he is?). He’s a strategist and a leader in his community. He’s funny and charming and a good man and he deserved so much more love and care and development because he’s truly a fascinating character. But all the writers saw was a black guy who made quips and I am still so angry about it. Anyway, I love Gunn, he is, by far, the best man on the show and possibly in the entirety of the Buffyverse.

1. Cordelia Chase

Cordelia was pretty much the only reason I decided to watch Angel. She’s the best part of the whole show, her character growth is absolutely phenomenal, and I love how she grows as a person while still remaining wholly herself. I love her so much and I’ll forever be bitter about what the writers did to her and how terribly Whedon treated Charisma Carpenter.

[ssa-dg]

Undercover Part 1

part 1, part 2

Overview: the BAU has gone undercover to find a potential unsub who has been drugging, raping and murdering women. It own becomes a potential victim. Having to play her part to catch the bad guy, you go to the party all dressed up and dance with a potential murderer all while pretending he is someone else, Spencer Reid.

TW: drugs, rape (it is mentioned how the unsub rapes his victims. the reader is drugged and the unsub takes advantage of her being drugged and begins to take off her dress), murder, sex, adult themes. if these types of things are triggering for you please don’t read. I’m just a average person who tried their best to not cause people to be upset. If this is problematic I’m sorry I didn’t mean for it to be and will take it down.

Relationship: Spencer Reid x (female)reader

word count: 3,384

Author’s note: so this is my first ever Criminal Minds story. If it garners enough attention I will do more parts (honestly even if it doesn’t I probably will lol) PSA: I have never been under the influence of MDMA and honestly I don’t judge if people who do it consensually and safely (which is harder said then done). this is how I imagine it to be like to be on it. Also I like writing and I like sharing my writing because all of the great fan fics that cause me happiness, if I can cause that reaction just to one person that’s enough for me

You would do anything to save the world. Maybe it was a hero complex, maybe it was some form of glory seeking, or maybe it was the only way you knew how to fill the dark abyss you felt when you did nothing of importance. Being a part of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, helped with that. Being on the team gave you everything you needed, a family and a way to save others. Maybe saying you love your job isn’t the correct way to explain your emotions but you knew no better way. Although you wish a job like this wasn’t necessary and didn’t even exist, it did.

Your team meant the world to you and you would contribute almost in any way to help find an unknown subject. So when Penelope Garcia was able to connect the killings in New York City to some private “rich people” clubs, her and the team created a plan to infiltrate.

The victimology was specific. It was all rich young women ranging from the ages 19-30 who just moved into the city to find themselves.

The profile was an easy one to figure out. He was obviously a troubled young white male who was probably an heir of some sort. He was richer than what most people think is rich. He usually meets the victim at a high society social event. Then he’d take them to a more exclusive social event. After that he would drug them with MDMA, rape and kill them.

It was hard for the BAU to get much out of the enclosed and tight group of New York’s most elite families. So going undercover at an event where the unsub could potentially hunt for prey was what made most sense. Your jobs was to observe the women and men there and try to see if any of you could fish out the unsub. 

They had done it in the past but usually they did their best work by watching and observing. So here the team was, their second night in a row all dolled up in fancy cocktail dresses at some art gallery. Tara Lewis and Luke Alves stood around a table pretending to talk to each other as they observed potential victims. Jennifer Jareau, Spencer Reid, and Matt Simmons stood at another end of the room checking for the potential unsub, while your unit chief, Emily Prentiss, and you were pretending to be alone at the event eavesdropping on rich families. You listened to those around you while also scanning the room looking for potential young white men talking to lone young women. “Ten o’clock to the creepy face painting,” you heard Alvez say in your small earpiece. You calmly turned pretending to look at the other art pieces and saw a white male in his mid-thirties walking up to a female. He placed his hand on her low back as he leaned in to talk to her. Emily being the closest nearby out of you two, moved closer acting like she was going for some hors d’oeuvres. “That’s not him. He’s too drunk. I can smell all the alcohol he has consumed. He would need to be smoother than that,” Emily whispered as she took a sip of her glass. That’s how most of the night went. We followed and stared at people who might be the unsub and then filed them out. You felt yourself losing hope. You hated this part of the job. The one that made you feel like the profile was wrong and you all would have to start over, which there was never time to start over. Someone could die. That’s when you felt a hand touch the small of your back, your body tensed up immediately. “Relax,” he whispered in your ear. But you didn’t need to force it, because when you turned to look at the person who touched you, you were met with the face of beauty and your body instantly relaxed. You knew this was a dangerous reaction, as would probably many of Ted Bundy’s victims.

The man before you had slicked back short dark hair, bright blue eyes, strong symmetry in his facial features, and strong cheek and jaw bones. He smiled wickedly at you, causing you to intake a sharp breath. It was so sinister but also so beautiful. It wasn’t the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen, no that was reserved for your teammate, best friend, and love of your life (even if he didn’t know it) Spencer Reid. Now, Spencer’s smile was one you could get lost in. You refocused yourself to the beautiful man in front of you. “They say the artist intended for this particular piece to show trauma while he was drinking. His other pieces are other emotions on different drugs,” his deep voice rattled through your ears. You wanted to unwrap yourself from this man’s embrace. How dare he touch you like that without your permission. “Play along,” Luke spoke as he saw a scowl beginning to form on your lips, “he could be the unsub.” You smoothed the scowl into a smile. “It doesn’t look like it depicts trauma,” you responded dumbly. The man before you cocked his head to the side giving you a lopsided smile. “I guess it all depends on how someone experiences trauma,” the smile now wicked, and scarier. A shiver went up your spine. “Are you cold?” He asked, noticing it, while looking you up and down like he could devour you. “No,” your voice came out scratchy as your throat went dry. You cleared it politely. “Just thinking-” “About your own trauma?” He asked. You could hear the fake tone of concern. That snapped you out of your fear. The pictures of all the murdered women that brought the BAU to this case flashed before your eyes. “Maybe,” the smile you plastered on your face was a one you knew he wanted, a sad smile. You were going to play this role like it’s no one's business because you were here to catch a bad guy and if flirting with a creep got you there then so be it. He leaned in closer to your ear, “my name is Alistair Constantine,” you immediately recognized the name. It was on the list of potential unsubs for the profile. His family’s money was old, going back to the revolutionary war. The family seemed to always be updating with the times and never losing that money. You leaned into his other ear and introduced yourself.

Spencer’s hands were clutched at his side as he watched you interact with the Constantine boy. He felt in his gut at this moment, Alastair was the unsub. The way he was looking at you, it was like you were a quest to conquer. Spencer knew he couldn’t just come up, break you two apart and blow the whole investigation but boy did he want to.

Alastair paraded you around the room.  Every now and then he would talk to fellow members of the society. It took everything in you to pretend that you didn’t want to beat his ass right then and there. You were always an imaginative kid growing up so you blocked out the gruesome pictures of the crime scenes and instead pretended this was your life a young New York woman getting special treatment from a handsome man. It was easier to fit the rom-com role then what was actually happening. Alistair stopped in front of a painting that was particularly psychedelic looking with bright pastel colors. “This is my favorite piece by the artist. This was when he was on Ecstasy. Look at the happiness and distorted-ness to the art. It’s amazing,” he gushed. It would have been odd that he picked this particular painting to attach too, but it was a strong tie to the method of his killings. “Humankind cannot bear very much of reality,” you spoke out, breaking Spencer from his thoughts about if they had enough information to convict Alistair for the murders. Alistair looked at you funny, not understanding why you would say that. “T. S. Eliot” you told Alistair while Spencer whispered it at the same time. a ghost of a smile playing on your lips when you heard Spencer’s voice. “It’s what I think of when I look at this art. T. S. Eliot is one of my favorite poets,” you blushed at your admission. It felt like for a second, with having just heard Spencer’s voice, that you were talking to him instead of Alistair. Spencer was now looking straight at you two. His eyes held bewilderment, he has known you for years and you never once mentioned this, and he knew you knew this was something he cared about. 

“Indeed,” Alistair yawned. 

The next 30 minutes was you telling him how you’d grown up in Boston, Massachusetts, that you had no close relatives anymore, and how when your parents died their life savings all went to you (all of it true), the lie came when it was to talk about why you moved to New York City, what you wanted to do with your life etc. And he ate it up every second. You played the roll of being the lonely damsel in a big city trying to find the answer to life. You were his ideal victim and you knew that he didn’t even question how perfect you were. 

The night ended with an invite to the society’s ball tomorrow night, and Prentiss fed your ear a fake address for Alistair to send a car to tomorrow. You ordered an Uber to the address where Emily said they’ll pick you up to not seem suspicious in case Alistair sent someone to follow you. Once at the address the FBI’s SUV pulled up and you got in. It was Spencer who picked you up, which was unusual, as he never liked driving. You climbed onto the passenger seat and saw his knuckles were white from the strength of his grip on the steering wheel. It didn’t take a profiler to know Spencer was mad. “Spencer, are you alright?” You approached with a soft whisper. There was a pause of silence, Spencer calculating if he should be honest. He eventually gave into the truth as he knew that he couldn’t hide it from you. “No,” he growled, the anger in his voice causing you to jump in surprise. “No, I am not okay. That man is a murderer and he was holding you in his arm! You two were practically dancing around the room in there. We have put you in danger and now, now you are his next target, his next victim!” he hit the wheel in anger. You had never seen Spencer this angry before. Most times when Spencer got angry, he got smart and he used his logic to fight but now he sounded emotional. “Spencer,” you raised your voice, “I am not a victim, I’m an agent. I will do what it takes to protect others. Just like you.” In anger Spencer swerved the car to the side and put it in park. “Dammit, You don’t get it,” he yelled and turned towards you. “If he is our unsub, which we both know he is, I’ve run the calculations and the risk is too high for you,” his hands flying everywhere in gestures, “There are too many dependent variables. There isn’t enough for us to control. The probability of you getting hurt or,” he stopped to collect himself, and in a quieter voice said, “or worse, it’s too high. I’ve run the math.” Now that sounded more like the Spencer you knew. A soft smile crept onto your lips, then you quickly neutralized your face, in hopes he wouldn’t see the way his concern for you made you feel. And You couldn’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t let yourself feel happiness when Spencer showed you affection, because it eventually just leads to heart break. Subconsciously, you turned more towards him in your seat, “In your math is there probability that we get this guy and he never gets the opportunity to hurt another woman again?” You asked. Spencer gave you a pained look like he knew where you were going. You countered that look with one that told him to answer the question. He let out a heavy sigh, “yes. There is that possibility.” You smiled at him knowing you won the argument, “That settles it then.”

With everyone back in the small conference room at the police station, the conversation began about what to do tomorrow. No one was pleased that one of their own is now the target but there was truth that the situation was now more in the BAU’s control than before. Everyone also believed in you. They knew the risk and that scared them but also you are a Special Advisory Agent for a reason. Relief did not fill you but neither did dread, when you thought of the plan. You were doing the right thing. It didn’t matter if you were going to put yourself in danger.

Spencer kept pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. Something that happened when he started to get headaches and you could guess this headache was caused by stress. As the rest of the team started packing up, you stared at your best friend hurting over the stress you were causing. You took a seat next to Spencer. He was still wearing his suit from the party. “We are going to be okay tomorrow,” you comforted him. He looked up at you, “I’m not worried about all of us, I’m worried about you,” he confessed. Once again, you knew these words shouldn’t have an effect on you like they did, but it did and this time there was something that felt hidden behind those words, something more. “I trust you not to let anything happen to me,” You countered and placed your hand on his forearm to comfort him. You looked in his eyes and tried to let him know that there is more than just trust there. 

The day of the ball, you got ready in the police station bathroom. It wasn’t exactly how you imagined to be getting ready for your first ball in New York City. You’d rather be wearing this gown for other reasons than going undercover to catch a murderer rapist. The Givenchy dress Garcia picked out was gorgeous (as you instructed her to get a designer to fit in the crowd and you would float the bill). It was a long evening dress in blue and green with a gradient-effect. The top had long puffed sleeves, deep V-neckline, and waist accentuated with smooth lamé and long flared skirt. You put your hair up in a loose low bun. The makeup you did was a smooth eye with long flair eyeliner. You put a heavy amount of glow highlighter on your cheek bones and collar bones to accentuate the deep v cut the dress. 

You felt ridiculous walking out of the bathroom into the police station wearing your dress. But the way Spencer looked at you was something powerful and intoxicating, making you forget your embarrassment. You strode up to him. A small smile played on your lips looking up at him. You saw him also smiling at you “You’re almost as tall as me,” he blurted out. You let out a small laugh, “‘I guess that’s what heels will do,” you smiled looking down at your feet. Spencer felt ridiculous that’s what he said. He should have told you how amazing you looked or how your beauty felt like the sun- always pulling him in and having his thoughts orbit around you. But he wasn’t good with voicing his feelings (especially in a room with his colleagues). 

“We are going to have Officer Melinda Jackson drive you over to the apartment, And stake out the car. She’ll be on the radio the whole time till you are in range with us. We will be at the Capitale when you get there.” Emily disclosed as she strapped on a microphone and earpiece.

You stepped out of the car with your head held high even though your anxiety was on another level. “i’m here,” you whispered. “We are here too,” Tara responded. Everyone disclosed where each one was to you. The venue was massive and beautiful. The ceiling was tall with ornate decorations. The lighting was a bright orangish glow. As you examined the room, checking each point of your team, you also saw Alistair. He was at the bar with what looked like to be a group of his friends. Spencer not too far behind them. You walked towards Alistair but kept your eyes on Spencer. He took your breath away dressed in a tux and his hair slicked back like he used to when he was younger. It felt like your heart was lit on fire just by looking at him all dressed up. He was staring at you intensely. It wasn’t that the world stopped the moment your eyes met his, but it was more like everything else just didn’t matter. You knew you’d have to look away soon to not give away anything but you took him in for just one more second. “You look amazing,” you heard a voice next to you say. You turned to see the ever good looking Alistair. He wore a navy 3 piece suite with a large Gucci tag on the sleeve, and a large Gucci flower pinned on his chest. You gave him a soft smile and returned his compliment. “I want to introduce you to my family. Their approval means everything,” he offered you his arm. You took it tentatively,  Spencer watched him lead you away, and he pondered on Alistair’s odd statement about family approval. 

Alistair’s family was everything you’d expect. They were proper and pompous. However they liked you, a lot. You fell right into the role you had to play. You stood there laughing and engaged in the conversation with his mom and cousin. 

“Shall we dance?” Alistair asked, giving you his hand, as your conversation with his sister came to an end. You nodded and let him take you to the dance floor. 

He spun you out and brought you back in close to start the dancing. You gave him a bright smile at his eccentric action. You closed your eyes and let your mind pretend it was Spencer holding you. You followed his lead as he twirled you both around the dance floor. “Stop dancing, we can’t see you,” Spencer frantically said into your ear piece. You snapped your eyes open. Taking in that you were on a secluded corner of the dance floor by an exit door. “You are special. My family, They like you” Alistair said with a sense of manic to it. “you aren’t like the others,” he admitted. His voice sounded different. It was sinister with a tinge of adoration. He pulled you close, so close that his fingers dug into your hand and back. You felt like your brain was freezing up in fear. How many times had you been in fear inducing situations and why did your brain pick now to not work. “you’re hurting me,” you groaned trying to pull yourself away. “Where are you” JJ yelled but then you felt mist hit you, and your mind begin to make things fuzzy, “the left corner, the spray…in the flower,” you breathed out, hoping the team could hear you. You heard a rattle of commands to your co-workers from Emily. Then it went black.

Spencer rushed through the crowd to find you but by the time he got to the corner you told him you were at, you were gone. “She’s not here,” Spencer panicked into the ear piece. “I just saw a black Tesla leave, license plate delta, alpha, hotel nine, one, two ” Luke informed them. “Call and ask them to run it”, Rossi said urgently. “on it,” Luke replied. “JJ and Reid, go talk to the mom and sister, Tara and Matt split up and talk to his friends and the other family members. They have to know where they are,” Emily demanded