#i will write about my wife joke too because he too is a victim of prejudice but a veey different one that is once again

[yeonbam]

People who wonder why Jack is so sensitive about Joke’s constant theft to get his way, even if it is for Jack, forget that one of the main prejudices against economically struggling classes of people is that those from privileged classes look at them with suspicion of crimes like theft literally chronically.

And Jack is the kind of person who is extra hard on himself because of the things he doesn’t have and he wants to escape this ‘othering’, this dehumanization of sorts, by using with what he has— his skills and knowledge, i.e. socially acceptable means.

This aversion to theft is seen even in Tattoo’s mother when she chastises her son for stealing from Boss despite how much they are literally suffering because of him. To escape prejudice against poor people being inherent thieves, they have to be ten times better than the average person, can't be immoral the same way the rich are, or else their suffering magically becomes "deserved" because they're not "good poor people."

YET, the complexity of this othering is so deep that even wanting to be self-reliant is frowned upon, as you see when Joke’s Dad criticizes Jack for being ‘poor but proud’ to want to give his grandmother the best medical treatment.

The reality is, the source of this ‘pride’/self-reliance, is literally… never having anyone who will help you out of your situations. Boss helping his grandmother with medicine was literally a scheme to use her to control Jack. And help for the hospital bills came at the price of his life and identity in the hands of Boss.

The first time Jack got help for his dream was from Joke and it ended in the shattering of his hopes due to betrayal and being almost involved in theft— of all things.

Jack is the amalgamation, of all these expectations from others and from himself. He is simultaneously inclined to be the perfect ‘victim’ and the saviour who, having lost his own childhood, wants to give all the things he never had to the children. It is going to be a chance for them and a second chance for himself. He formed this idea when he too was just a baby.

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter nine: "Entropy"

Summary:  Diana's health hasn't been well, and Spencer is forced to spend some time away from his pregnant wife and daughter. The day has come for Spencer and his wife to meet their nemesis: Cat Adams. Word count: 15.345 words  Warnings: smut, angst, Spencer is in danger, spoilers of Criminal Minds "Entropy"  A/N: I loved writing this chapter more than I can actually explain. I really need feed back 'cos I want to know what you think. 

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Spencer's point of view

There was a case that changed everything for me and my family while working at the BAU. And it all started with a network of hitmen targeting our dearest Penelope Garcia. We had been blind for months, no one ever noticed what was happening under our eyes. It hadn't been a good couple of weeks for us, because my mom hadn't been doing so well with her medicine and her doctors had changed it three times already. I wanted to visit her, but with (Y/N) already four months into her second pregnancy, and still having very bad days, plus the team down one agent, time wasn't on our side.

When did we notice something potentially awful was about to happen? It started the day JJ came back from her maternity leave.

Penelope had organized a little welcome-back party for JJ. She decorated her desk with all the pictures Jennifer had sent us during her absence. Rossi brought a box of Cuban cigars, and (Y/N) and I got little Michael a new brand set of encyclopedias.

- "And I realize that most of this information is most likely on that "internet," but you can never teach old-fashioned research habits too soon."- I pointed out as JJ stared at me and nodded.

- "I tried to stop him, but he was too excited."- (Y/N) joked and everybody chuckled.

- "You are radian, (Y/N)! How many weeks?"- JJ hugged my wife and stared at her with a massive smile

- "Sixteen and counting."

- "How's the little guy doing?"- Rossi asked Jennifer, making her smile filled with pride right away.

- "Oh, he's good. He's sleeping through the night for now, at least. Oh, and, Spence, I showed him the picture of when you first visited and he started kicking his little legs and he smiled real big!"- JJ looked excited as she kept talking to me, and Rossi grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks.

- "Who wouldn't get excited seeing that bella faccia?"

- "I think he wants to see you. You should visit us this weekend. With Raven, of course."

- "We would love to go."- (Y/N) replied and held my hand very tight.

- "You know, studies have shown that babies begin exhibiting cognizable nonverbal communication within days of birth."- I was about to add something else when JJ shook her head and looked at Pen.

- "And some things never change."- so I guessed she preferred that I stopped rambling, she always complained when I did.

- "Yeah. And some things do, and because of that, we took the liberty of doing... this"- Garcia walked JJ to her desk and showed her all the framed pictures she had set there.

- "You guys, I love it. It's... it's perfect. Thank you, all of you."- JJ paused for a second and looked over Hotch's office. He and Morgan were having a serious conversation locked in there. - "Almost all of you."

- "They're debriefing."- Rossi explained and grabbed one of the citron bottles Garcia had brought.- "But we can toast in the meantime."

And so we did. We toasted and drank for JJ and her kids. In the back of my head, I kept thinking that now that she was back, I could take a few days to visit my mom and put an eye on her, maybe talk with some other doctors to review her treatment.

Our celebration ended when Rossi's daughter, Joy, entered the FBI with a case. It started like an investigation she was writing for Esquire, and she ended up discovering a pattern of young women's abductions from colleges from all over the country.

Morgan and I drove to campus and talked with one of the victim's friends, who had seen the last one to see her, 'cos they had been to a party together. That helped us retrace her last movements. Then, me and JJ were sent to the street to try to find a clue as to where that poor girl had been abducted, or by who. We had a suspect on camera, but no name, no nothing.

My phone rang when JJ and I were walking through a lonely alley. It was from my mother's doctor's office. I hung up and texted that I was calling back later. And of course, that didn't go unnoticed by JJ.

- "Everything ok?"

- "Actually, no. My mom's not doing so well. The doctors have had to change her medicine three times to try to stabilize the schizophrenia."- I simply said it 'cos I didn't want to talk much about it. I knew she wasn't going to let that go if I didn't tell her what was going on.

- "Spence, why didn't you say anything?"

- "Well, (Y/N) and I have been talking about going to see her, but I don't want her to travel in her condition. And we've been so busy at work and with Raven..."

- "But why didn't you tell me? You know you can trust me. I'm your friend."

- "I didn't want to bother you."- which was true: I didn't want to tell her 'cos she was on maternity leave until that morning, besides, it was a delicate issue and I just wanted to talk about it with my wife.

- "Ok."- she held my arm and stood in front of me. - "That's never possible. Got it?"- I nodded and looked at her, trying to smile.- "How long has this been going on?"

- "It's gotten really bad in the last few weeks."

- "Look, the minute we are done here, you need to go help her. She needs you."

- "I know. (Y/N) and I already talked with Hotch this morning. As soon as the case is done, I'll fly to Vegas."- JJ nodded and smiled, but it felt forced somehow.- "But right now, we need to focus on the case, alright ?"

It's not that I didn't value JJ's friendship, but I didn't feel like opening up with her at that moment. We had to work, and me and my wife had already talked about what we had to do, and how to do it. We had our plan. I just needed to execute it.

Sometimes I still felt JJ treated me like a kid, like the first few years I worked with the FBI. She no longer tried to make me eat greens or comment on my outfits, but from time to time she had those moments where she'd treat me like a kid brother who needed a grown-up's guidance. And honestly, I hated it. We were friends, we supported each other, but I didn't need her to patronize me.

That was one of the main reasons why I had taken a step aside in my friendship with JJ. I wasn't mad at her or anything and I still loved working with her. But since she had baby Michael, we weren't spending as much time with her and Will as we used to. They didn't have as much time as they used to either, they had two kids. And back then we were spending a lot of our free time with Morgan and Savannah and with Lu and her boyfriend.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I knew Spencer didn't want to leave us alone, but he had to visit his mom. She needed him, and we had a big net of support. I could handle a few days on my own with Raven. Even four months pregnant. So, as soon as the case was done, he got into a plane to visit Diana.

Raven and I planned our whole week to the T. We had sleepovers every night on our bed, watched movies, read stories together to her sister or brother, and played with her dolls. Mikey, Lu, and Frank visited us, and they called us daily to know if we needed anything. And Spencer video called us every single night, right before Raven's bedtime. He would ask about our day, and what she had done, if she had fun at school (she was already in preschool, and she loved everything about it). He would also read her a short story to help her sleep and then talk to me for a while.

Diana was not getting better. In fact, things got worse when Spencer was in Las Vegas, which is why one week turned into two and soon into three.

- "I'm so sorry, chipmunk."- my husband whispered through the line. It was late at night, Raven was already asleep and sound in our bed, and I was having one last cup of tea on the phone with Spencer.

- "It's ok, honey bunny. We miss you like crazy, but we are fine. It's your mom I'm worried about."

- "Well, things are not looking so good here. I got the results of the test today."- my heart stopped with those words, and I could feel the pain in Spencer's words as he confessed the truth. - "She has an early onset of dementia. Most likely Alzheimer."

- "Honey..."- everything and anything I could have told him that minute was completely useless. I heard him sobbing at the other side of the line as tears fell from my eyes.

- "And I can't help her, no matter what I do. I can't."- he mumbled through the line. My arms hurt 'cos I couldn't hug him, and I didn't want my husband, the love of my life, crying alone in some hotel, when he had a wife who could comfort him.

- "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Spencer."

- "The worst part of it all is thinking this can all happen to me as well. I could carry the same gene. I might start forgetting all our memories. One day I could not recognize our own kids."

- "Spencer, don't."- I tried to stop that train of thought, but it was clearly too late for that, my husband's mind had gone to the darkest places.

- "And there's nothing I can do about it either, I mean, there is no cure for dementia. Some medication might delay it a few years at best, but I'm doomed."

- "Spencer, stop. Don't think that. You don't know what's gonna happen. You can't think that right now. You need to focus on your mom. You have to help her. There is still time to help her."

Spencer sighed and wiped his nose. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, he just tried to calm himself down as I whispered how much I loved him, and how proud I was of him.

- "You are an amazing son, honey. You do everything you can to make sure your mother is healthy and fine."- I knew I was telling him the truth, but I also knew nothing I could say to him would ever help him feel better.

- "It's not enough."- he whispers and breaks into tears again.

- "No hon, you will always keep trying to do better, 'cos it's your mom we are talking about. But you can't do miracles."

I will never forget the day he told me he felt he had failed in life as a genius because his plan to find the cure to schizophrenia before turning 25 never came true. We were just friends back then, and I remember I hugged him tight on my couch and heard him weep. The effect of hearing him sobbing on the other side of the country was just as heartbreaking then as it was before. I loved Spencer so much I couldn't stand him being sad or in pain. I much rather suffer myself than know he was unhappy.

- "I'm sorry, ma cherie. I'm bringing you down."

- "Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive."- I quoted Charlotte Bronte and I could almost see his smile as I did.

- "You've been reading a lot in my absence?"

- "I try, but reading alone it's not as fun as reading with you."

- "I'll come home soon, ma cherie."

- "Come home when your mom is feeling better. We'll be here, waiting for you with your favorite dinner and a million hugs and kisses."

- "How is the baby?"

- "Kicking my bladder is their favorite game apparently."- Spencer didn't say anything, he made a long pause and finally sighed.

- "I'll come home this week. I can't be far from my family for too long."

- "Why don't you bring your mother with you? She is part of this family."

- "No chipmunk, she has to stay here with the doctors. They have to take care of her, monitor her, and analyze the meds they are giving her."- Spencer didn't hesitate to decline my suggestion.

- "Promise me you will take her home with us if it's needed. She can stay with us, Raven loves her."- my husband paused and sighed one more time, before telling me the complete truth.

- "My mother hasn't been much herself in the last couple of days. And I'm afraid to bring her home to you and Raven."- I knew Diana had been violent but I never understood how much. For years I inferred she had never been aggressive with Spencer during her episodes when he was young, but when my husband hesitated to bring her around our own daughter, that's when I realized she was in fact, out of herself.

- "Just don't leave her alone if she still needs you."- I whispered and rubbed my belly. - "We miss you, but we know you're doing the right thing."

- "Thank you, chipmunk. Mom asked about you today."

- "Did she? Really?"- I got super excited with the news and even a little emotional, and I blame the hormones for my reaction.

- "Yes, she said of all the things I had accomplished in life, having you as my wife was the best of them."

- "Diana is such a wise woman."

- "That's true, my love."

Four days later, Spencer was back home. During that time, I spent most of my time at the BAU with Penelope and Raven. Our dear friend was currently living there, and of course, she was miserable. A band of hitmen was after her, there was no way she was enjoying her forced stay at Quantico. Which is why Raven and I spent as much time with her as possible. We baked her cupcakes and had a tea party with her in her room, which was actually an old office. Hotch joined us, which was adorable because he was always a sweetheart with Raven. He even wore the tiara Raven gave him.

- "How is my boy wonder?"- Pen asked as she poured a cup of real tea for me. I cut her a short smile and I guess that was enough for her, 'cos she read me right away. - "That bad, eh?"

- "I'm glad he is on his way back home. I've missed him so much."- I whispered and looked at Raven, having a tea party with Hotch. - "And birdie misses him as well."

- "She looks so much like him. She's a tiny carbon copy of her dad."- I chuckled and nodded. I've always said little Raven is exactly like her dad in every single way.

- "Same eyes and wild hair."- I added and Pen smiled.- "I wonder if the next baby will look a little like me."

- "When will you know what you are having?"

- "We have a scheduled check-up next week. I wanna ask the doctor then."

After another half hour, I drove home. We let Garcia get ready for dinner, and I wanted to cook something nice for my husband. His flight was scheduled to arrive at DC at seven, which meant he'd be home after right. Raven and I stopped to get groceries and cooked dinner for Spencer.

Our daughter was incredibly excited to wait up for her dad, after her bedtime. She refused to go to bed until she kissed him welcome back home. My heart melted when I heard her rambling nonstop about all the things she wanted to show her dad. She listed all her dolls, her books, and the drawings she had made during his absence. Raven was honestly hyped waiting for Spencer, which is why when we heard the key in the door, she ran to welcome her dad as fast as her little legs allowed her to run.

- "Daddy!!!"- she yelled and literally threw her arms around him as soon as she saw him. Spencer kneeled and hugged her tight, carrying her in his arms and kissing her chubby cheeks over and over again.

- "I missed you so much, baby girl."

- "I missed you too, Daddy!"- I stared at them with tears in my eyes as my husband looked at me with a big smile.

- "Come here, chipmunk."- he opened his arms and hugged me too, kissing my temple and making me feel at home, finally safe in his arms.

- "Just as promised, we are waiting for you with your favorite dinner."- I announced after kissing his lips softly, hearing Raven arguing we were gross.

- "Chicken tandoori?"

- "Homemade chicken tandoori."- I corrected and watched his smile grow bigger.

- "I missed you so much, ma cherie."

- "I missed you too, honey bunny. Welcome back home."

Spencer's point of view

It took three bedtime stories to put Raven down to sleep. She kept telling me everything she had done during my absence. She remembered everything, down to the t. (Y/N) and I looked at each other, knowing where that could go. We had our suspicions, but we didn't want to run any tests on our daughter just yet. She was only three years old, and she deserved to enjoy her childhood like any other kid would. Like I never did.

After three stories and a long conversation, Raven finally fell asleep. I kissed her forehead and stood up from her bed slowly. (Y/N) held my hand as we walked out of her room and into ours.

- "I can't believe you are finally...-"- she couldn't even finish talking after shutting our bedroom door, because I assaulted her lips. I crushed them with mine and kissed her like I had dreamed of kissing her the entire time I had been away. I don't think I had been far from her for so long before, and I swear, I didn't want to repeat it ever again.

- "Mine."- I whispered as my lips moved from her lips to her neck, biting and sucking to leave a mark. (Y/N) giggled as I did, and then moaned, a sound I could never ever get tired of.

I felt her hands unbuttoning my shirt as we continued kissing. I couldn't take my hands off my wife, and I quickly started getting her naked as well. I stared at her soft skin as I nearly ripped the t-shirt she wore that day, and quickly connected my lips to her skin one more time.

- "I missed you so much."- she whispered as she tangled her fingers in my hair.

- "Trust me, I missed you more."- I groaned and unzipped her pants quickly.

- "Sorry the belly got so big while you were gone..."- I don't know why she felt like she needed to apologize for looking so perfectly mine. My hands moved immediately on her skin. I looked at her eyes as I kneeled in front of her, attaching my lips to her belly.

- "You look perfect, ma cherie."

- "I look round and huge."

- "Mine, all mine, carrying my baby for the world to see."- I made my way down her belly until I reached her underwear, and slipped my fingers underneath the fabric.

- "Spe...-" she mumbled but suppressed any sound biting her lips. She knew we had a little daughter in the next room, and she couldn't make a sound.

- "I got you, ma cherie. Let me make you feel good."- she sat on our bed and I followed her, still down on my knees, and hid my face between her tights, a place I could live in. I kissed her inner thighs and made my way to her underwear, which was just starting to look damp.

- "When you said you were gonna wait for me with my favorite dinner, this was what I had in mind."- I whispered and heard her giggle as I pulled down her underwear slowly and attached my lips to her immediately.

- "God... I missed you."- she whispered and gasped as my tongue reached her most sensitive spot. And I didn't reply, just hummed against her and continued eating her like the starved man I was.

I didn't move from between her legs until I felt her cumming all over my face. And once that happened, I climbed to our bed and kissed her.

- "That was..."- but before my wife could praise me, I moved behind her and kissed her neck as I slowly slipped into her, not saying a single word. (Y/N) made the most beautiful muffled noises as she tried not to be too loud, and I entered her carefully, enjoying every single movement.

- "I thought about you every night I was away. And I realized I can't sleep if you are not with me. I couldn't take you off my mind, not even for a minute."- I increased my peace and bit my lips before I started groaning.

- "I thought I was gonna go crazy without you."- I heard my wife whisper, and my lips attached to her neck immediately. One of my hands was still holding her leg, and the other moved underneath her body, trying to touch as much skin as possible. I craved her warm skin all over me.

- "You have a hold on me no one could ever take away."- I murmured in her ear as the noises of our bodies together filled out you.- "I am yours, ma cherie ."- I added and felt her moan, biting her lips.

- "Mine."- she mumbled as I licked her neck after leaving another mark.

- "All yours. Forever."

I treasured that moment because I had had a very hard couple of weeks away from my family. And I had missed my wife beyond sanity. Nothing prepared me for what I was about to live as soon as I set foot back into the BAU. But it was the case that set the clock for our departure from the FBI.

The following morning, when me and my wife sat around the table in the briefing room, Hotch told us they finally had a lead on the band of hitmen that were after Garcia.

- "Brian Cochran from the NSA. I've placed him on 24/7 lockdown at USP Terre Haute. The network has proven that they can kill anyone, anywhere, anytime, and now that they've targeted Garcia, we can't afford to lose another lead."- Hotch explained, and made a short pause before adding. - "Cochran used one of the hitmen to target DEA supervisor Graff."

- "But we can press him on that to get him to cooperate."- Morgan quickly commented, probably ready to go push that man until giving us all the info he had. But Hotch shook his head and explained.

- "Well, fortunately, that won't be necessary. He had a breakdown in solitary confinement and he was already willing to make a deal."

- "We need to go talk to him."- Rossi suggested, but once again, Hotch shook his head.

- "Garcia and I already did."

- "When?"- my wife asked surprised

- "Last night, after you left."- Pen explained- "We video-conferenced with him. He was limited in what he could tell us about the hit people. He didn't know their names, but he did know all of their areas of expertise."

- "How specific do they get? Most successful hitmen are basically just Swiss army knives of murder."- I asked and my wife chuckled at my analogy.

- "Well, take the O.G. hit guy who got us into this mess, Giuseppe Montolo. Remember him?"- Garcia started explaining.- "He was a genius at making hits look like an accident. The others, depend on what you're looking for. Take the guy that's still out there who's responsible for shooting poor Mr. Graff. He's known simply as the sniper. He can make a T-zone shot from over 2,000 meters."

- "Which means he's ex-military. Not necessarily ours, but he's definitely trained."- Morgan pointed out and we all nodded.

- "So who's number two?"- Tara asked and Garcia quickly answered.

- "That would be the chemist. He works with poison. He specializes in hits that don't leave a trace.

- "He sounds delightful."- Rossi said, staring at the screen.

- "I know, right? I feel they'd be a hit at any party."- (Y/N) added, nodding.- "What about number 3?"

- "Well, that would be the bomber. According to Cochran, he's responsible for this. It's a chemical fire in Tianjin, China."

- "What supposedly happened there?"- (Y/N) asked, watching the scenes on the screen.

- "Apparently a bureaucrat didn't pay his bribe on time."- Garcia whispered, refusing to look at the images.

- "You know that's conspiracy theory garbage."- JJ pointed out, and Hotch immediately replied.

- "But what is credible is Cochran's insistence that he was trained by Mossad. Jack Garrett's following up on leads."

- "That leaves us with number 4, the one with the highest body count of them all."

- "And who's that?"- until this day I regret asking that question.

- "Miss 45."- Pen answered. - "By far one of the most lethal of them all. She is basically a black widow."

- "Just what every bunch needs, some girl power."- (Y/N) added and turned to me with a short smile. I rubbed her stomach as we all heard Rossi's question.

- "How do we get them?"

- "That's why we need the snowman."- the way Garcia said those words made me feel we should have known what she was talking about. But none of us actually did.

- "Great. So who's this Snowman jagoff?"- Rossi asked, frowning.

- "Cochran says he's the I.T. expert. He's the key to the whole network."- Hotch explained.

- "But if he set it up, he's not just gonna tear it down because we ask nicely."- Morgan added. And that was when Hotch dropped the plot twist.

- "He will because he was kidnapped by one of the hitmen and held against his will in a safe house."

- "I wonder how that feels."- Pen whispered and my wife quickly reached for her hand on the table. I knew (Y/N) had spent a lot of time with Garcia while I was gone, not only because she was home alone, but because she knew our friend was clearly going through a very rough path and she needed all the love she could get from her friends.

- "Even if they have him under duress, he's still gonna be impossible to find." - JJ suggested, not being very positive about the whole deal.

- "We will find him with this."- Hotch took what seemed to be a pen from his pocket, but instead, it was a flash drive. None of us said a word 'cos none of us understood what he was talking about. So he explained.

- "This flash drive will give us access to a specific shadow of the Darknet. It came to our possession after we arrested Cochran, and we will use it to localize the safe house."

And so we did.

The following day, we had successfully rescued the snowman, whose name was in fact Barry Winslow, and who ended up being nothing but a poor teenager, lost and forced to work for a hit men's net. We sat around the table with him and tried to get as much information as possible.

- "I can't tell you much about them. It's not like we had a lot of heart-to-heart conversations while they handcuffed me to a computer."- Barry shrugged and looked at us, already defeated, but still willing to cooperate.

- "Do you know any of their names?"- (Y/N) asked him with a warm smile, probably trying to reassure him whatever the answer was, it was ok.

- "No. But I know their bank accounts."

- "How long do you think we have before the other two realize the network's been compromised?"- I asked him-

- "Two days, maybe. They like being independent contractors, so they always work jobs separately. And they rely on me to coordinate all their online traffic."

- "Which I can help fake."- Garcia added and looked at the poor kid.

- "Yeah. We have the facade covered on our end, but they also have back-channel communications that I can't account for. Especially the bomber."- the snowman explained, and Rossi frowned at his words right away.

- "Why him?"

- "I don't know. All I know is when they would rotate watching over me, he never showed."

- "I know why."- JJ added- "He's paranoid. Most explosive experts are. Blow everything up, you live in fear that you're next."

- "We need to find a way to get to the hitwoman."- (Y/N) stated and looked at the team. - "It's the only way to end this whole mess. If we can take her alive, she'll lead us to the bomber."

- "And to do it, we have to give her a target worth coming out of hiding for."- Hotch said, letting us know he had a plan to get her.

- "That means me, doesn't it?"- Garcia whispered and Morgan immediately shook his head.

- "No."- Hotch didn't even hesitate. He just answered right away, not moving a muscle.

- "Sir..."

- "Garcia, that's not gonna happen."- Morgan interrupted her.- "It's too dangerous to leave you out there exposed like that."

- "You have a record of all the kills she was paid for?"- Aaron asked the snowman.

- "I have records of everything."

- "All right. Even a contract killer can have a victimology, a pattern of which she's not aware. We need to find that."

(Y/N)'s point of view

Hotch asked JJ, Spencer, and I to his office that afternoon. Pen had gone through all the targets "Miss 45" had gone after, Spencer and Hotch went through the information, and now they had a plan. A plan I was sure I was gonna hate, only by the worried look in their eyes.

- "These three hits"- Spencer left the files on Aaron's desk and continued talking - "They were all men who wanted to kill their wives."

- "Ok, really can't blame her for doing that."- I mumbled as I took a look at the files, along with Hotch.

- "That's the oldest motivation in the book. Why are they special?"- JJ asked and Spencer explained immediately.

- "She took their money, then killed the men who hired her."

- "All three of them had children."- Hotch pointed out

- "Maybe children are the line hitmen won't cross?"

- "A hitwoman with morals? Seems unlikely."- I refuted JJ's theory as my husband nodded.

- "The chemist and the sniper both performed jobs that involved families. Theoretically, if the price is high enough, a hitman shouldn't have morals. I think these kills are personal to her. Personal enough to risk double-crossing her contract."

- "She is trying to kill someone who hurt her, over and over again."- I added and my husband agreed with me.

- "Maybe something similar happened to her."- Hotch looked at my husband, like knowing what he was about to say. Which he probably knew, in fact.

- "And that's how we get her to come to the table. I pretend to be that kind of client."- Spencer turned to me with an apologetic look in his eyes and JJ didn't even make a sound.

- "What? No! No way!"- I lost it in a second. I was not gonna let my husband be human bate for a serial killer. Not again!

- "Chipmunk, it's the only way we can end this. We have to do it. For Garcia, she needs us."

- "But why you? Why not Morgan?"

- "I'm closer in age, if things don't work, you know she could be more likely to collaborate with a peer."- I stared at Spencer in silence, trying to rearrange the thoughts in my head.

- "How do we know that's gonna work?"- Hotch asked and I opened my eyes. He was in fact considering letting Spencer do that.

- "We don't. It's a calculated risk based on her M.O., which is categorically different than the men."- my husband explained and avoided eye contact with me. He was serious about his suggestions. And I was seriously mad at him for even considering doing something so dangerous.

- "They're cold, clinical, long-distance. She's up close and personal."- JJ added.

- "She knows that she has to be more careful because she actually wants to kill her targets. I'm going to pretend to be a husband who wants his pregnant wife dead."

- "Your pregnant wife wants to kill you right now."- I crossed my arms on my chest, deadpan. - "I can't believe you wanna risk yourself like that!"

- "There will be no risk, chipmunk. I'll just contact her, and set the right meeting spot. A bar or a restaurant we control, so the odds are better of us taking her alive."

- "No."- I replied and bit my lips.

- "Chipmunk, it's our best strategy."

- "But there is one flaw."- Hotch looked at me and at my husband.

- "One? Just one?"- I nearly yelled and opened my eyes, frustrated.

- "We can't let your wife and kid be in danger."- Hotch finished his sentence ignoring my outburst and for once, I wanted to hit him.

- "I am not moving into Penelope's room!"- I argued right away.- "And you are not doing this!"- I added, staring at my husband.

- "Can we talk outside for a moment?"- Spencer walked me to the door and headed to the briefing room in silence. I followed him quietly, holding my 24 weeks belly in a useless attempt to regain my composure. But as soon as Spencer closed the door behind our backs, I lost it and raised my voice.

- "Are you out of your mind?!"

- "Chipmunk...."

- "Why do you always do the same? You put yourself at risk! Do you wanna get hurt? Do you wanna leave me alone?"

- "Ma cherie... No."- he stood in front of me and held both my arms, trying to calm me down.- "Please breathe and hear me out. Nothing is going to happen to me."

- "Of course not! Because you are not going!"- I stated and Spencer sighed, looking right into my eyes. I had to bite my lips not to burst out crying out of frustration right there, but my eyes watered up and betrayed me as tears rolled down my cheeks.

- "(Y/N)..."

- "No, I don't want you to expose yourself like this!"

- "It's the only way to help Garcia, and it's a calculated risk. I know nothing will happen, the team will be there watching my back the entire time."

- "She is a serial killer! And you wanna meet her for dinner!"

- "Look at me, chipmunk."- Spencer moved one of his hands from my arm to my cheek and caressed my skin softly as his other hand rested on my tummy. - "I am not gonna get hurt and nothing bad will happen, I swear."

I took a deep breath, trying to stop the tears from falling. Spencer kissed my cheek and didn't say another word for a moment, just trying to comfort me with his presence.

- "I'm scared."- I whispered and Spencer shook his head.- "I know you say there is nothing to worry about, but I am worried all the time. I don't want you to get hurt."

- "I won't, I swear."- I knew that once he was set on doing something, there was no way I could change his mind. - "We have to help Garcia. And I already ran across all the possibilities. This is the plan with the higher statistics to work."

- "Does it have to be you?"- I whispered, my voice barely perceptible. Spencer kissed my lips for a second, rubbing his against mine soft and sweetly, melting me. And when he parted, he nodded.

- "But I'll be home that night, safe and sound, and we'll have a warm bath, maybe a late bite, and Garcia will be free to live her life and go back to her house."

Of course, I wanted to help Penelope. I was just afraid of what could happen to my husband. But I knew there was nothing I could do or say to change his mind.

- "Just don't get hurt, ok?"- I mumbled and Spencer held my chin, raising my face and reaching my lips one more time.

- "As you wish, Mrs. Reid."

Spencer's point of view

Date night with a serial killer was not what I was hoping for that Friday evening. But it was what I had to face. As I got ready to leave, my wife, Garcia, and I did all the research we could on my lethal date. Starting with her name.

- "Foster care records locked, loaded, and searchable."- Penelope announced as she sat in front of the computer on my desk, ready to hunt Miss 45 down.

- "According to the emails she sent me setting up tonight, her name is Cat. So let's assume her name is Catherine."- I said as I tied my tie like my father-in-law taught me to do the day of my wedding.

- "Give me more."- Pen said typing

- "Suspicious death for mom, and her dad most likely went away for manslaughter."- I continued enumerating as my wife stared at me from her desk, where she was sitting in silence.

- "Keep it coming."- Garcia commanded.

- "Rampant abuse. She would have been in a world of pain."

- "Sadly that does not rule out any Catherines."

- "Her first kills were most likely in the foster environment."- (Y/N) suggested and I nodded immediately.

- "Cross-reference all those families the Catherines went into with accidental deaths of foster dads, and focus on those that have multiple abuse complaints leveled against them."

The computer dinged and a picture appeared on the screen. The three of us stared at it in silence for a moment

- "Catherine Adams."- I said and turned to my wife.

- "She is cute."- I heard (Y/N) whisper and I immediately frowned.

- "What?"- her words confused me. I knew she didn't want me to expose myself to any risk, but I never imagined she could be jealous at any level.

- "I said she is pretty."- she whispered and moved to her desk to grab something that ended up being my bottle of perfume. She sprayed me with it and fixed the neck of my shirt.

- "Ma cherie..."

- "You look very handsome."

- "You do know this is not a real date, right?"- somehow it felt necessary to point that out all of a sudden. - "I am not going out with her because I want to."

- "I know."- she replied and looked away from me.

- "Come here."- I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the top of her nose. All the things I wasn't supposed to do at the bullpen. - "You are the only girl I wanna take out on date night, ok?"

- "I know."- she mumbled and looked down at her hands as she fixed my tie.

- "I'll pick you up in a while, ok?"

- "No, I'm coming with you."- she replied immediately.

- "No, you are staying here. This is not up for debate. I am not taking my pregnant wife to the same room with a serial killer."

- "I don't know if you knew this, but that's what we do for a living, Spencer. I am going."

- "I will not be able to focus if I know you are there. You'll be a distraction."- the deadpan stare in my wife's eyes was serious, but I was not gonna change my mind. Thankfully, Hotch walked over and commanded her to stay behind with him and Penelope, following every movement from the restaurant cameras.

- "Adam changed location at the last minute. We can't be too cautious, Reid."- and by Reid, Hotch meant my wife, who was looking incredibly frustrated and annoyed.

- "I'll be back as soon as possible."- I said and kissed her cheek. She sighed and nodded.- "I love you, ma cherie."

- "I love you too, honey bunny."

- "I'll make breakfast for you and Birdie tomorrow morning, so think what you'll have. You can pick hotcakes or waffles."- I said, trying to ease the mood, and (Y/N) cut me a short smile, nodding.

- "Don't forget the rose."- my wife whispered and handed me the flower.

- "Thank you, ma cherie."

That night could only get worse, I could feel it.

I arrived at the restaurant and the hostess walked me to my table. I had made reservations for two under the name of "Spencer." As soon as I sat down, I left the rose next to me on the table and looked around, trying to calm myself down. Looking nervous was ok, I was supposed to be a little nervous if I was meeting a serial killer to get rid of my pregnant wife. Just, how nervous was I supposed to look?

- "Spencer?"- a woman's voice called my name and I quickly turned around to find Cat Adam standing right next to me, with a big smile on her face.

- "Cat."

- "Hi."- her smile only grew as she stared at me. I quickly stood up to shake her hand and chuckled nervously.

- "Hello. Hi. Hi."

- "Nice to finally..."- she opened her arms and tried to hug me and I immediately took a few steps back.

- "Oh...sorry, I have a... a germ thing."- I explained, sounding as apologetic as possible.

- "Oh!"- she moved back and raised her hands in surrender.

- "I'm kind of weird with hu... hugs."- I even stuttered.

- "Sorry."- neither of us said a thing for a few seconds, we just stared at each other, maybe reading each other's body language. I smiled at her, honestly nervous. I've never been much of an actor and right there I was playing the role of my life.

- "Can I sit down?"- Cat asked and giggled as I chuckled and pointed at the armchair next to her

- "Yes, please. Yeah. Of course. Sit down."- and as we both did, and she took off her jacket, we fell into another uncomfortable silence. Which was good, I wanted to show her how nervous and vulnerable I was.

- "First time doing this?"- she asked me a few seconds later, and I rushed to answer.

- "Yeah. I mean, yeah."

- "Yeah, I... I still get nervous, too."- she assured me, trying to be empathic. Note: sociopaths have zero empathy whatsoever. There were no chances she could ever honestly try to make me feel any better.

- "Really, it wasn't until an hour ago that I was like, wait, we've been trading emails back and forth, but I still have no idea what this guy looks like."

- "Hence the..."- I interrupted her speech, pointing at the rose next to her.

- "I know. And then I was like, wait, he's going to bring a red rose, so we need to go to a nicer place, which is why I switched the restaurant last-minute..."- she continued rambling.

- "Not a problem at all."- I assured her, trying to look a little more calm. But honestly, I was very nervous. I know I had to act awkward and nervous, but that's how I felt. That woman sat across from me was a threat to a friend and potentially my family. She had to be put behind bars as soon as possible.

- "And now I need to change and put something nice on for this place, 'cause I was totally underdressed, and my whole wardrobe makes me look like a Kardashian."- I narrowed my eyes as I looked at her and she paused her words.- "You know know who that is, do you?"

- "No, oh, yeah, Robert Kardashian. He got O.J. Simpson off."- I explained quickly. - "You...you don't look like his daughters."

- "Yeah, no, I was making a joke about them."

- "No, it was good. It was a good joke."- I chuckled and smiled, trying to look natural.

- "No, it wasn't.

- "It was funny.

There was a long pause. No one said a thing, and I couldn't stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong that night. If she knew who I was if she didn't want to willingly, if she had a partner in the room as I had my own backups. All the possibilities. There was too much at stake to take things lightly.

- "Can we start over?"- Cat asked me, breaking the silence and cutting me a warm smile- "Hi, I'm Cat."

- "Hi, hi, I'm... I'm Spencer."- I chuckled, still looking awkward and nervous, and she nodded.

- "It really is nice to meet you, in person, finally."- she said those words in a sweeter tone of voice, trying to look nonthreatening and honest.

- "It's nice to meet you."- I assured her right away.

- "Tell me a little bit about yourself. Do you really have three Ph. D.s?"

- "Yes. I... yeah, I do, I have three Ph.D.s."

- "What was your favorite book that you read last year?"- Cat continued asking random questions and I instantly replied.

- "Honestly, I've never read a book I didn't love."

- "Tell me about your wife."- and somehow that caught me by surprise. I knew that was what we were going to talk about, but my mind went straight to my real wife. The one that was in fact pregnant with my baby. The one I could never harm.

- "If you don't mind, I'd, uh, I'd rather not talk about her."

- "Might as well get it out in the open, right? That's why we're here. How long have you been married?"

- "Six years."- which was true.

- "When is she due to give birth?"

- "Uh... in a couple of... a couple of months."- and for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking we hadn't actually started working on the nursery yet. My old apartment was getting too small for our growing family.

- "Should we talk about price now, or..."- I leaned in and whispered, making sure it felt like we were talking about a secret.

- "Slow down, tiger. What exactly are we negotiating here?"

- "You know."- I looked around, pretending to be worried someone could hear us.

- "I want to hear you say it."- she answered, almost as a dare. So I moved a little closer and whispered.

- "To have her killed."- and for some reason, my words excited her. She tried not to smile and bite her lower lip as she kept staring at me, probably reading my reaction.

- "Let me see your ring."- she asked me and I looked down at my hand, where the golden band rested. She moved slowly and grabbed my fingers on the table and fidgeted with the ring, staring at it. - "You know what that is? A noose. Only it doesn't kill you all at once. It kills you slowly, day by day. You ever feel that way?"

- "I feel that way all the time."- I whispered and took a deep breath knowing my wife was hearing that entire conversation.

- "Take it off."- Cat commanded and looked straight into my eyes.

- "Why?"

- "As a sign of your commitment. To me."- I hated doing what she asked, but I felt like I had to. So I took the band off and put it in her hand. It wasn't even my real wedding ring, it was a fake one. I didn't want to use mine 'cause it had (Y/N)'s name scripted in it, and our wedding date. It felt way too intimate. And I didn't want to carry anything that might put her or our babies in danger.

- "We have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?"- I heard Hotch's voice in my ear. I took a quick look at the security camera and nodded. - "All right, all agents stand by. Dr. Reid will give the green light. Don't move until we have it."

But as Hotch organized the team, Cat kept analyzing my fake wedding ring.

- "Twenty karat?"- she asked me and I hummed. - "24k times... six years means this ring should be dinged and nicked. But the sucker is brand-new. You are a liar."

Shit.

I kept my eyes on her and didn't move a facial muscle. That was when I heard the gun click underneath the table and I knew things were not going to go as smoothly as planned. I wasn't going to make it back home in time for dinner and Raven's bedtime. Again.

- "Why are we here, Spencer?"- Cat asked, looking annoyed. And I was glad I could drop the act.

- "We're here because you belong to a network of four hitmen who've been operating in the shadows of the Internet. You're known as Miss 45. My team and I have been hunting for months, and I knew that if I boxed you in, I could arrest you with as little resistance as possible."

My voice was just a whisper in the room, but I knew she could hear every single word loud and clear.

- "Your team being the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI?"- Cat questioned with a cocky smile. My heart skipped a beat when I realized she knew who we were. That meant she knew us all.

- "You guys are good. You're the only one that got close to us. But we got kind of close to you, too, didn't we?"- Cat kept her eyes glued to me as she said - "Hi, Penelope."

If she knew who we were, she knew who I was married to. And that was the only thing that raised my heart that minute. That woman had to pay for what she had done.

- "Do you know why I'm so good at my job?"- she asked, proudly.

- "Because you kill without compunction or remorse."- I replied without hesitation.

- "That only gets a girl so far in life. No, it's because I think through every potential outcome and then I plan accordingly. You see, I didn't walk into your trap. You walked into mine."

(Y/N)'s point of view

I paced in Garcia's office as I watched my husband being basically set up with a delusional serial killer who knew exactly who he was, and why he was there and had a gun pointing at him underneath the table. I felt nauseous just to think of all the bad things that could happen to him.

Neither Hotch or Penelope said a word. The two of them kept staring at the screen. And I, for once, couldn't even watch.

- "Where's your head, Spencer? What are you thinking about?"- I heard Cat's annoying voice talking to my husband.

- "I was thinking about entropy."- he replied. Always the smartest person in the room. - "It's the thermodynamic measure of the degradation of matter and energy in the universe. To put it another way..."- there was a pause that forced me to stare at the screen. Cat had scooted over in the booth and she was not basically touching Spencer, looking for his gun in his clothes. Her hands were all over him. I wanted to puke.

- "Good evening."- a waiter interrupted them, and for a moment, I had hope. But Cat dismissed him in a second.

- "Hi, uh, you know what? We've been having so much fun getting to know one another, we'll let you know when we're ready, ok?"

And my husband couldn't even move.

- "Now that we got that out of the way, will you do me a favor and tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear."

- "What?"- the question popped out of my lips as I moved closer to the screen to take a better look. - "How did she know that was one of our agents?"- Hotch turned to me and raised an eyebrow, reminding me I had to stay quiet, 'cos everything I said, my husband heard, and he had to remain calm. I couldn't freak him out.

- "JJ, stand down."- Hotch commanded and I turned to him, ready to slap him.

- "Are you serious?"- and he didn't reply. Instead, he just stared at me and I bit my lips.

- "Thanks for playing, sweetie."- Cat waved at JJ as she passed by their table and Garcia held my hand, probably to stop me from losing it. I wanted to yell at JJ that she had been stupid, too obvious sitting there, alone at the bar, staring at my husband the entire time. She hadn't been subtle. It's like she wanted to get caught. But I didn't say a word, thankfully.

- "If she learns how many agents we have outside, she'll start shooting. Dave, get ready to take her out."- Hotch instructed and I watched Rossi on another screen sipping his drink in approval. - "Reid, do not let her get up from the table."

- "All right, you're in charge."- Spencer said in a very low and serious voice, as Cat stared at him with pure hate coming from her eyes - "Tell me what you want and I'll see if I can get it here for you."

- "Anything I want?"

- "Anything you want."- he assured her.

- "Like a million dollars in unmarked bills, maybe a plane to Aruba?"

- "Is that what you want?"

- "And you'll say you'll bring it here, but the real plan is to distract me from what is, I'm sure, an impressive law enforcement response just outside that door. Is that the plan?"- something bothered me. Something else, besides the entire situation. Something made things even worse at that point. And at that minute I realized, Cat Adams was flirting with my husband. And he had no idea what was going on.

- "That's the plan."- he even cut her a little charming smile, which I knew was going to encourage her to continue.

- "Ok, let's talk, but let's talk about something interesting, at least. Tell me about me."- bitch was the classic narcissist sociopath. A part of me knew I should be sorry for her, but I just hated her even more.

- "You? You're a black widow hitwoman. You specialize in seduction and you're patient."- Spencer started his speech, eyes glued to her. - "You learn everything you can about the men you're hired to kill, physically, psychologically, and emotionally because you want them in as compromised a position as possible so they don't see it coming when you pull the trigger."

- "And when I do it really well, they pull the trigger themselves."- that bitch was beyond crazy. - "Give me your phone."- she asked and Spencer raised an eyebrow.

- "Why?"

- "Because I know what I want now. I want to play a game with you. You like games?"

- "I do."- my husband answered calmly.

- "Do you win?"

- "I always win."- he didn't even hesitate, and that cunt was staring at him like he was a three-course dinner, and she was ready to fucking feast.

- "Give it to me."- and Spencer complied. - "Ok, here's my game. You have thirty minutes to answer every question I ask. And if you lie, I'll know. Because I've spent the past ten years of my life studying men and their lies before I kill them. Do you believe me?"

- "I do."

- "That was true. You're getting this. Now, here's how we'll know who wins at the end of thirty minutes. If you win, you'll drag me out of here in handcuffs. But if I win, you will escort me out like a gentleman, to make sure I exit safely. What do you say, Spencer? Think you can win this one?"

Spencer moved closer to her across the table and whispered loud and clear.

- "Considering everything you've put Garcia and so many people through, you're going to have to shoot me in the face before you walk out of here."

- "That would make (Y/N) really angry at me, and it's not safe for her to get mad if she is already six months pregnant, right?"

Garcia turned to me with her mouth open as I stared at the screen not believing my own ears. In all the years we had been working with the FBI that was the very first time a serial killer had investigated me and my personal life before we even got to them.

Spencer didn't move a muscle, he just stared at her looking unimpressed.

- "What do you want to ask me?"- Spencer questioned as if her words hadn't meant a thing to him. Good. Never show a serial killer they have any power over you.

- "How you found me, of course. A professional learns from her mistakes."- that cocky bitch.

- "We got our big break in the case at the end of last year. I didn't learn how big until I came back from some time off."

- "Why'd you take time off?"- oh no...

- "Irrelevant. We got to work a few days ago and our team chief had some new information on the case..."

- "Stop."- Cat interrupted him, looking annoyed.

- "What?"

- "You didn't tell me why you took time off."

- "It's not relevant."

- "That's not the game. The game is you answer every question I ask."- my husband stared at her as if she was just wasting his time. Which I think got her angrier. - "Is it a secret?"

- "No."

- "Is it dirty?"

- "No."

- "Then tell me."- she basically begged, making my blood boil.

- "It's not important to your story."

- "Out of curiosity, is it me you don't want to tell or the people listening in? Does your wife know why you had to take some time off?"

- "Of course I know, bitch."- I whispered and clenched my fist. Spencer didn't seem affected by her words, one more time, and just looked at the timer on his phone and asked:

- "Is this really how you want to spend your 30 minutes?"

- "Yes."- Spencer didn't move and Cat finally gave in. - "No. Ok, so you were saying you showed up for work that morning and..."

- "We learned that someone unexpectedly decided to talk."

- "And who would that be?"

- "Brian Cochran from the NSA."

Spencer continued explaining to Cat Adams how we had managed to get to her, after all those months, and she seemed to be hypnotized by him. She didn't look away, she didn't move from her chair. She was drooling, looking at him as he spoke. Great. Just what I needed, a psycho killer crushed on my husband.

- "That only left us with the fourth killer, the one with the highest body count of them all."- Spencer explained and Cat smiled.

- "Me."

- "Yes."

- "Wow, that was really impressive."- Cat smiled ironically- "Yeah, the way you just made all those brilliant deductions with all that information that was just handed to you on a silver platter. Quick question, are you guys really profilers or are you just lucky? Because this, what I'm about to say is profiling."- she cleared her throat and smugly said: - "The reason you took time off from work was to deal with a fight with your wife."

- "No."

- "The death of a parent, then."

- "No."- there was a slight hesitation in Spencer's voice, and that bitch noticed.

- "Ah, hello, I'm getting close. It's mom or dad in the billiard room with the candlestick."- Spencer deadpanned her, but that seemed to make her incredibly happy. I hated that bitch more and more with every passing second.

- "Oh, you're mad at me, aren't you?"- she teased him.

- "Not even a little bit."- Spencer whispered.

- "Yes, you are, I can tell."

- "No offense, but you're not really worth getting angry at."- Cat didn't reply, she just stared at him right in the eyes in silence for a moment.

- "Please, let me kill her."- I murmured to Hotch, but he didn't say anything.

- "So you figured out what the four of us did, and then what?"- Cat continued asking. That was gonna be the longest thirty minutes of my life.

- "We profiled that you operated as spokes on a wheel. Somehow it had to be centralized, how you got jobs, who paid you. Somebody did all that for you."

- "You found the Snowman, didn't you?"

- "We did. Thanks to the information we got from Cochran and some help from Hotch."

- "I'm confused. What just happened there?"- Cat asked, and Spencer explained what we had done in the last couple of days.

- "When we arrested Cochran, we found a flash drive, one that gave us access to a specific shadow of the Darknet, one we didn't even know existed. Garcia used it to find the website that Snowman set up for all of you. Once we had the website, we had geography, specifically, the safe house you were keeping him in. So we waited until the shift change when we knew we could take two of you down at once."

- "Well, well, well, you took the chemist and the sniper out of commission, huh?"

- "Did you know?"

- "I knew something was off. They didn't bid on some contracts. And this isn't the kind of job where you get to take time off to be with your... mother? Is it your mom? It's gotta be your mom.

- "Isn't this bitch going to let it go?"- I whispered, trying not to get caught by Hotch's microphone.

- "Why'd you take time off from the FBI?"- Cat asked my husband one more time.

- "I'm not gonna tell you."

- "Spencer, why did you take time off from the FBI?"

- "You can ask me as many times as you want, and you can continue to waste your time, but I'm still not gonna tell you."

- "Then you're cheating, and I don't like cheaters."

- "You don't get everything you want just because you're pointing a gun at me under a table. You're not the first killer to point a gun at me. You're not even the first woman to point a gun at me."- Spencer cut her a short smile and simply added - "Sorry."

But somehow, I felt that was exactly what Cat wanted him to say. She was enjoying her time alone with him a little too much.

- "You're really gonna take this all the way, aren't you?"- she asked, very relaxed sitting on the sofa across from my husband. I hated every second Spencer had to spend with her.

- "Yeah."

- "So am I."

- "Dave, go."- Hotch commanded, and Rossi quickly moved from his table.

- "Look at my face. Does it look like I'm bluffing?"

- "I know you're not bluffing."- Spencer replied as she moved closer to him and sat right next to him.

- "I'm gonna ask you one more time. Before you say no, I want you to consider something."- and that was all we heard, 'cos she grabbed Spencer's tie and covered the mic.

- "She muffled the mic!"- Garcia gasped as we heard the static in the room. - "We lost audio."

All we could do was stare at the screen, waiting to see what happened. Cat was still sitting right next to my husband and he, for a second, seemed defeated. What was she saying?

- "Rossi, stand down."- that was the next thing we heard, and I felt a bucket of cold water running down my back.- "Please."- Spencer added and turned to David, almost apologetically. Rossi didn't say a thing, he just did as asked, and walked out of the room.

- "My mom has schizophrenia, and the doctor has changed her medication, which seemed to agitate her, and so I went to the treatment center to help her."- Spencer explained quickly, to get that conversation over with. I knew he didn't like talking with many people about our family issues, especially about his mother. That's why that conversation was especially hard for him.

- "That's it?"- and Cat was clearly disappointed.

- "That's it."

- "You just risked your life over mommy's pills?"

- "It's the truth."- but Cat didn't reply. She stared at him, trying to read him and see what else he was hiding.

- "It's part of the truth. You're holding something back. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna penalize you by adding 10 minutes. And keep in mind that the only reason you're not dead right now is because I did learn something important."

- "Oh, really? What's that?"

- "Your backup. I flushed them out. It's just you and me now."

- "Guess again, bitch."- Tara whispered, making me smile as she and Morgan toasted at a table on the other side of the restaurant. My husband would never be alone with that psycho.

Spencer's point of view

I knew (Y/N) was having a hard time dealing with what was going on that night. That's why I wanted to end that situation as soon as possible. But of course, Cat wasn't going to make things easy. She kept asking about my time off the bureau. And I honestly didn't want to tell her 'cause I was already having trouble being there. It felt like my personal life was in danger around that woman. That she could take any piece of information and use it against me at any time.

But right there, in the moment, I had to give her what she was asking, to make her think she was in control. And what she wanted was to know how we had got her.

- "My unit chief agreed with the plan, but he thought there was one flaw."- I finished talking and she quickly replied to my words with an annoying smile.

- "You. You're the flaw. You're married and your wife is pregnant. You can't keep your head cold under those stressing factors."

- "I'm the person on my team who's the closest to your age, and I knew that if I lost control of the situation, you'd be more likely to negotiate with a peer."

- "You have zero control here. None. I outflanked you from the beginning."- I chuckled at those words and simply shook my head.

- "Some of your moves were pretty obvious."- I needed to make her see she wasn't as special as she thought she was.

- "Such as?"

- "Such as showing up armed. Such as changing the venue at the last moment."- I enumerated.

- "I needed a restaurant full of innocents in case this was a trap."

- "If you really suspected this was a trap, then why show up at all? Even when you first laid eyes on me, from the bar, from outside, from wherever you were, you should have seen through me and kept on moving, but you didn't. You couldn't. Because you can't get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt any man who reminds you of him."

- "That's kind of boilerplate psychology, isn't it? I'm just another girl with daddy issues.

- "You'd be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents."- I paused and waited for her reaction. But there wasn't any. - "If it's so boilerplate, why don't we test that theory? How hard did you look for him?"

- "Very hard."

- "And how disappointed were you when you realized that you would never find him? You needed some other outlet for your rage, and for a while, this worked, but it also tripped you up. Can I tell you a little secret? Everything eventually falls apart. The trick is accepting when it's over."

The alarm rang. Time was up. Her silly game had come to an end and she had to surrender peacefully and walk out of that restaurant with me. Just that I knew she wouldn't come easily.

- "Except it ain't over, is it?"- she asked with a crazy look in her eyes.

- "Do you really think I'm just gonna let you walk out of here?"- I raised an eyebrow as I stared at her.

- "You profiled so much about me, except you forgot to ask the most important question. Why would I make you sit here for 30 minutes?"

- "Because you're stalling."

- "Then you don't know me at all. Did you guys show up here without an escape plan? Or is that what just another girl with daddy issues does? Maybe if you hadn't fallen victim to your own gender bias, and, yes, all men have gender bias, even you, Dr. Reid, would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?

- "You're not here alone."

- "And my partner? Less paranoid than you think."- her words gave me cold chills.

- "You planted a bomb in the building."- but she just smiled innocently.

- "I didn't. My job was to keep your entire team focused on us, so he could do what he does best."

- "There are innocent people here."- I had never been so glad my wife had to stay back in Quantico, 'cos if she had been there that night, I could have lost it. I may have even let Cat go.

- "Yes, there are. So let me remind you what we're playing for. Not only will I walk out of here, but you will make sure I leave safely. And from where I'm sitting, it looks like I've won."

I only had one chance to make things right. I couldn't let Cat Adams out of that restaurant, for the sake of Penelope and my own family. I knew, I felt it in my guts, that she would never forgive me for setting her up, she would seek revenge against me and my loved ones. It had to end that night.

- "You need to pay attention to this part. I'm going to tell you the terms of my victory. I want you to move all of your backups away from this building. If I walk out of here and I see one cop, I will incinerate us all."

- "I can't do that."- I tried to explain, but it was useless.

- "Spencer..."

- "It's not me. What you're asking takes time."- so she leaned in closer, grabbed,–))(65+ my mic and spoke directly to the mic.

- "This is to whoever's in charge. Unless you guys want to be responsible for the biggest FBI disaster since Waco, you will back off now."- then, she sat down correctly and cut me a smug smile.- "Watch this."

We waited for a few minutes in silence. I looked around the room at all the people eating dinner, not even a single worry about what was going around them. Their lives were all in my hands, and I only had one chance to save us all.

- "Look at that. There they go."- Cat commented as the waitress started walking around the room, asking every customer to go calmly.

- "All we want to do..."- I started explaining, but she interrupted me.

- "Minimize the collateral damage. I get it. I'm not mad. It'll give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it's clear, so do me a favor and tell your boss that nobody leaves until it's safe for me to."

- "Reid, perimeter agents are pulling back. You have to let her go."- Hotch whispered in my ear, but I refused to follow that instruction.

- "Well?"- Cat raised an eyebrow and waited for my reply.

- "Repeat, all agents, do not engage or pursue until the bomb is defused."- Hotch commanded, but I remained silent, sitting there, rearranging my thoughts.

- "Spencer..."- Adams insisted, getting annoyed.

- "You can leave."- I whispered and she quickly started moving from her seat. - "But you won't."- I said as she stopped walking and turned to look at me.

- "I'm sorry?"

- "Double or nothing. You need to sit back down."- I suggested and Cat stared at me, not believing my words.

- "Reid, what are you doing?"- Hotch asked, and I'm sure I heard my wife arguing at the back.

- "Wow, now you're stalling."- Cat said with a mocking tone of voice.

- "You played your trump card, but I have one, too."- she stared at me in silence, considering her options.

- "Thanks for dinner. I had fun."- and right after they had turned around and started walking away from me, I said.

- "I found your father."- and she immediately stopped walking. She stood there, considering my words, and probably trying to find a reason to leave anyway. Until her curiosity was stronger than her determination, and she turned to question me.

- "No, you didn't.

- "Look at my face. Am I bluffing?"- I simply stared at her with the most serious expression on my face- "I'll tell you where he is. But you need to sit back down and listen to the rest of my story."

- "No. Tell me now or I'll..."- but I cut her off, already tired of that whole situation.

- "Detonate the bomb? You're not gonna do that, Cat, because then you won't learn anything. You said you were good at your job because you think through every outcome. Well, guess what? So do I."- she didn't move for a moment. I could read the struggle on her face. Until she gave up, and sat again in front of me.

- "All right. Finish the story."

- "To prepare for this dinner, I had to learn everything about you, starting with your real name. Catherine Adams. Daughter of Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens. He couldn't put 24 hours together sober. And you can probably imagine my surprise when I discovered that he actually lives right here in D.C.

- "Where?"- she demanded to know, the urgency in her voice letting me know I was hitting the right spot.

- "It's not that simple. He was in bad shape when I found him. I showed him your picture and asked if we could talk about you. I needed to know what had happened, and if he could give me any information about you. But he couldn't."

- "He didn't remember me?"- Cat sounded insulted and hurt.

- "The alcoholism shredded his brain. I'm sorry."- I could relate to her, I knew what it meant to know your own family couldn't remember you. But I couldn't really feel sorry for her, considering the hell she and her team had put Garcia through.

- "You're not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don't understand."- she paused and stared at me like she could actually read me. Which I didn't like one bit. - "Wait. Your mother, tell me."- I hesitated, I didn't know if I should answer that question with the truth, but if I didn't, if she felt I was bluffing, there were some serious chances the entire building would end up in flames. So I did what I had to do, even though I didn't like it.

- "Is... is this part of the game?"- I questioned her, thinking about all the people listening on the other side of my microphone.

- "No. The game's over."

She was dead serious, and I couldn't really hide anymore. It was my last chance to make sure things went down smoothly. So I answered with complete honesty.

- "When I looked at her medical chart, it didn't make any sense. The medication that they gave her should have been helping, but I couldn't figure out what was making her so angry. So, I went to see her. The moment I walked into her room, I saw it. For three seconds... She didn't know who I was. I had her tested that morning, and I found out that night. That she had early-onset of dementia. Most likely Alzheimer's."

- "Did you test yourself?"- Cat asked immediately. I still don't know if she felt any kind of empathy for me, but her eyes were locked into mine. - "No, you didn't. You were too scared."

- "Did you know?"- I heard Penelope asking someone I assumed was my wife. (Y/N)'s voice on the other side whispered yes as I continued looking down at my hands.

- "I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned thirty and didn't have a schizophrenic break like her, but this is somehow bigger and scarier because I can actually see it happening. All the memories that we used to share are just dying. I can't stop it. I can't help her. All I can do is find people that I can help."

I was sharing way too much during that dinner. And all because I needed to find a way for Cat to relate to me, to make her weak, call her bluff, and lock her behind bars.

- "Is that really why you showed up tonight? To help me? Do you know how many men have told me that they wanted to help me? How do you think that worked out for them?"

I couldn't reply 'cause I all heard at that minute was JJ announcing Cat had armed the bomb, and they were all trying to find a way to get everybody out there as quick as possible. All I could do was try to gain more time.

- "You're right. You don't need my help. You don't need anyone's help. You are completely in control."- but as soon as I spoke those words I saw Morgan and Tara struggling with a woman at the bar who I could guess was Cat's partner, the bomber. And before I could react, I felt a gun against my temple, as Cat grabbed me and forced me to walk.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Watching my husband being held basically hostage by a serial killer who had a gun against his head was probably one of the scariest things I faced working with the FBI. What I hated the most that day was knowing I wasn't even in the same building with him. And there was nothing I could do to help him.

Garcia held my hand tight as we stared at the screen. Cat Adams was so tiny next to him, and yet, he couldn't do anything to defend himself but try to get in her head.

- "FBI. Everybody stay calm, please."- Morgan said from the other side of the room as he held his gun out and kept his eyes locked on Adams. The only thing that kept me sane at that moment was knowing Morgan would do anything and everything to keep my husband safe.

- "We're gonna be smart about this and talk it out. Aren't we, Cat?"- Tara asked her as she cuffed the bomber.

- "That's up to you."- Adam replied with a threatening tone.

- "Get everyone out of here."- Spencer basically begged as he stared at Morgan and Lewis in front of him. She commanded the civilian to get out quickly and she took the bomber out herself. But Morgan remained there.

- "Morgan, you, too."- Spencer added.

- "I'm not going anywhere."- a part of me sighed relieved when I heard Derek's reply. He moved closer to Cat, pointing his gun at her head the entire time.

- "Guess we're right back where we started. You and me with a gun."- I hated the way Cat looked at my husband, 'cos though I'm certain there was a part of her who knew she was already doomed, she was in fact enjoying her time with him.

- "Reid, it's time."- Morgan commanded, but Spencer shook his head.

- "No."

- "We don't have a choice. We have to do it."- Derek was serious and Cat got immediately curious.

- "Do what?"

- "Morgan, shut up."- my husband begged, but Derek didn't listen.

- "There's one thing he hasn't told you yet."

- "That's not true. He's lying. Don't listen to him!"- Spencer was scared and freaked out as Cat turned to him nearly offended.

- "What haven't you told me?!"

- "Nothing. I told you... nothing! Nothing!"

- "What don't I know?"- Cat asked Morgan and he simply answered.

- "We brought your father here."- I knew they were lying, her father wasn't there. Spencer tried to find him, but it was a dead end. So Morgan and my husband were putting out a show for her, and all I could hope for was that she fell for it.

- "Here? He's here?"- Cat was hurt and shocked. Was it because she couldn't believe we had found him? Or was it because she couldn't find him herself?

- "He's right outside."- Derek continued talking, his gun not moving from her head. - "Reid thought he needed every bargaining chip he could get."

- "Morgan, I'm begging you, don't. Don't."- Spencer begged for him to stop talking, but Morgan didn't pay attention.

- "Every bargaining chip he could get to convince you to do the right thing."

- "How is this the right thing?"- Cat asked. She was nervous, clearly the thought of being close to her father had an immediate effect on her.

- "Your father killed your mother. And there's no statute of limitations on murder, so you really need to think about your options right now. You shoot him, I will kill you. Or if you surrender, you will live to testify against your father."- Morgan showed his cards.

- "That's not good enough."

- "We can arrange it for the two of you to drive into custody together, and then you can remind him of who you are."- Cat eyes shone at those words, but Spencer argued immediately.

- "If you give her this, she wins. Don't do it."

- "Kid, I am trying to save your life. Now let me do that."- Morgan was serious. A beeping outside caught their attention. - "They're bringing him in right now."

- "You're really upset about this, aren't you?"- Cat stared at Spencer, who looked in fact affected by the whole situation, but didn't reply to her. Instead, Morgan continued talking.

- "This is what you wanted, isn't it, a chance to finally hurt the man who deserves it?"

- "They all deserve it."- Cat clarified.

- "He deserves it the most."- Morgan made his point and Adams took a minute to consider her options.

- "Only if Spencer escorts me out."- I hated the way she pronounced his name.

- "Deal."- my husband whispered, annoyed and Cat finally dropped her gun.

I swear, I let out a breath I never realized I was holding, and stared at Spencer handcuffing Cat and walking out of the restaurant. I looked at Garcia and she had tears in her eyes.

- "Hotch?"- Morgan said to the mic.

- "Yeah."

- "We are coming out."- I hugged Penelope immediately and felt her sobbing against me as Hotch moved closer to us and put a hand on her shoulder.

- "You want to go home?"- he whispered and she nodded, crying.

- "Let's get your things packed up and get a celebratory drink, ok?"- I offered her and she chuckled.

- "You can't drink, munchkin."

- "You are gonna have to drink for me, then."

Spencer called me ten minutes later. He was in the car with Morgan on their way back from the case.

- "Hey chipmunk. How are you?"

- "I'm ok. You?"

- "Just tired."- he whispered and sighed. There was a lot more going on in his head, but I knew he couldn't share it at the moment, and I was not going to push him to say anything.

- "I'm gonna drive Pen to her house."

- "Morgan's"- Garcia corrected me as she grabbed one of her bags and started walking. I quickly followed her, carrying another bag with her things. - "Savannah texted me, she has celebratory drinks for us."

- "Ok, I'm driving her to Morgan's. If you are with Derek, wanna meet there and go home?"

- "Yes, that sounds like a good plan."- neither of us said a thing for a moment. I whispered I loved him and got into the elevator with Garcia.

- "How is he?"- Pen asked when she noticed I was putting the phone back into my pocket.

- "Tired. Probably upset, she forced him to face her mother's disease in front of all of you."

- "I'm so sorry, (Y/N)."

- "Thank you. Let's focus on the good things that happened today. That psycho is finally locked and you are safe to go home one more time. I'm sure Sergio is excited to have you back"

- "I miss him. And my plants! I just can't wait to be home the entire weekend, clean the place, and enjoy my space."

- "I'm so glad you are finally going home."

- "Me too. Who is taking care of my Birdie tonight by the way?"

- "She is at my mother's. We didn't know how this was going to go, so we thought it was better to take her there and have a "nana and Birdie" sleepover. My dad was supposed to hang out with them for a while."

- "I love how they manage to co-grandparent her so well."- I chuckled at Garcia's comment and nodded.

- "Me too. I wish they were this civil when I was growing up, though."

- "Come on! at least you know they won't traumatize Birdie."

- "No, I'm guessing that's our job as parents."- I joked and walked to my car. Garcia followed me quickly, and in a few minutes, we were on our way to Morgan's.

Spencer's point of view

We got out of the car and walked to Morgan's house after a quiet drive. I had called my wife, and I could tell by the tone of her voice that she knew exactly what was going on with me. I also called Sofia to find out how Raven was doing. I was feeling somehow paranoid after that evening. I knew Cat was locked, but I couldn't shake off the thought of her hurting my family.

- "You want to come in, decompress a bit?"- Morgan asked suddenly, and stopped walking as we stood in the middle of his front yard.

- "I'm good. We are probably just gonna go home."- he nodded and stared at me, most likely trying to find the words to say what he wanted to say.

- "That was an intense case."- Morgan whispered and I chuckled. Intense was a simple way to call it. I had another dozen words that were harder than it.

- "Yeah. It's over. Network's gone."- I tried to focus on that, but I knew my friend was not going to let it go.

- "Yeah. Reid, that medical research that Savannah gave you, was that..."- and I simply nodded.

- "Yeah."

- "You are gonna get yourself tested, aren't you?"

- "One of the data points that her research told me about was age. I'm too young to display the chromosomal signs, so I'm just gonna have to learn to live not knowing."

I could tell Morgan wanted to tell me everything was going to be ok, but he didn't get a chance, because the front door of his house opened and one very drunk Garcia walked out, followed by (Y/N) and Savannah.

- "Oh, my God!"- Garcia opened her arms and stumbled all the way to our side in her huge heels.

- "Oh, hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. What is happening right now?"- Morgan questioned her, surprised to find her in such a state so quickly.

- "You're what's going on. Right now is what's."- Garcia looked at me and I couldn't help but start chuckling- "You are here. Do you know what's happening right now? It is, it is done. The Dirty Dozen is done! Yes, done!

I'm in it!"

- "How much did she have?"- Morgan asked his girlfriend as I felt my wife wrapping her arms around me in silence. I hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head as I heard her sighing. She was my home and my peace, and I was finally happy 'cause I was with her.

- "She started out with Jaeger."- Savannah explained and Morgan wide opened his eyes, shocked,

- "Jaeger?! Ok...."- Derek chuckled and stared at Garcia, who hugged him and repeated over and over how much she loved him until she saw me one more time.

- "And you! I love you so much! You two make such beautiful babies!!"- I heard my wife giggling as Garcia turned to Savannah and continued spreading her love. - "And you, I should be jealous of you because you're so hot. But I'm not. I'm not. I promise you I'm not. I'm not. I promise. No, I'm not"- Pen looked at us and tried to convince us all. - "'Cause you know what? All I feel in here is love. I just... I am feeling, I'm full of love. So much love. I'm wearing too many clothes."

- "Shit! Garcia, don't get naked!"- my wife argued immediately as Penelope started walking back into the house, trying to take off her sweater.

- "I got this!"- Savannah announced as she quickly followed Garcia back into the house.

- "I'm gonna get my things."- (Y/N) whispered and kissed my cheek.

- "You sure you don't want to reconsider?"- Morgan joked as she pointed inside the house and I just laughed.

- "I think we are ok. (Y/N) should get some rest and I really just want to go home."- there was a pause as I looked inside and saw my wife hugging Garcia one more time, as Savannah held a bottle of water, probably trying to convince Garcia to drink it.

- "Hey, kid."- Morgan said and looked at me- "Can I tell you something?"

- "Yeah."- but instead, he just took a step closer and hugged me. - "I just, uh..."

- "Yeah."- I whispered and nodded.

- "You know?"

- "I know. I know."- I hugged him back and felt the tears falling from my eyes. I know it was hard dealing with feelings sometimes, so it felt good to know Morgan and I both knew how much we meant to each other.

- "Good. Because I mean it."- he tapped on my back a few times and let me go, but kept his eyes on me.- "I'll see you Monday."

(Y/N) stared at the scene from the porch and waited until Morgan started walking to the house to walk toward me. She opened her arms and hugged him as well, kissing his cheek. I always assumed she thanked him for taking care of me. And I always felt he had my back. He was my brother. Always had and always will be.

- "Come on, honey. Let's go home."- my wife whispered and held my hand. And I meant it when I said she was my home.   

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[see-arcane]

Blood of My Blood: The Law's Delay

Shout out to @ibrithir-was-here for putting up with my never-ending goal of overfilling the glorious Blood of My Blood AU with my ramblings and extra shout out to @everchangingfungusthoughts and @animate-mush for tripping me down the slope of Writing Another Text Brick. Specifically via this whole thing.

Summary: Jonathan Harker, now fifteen years deep into his life at Castle Dracula, finds himself the unwilling guest of yet another frightful host and his company. Talk and violence and time tick by.

The sun sinks low.

The dead travel fast.

And a vital Lesson is taught regarding the Law of the land.

Warnings for graphic violence, suicide, and murder.

Jonathan’s head ached.

Partly from the agonized spot at the back of his skull where the cudgel had struck. Mostly from the state of his current company.

They were nomads, he knew, but not Dracula’s men. This lot were too fresh for that. In fact, some wore tailoring that the locals weren’t accustomed to apart from tourists and the occasional city dweller passing through. He wouldn’t bet money on how many were ‘donated’ from past victims and how many were afforded through helping themselves to said victims’ purses and personal cheques. They were a dapper group, whichever the case.

From what he picked up while feigning unconsciousness, there was someone missing from their assembly. Someone’s…paramour? Wife? A young woman close to the presumed leader. Some grousing about superstitious idiots. Counter-grousing about precaution and history and how somebody’s cousin’s friend was slaughtered by the ‘superstitions.’ A third sect was grumbling about how thin Jonathan’s pockets were for a supposed noble, monster or not.

“A half-full purse and a few strips of dried pork don’t particularly line up with your theory, Jacob.”

“Props, idiot. Would some common huntsman be wearing what he wears? Would he have these?”

Jonathan heard the heavy jingle of his set of the castle’s keys. They had taken the ring of them from its chain among a handful of other lightweight treasures. All that and his wedding ring. That would cost them.

“Oh, yes. Of course. Because all the revenants who run a swatch of the Carpathians’ government are surely wandering around with frightful things like jerky and house keys.”

“Are you blind? Do these look like house keys? Half of them look older than the mountains!”

“Well, perhaps that is the ‘prop’ of his property, eh? A fancy set of keys made to look old. They certainly haven’t any rust. It wouldn’t be a terrible gimmick these days. Everyone is a fiend for the local bogeyman or a good haunting. I would do tours with my own castle, dribble a little red sauce on my lip, charge a fee for the thrill and the courtesy of not killing anyone on the way out.”

“You talk like it’s a joke. This, when I was raised in these godforsaken crags, and my own neighbor lost their newborn and its mother in the same night! The father blew his brains out when he found what was left of them in the forest. His forest.” The words were hissed in Jonathan’s direction. “God! If we had known how easy it was to take him by daylight!”

There was a snort. The leader’s voice. Sour.

“You say ‘we’ like you weren’t still in nappies, Jake. Like the castle in question isn’t a fortress on a cliff in the dead center of the mountains, all covered with wolves and your frightful bloodsuckers. What would Mama and Papa do if they knew better back then? March all the way up with the neighborhood and hope they made it in time before sunset? That’s assuming the advised tools of the trade actually mean anything against the bastard in question. If he’s as old as legends claim, throwing himself through a hundred wars’ meat grinders with his head and heart and all his other giblets getting minced, with him still standing after it, who’s to say an axe and stake are enough?”

A kick was delivered to the chair Jonathan sat bound to.

“Assuming this piece of work is said bastard.” Spoken with equal parts resignation and frustration. “I’ll grant he looked a bit off in broad daylight. Sure as hell would pass for a cadaver. But if this is the man who had your slovenly little villages soiling themselves after dark, I’m not impressed.”

Snickers from most of the room. A few grimmer sounds from the believers.

“If you don’t believe us, then—,”

“I believe in precaution, Jake. There are strange things in the world. If we want to believe that talking pile of dust, Vordenberg, who I’ll admit was a museum exhibit in his own right, we had us a near miss back in Gratz. So, fine. We finish this in the fashion of the locals. We can even set the pieces on fire if it makes you happy. Not the point. The point is—,”

A hand caught in Jonathan’s hair and wrenched his bowed head up, making the back of his skull throb anew.

“—we know Katrina was seen with you last, you ghoul.”

Jonathan opened his eyes. It had a noticeably sobering effect on much of the room. His host even eased his hold enough to stop trying to rip Jonathan’s hair out. A glance was spared for the assembled party. Easier now that he wasn’t doing it through his lashes. They really were a well-dressed bunch. One of them even wore the silver watch taken from Jonathan’s pocket quite well, though it clashed somewhat with the dagger he was fiddling with. He’d sprung for a handle with a gold hilt.

“Well?” He received a last yank before the man flung his head against the back of the chair. “Where is she?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name. Could you describe her?”

“Oh, I doubt if she would give her real one out to anyone. But we know you know her, Count.”

Jonathan felt the headache blossoming into a migraine.

“Count?”

“Dracula,” the one called Jacob grated out. He stood close to the table with his hand near the aforementioned tools of the trade. A wood axe. A sharpened garden stake and a sledgehammer. Matches. But he, like the rest of his friends, was content to leave his other hand resting on the pistol at his hip. “Don’t think you can throw your word games around here, you leech. You are not boyar here. You are not even a monster by daylight. Just a man—,”

“A man I am talking to, Jake,” from the leader. He turned back to Jonathan. “You see we have some bias in the retinue. Now, Jake and his cadre believe you are, in fact, the same awful old man who likely played out his Báthory fantasies by killing off a few local rustics for kicks once upon a time. Same white hair, same carcass complexion, and some properly unhealthy-looking windows of the soul. As an aside, you have the same body heat as a slab from the butcher. If you had a chance of living beyond today, I might have recommended you see a doctor about your circulation.

“Because I, like the bulk of the room, am of the belief that you are Count Dracula in the sense that the original Count and some Countess loved each other very much and managed to squat your malformed self out into the world before croaking. And, before departing, father dearest passed on the family tradition of idly killing off whoever was convenient as a little hobby. Am I near enough?”

Jonathan said nothing. Chiefly because he was fighting a wave of nausea, but also because it allowed him to keep his gaze steady. The westward window was visible over his host’s shoulder.

“I asked you a question.”

“I will answer if you tell me how you possibly concluded that a middle-aged man walking in the woods was a nobleman.”

To his surprise, the man revealed his evidence: the tarnished gold clasp of a dragon sitting against a garnet setting. This would also cost them.

“Hard to imagine the average hiker idling around in that corner of the wilds with this particular emblem on his coat.”

“That’s true,” Jonathan nodded. “I am not a hiker or a hunter any more than I’m a count. I am only the castle’s retainer.”

“Ah, well. That’s different. We are men of the people, sir, and we take pride in doing our fellow servile class the courtesy of a quick death. It’s only the aristos and nouveau riche who get the extra effort. Them and bleached out old bastards who go around taking what’s ours. What’s mine.” Jonathan watched the man slide a handsome pearl-handled blade from his pocket. It had a very fine edge. “Case in point, a certain young lady, of the flaxen and doe-eyed variety, being spotted in town with an older man of very unique description, not two days ago. Who she left with in his goddamn caleche.”

The blade came down in a gleaming arc. It sank cleanly into Jonathan’s left shoulder. Jonathan screamed at this and at the blade being flicked out. The steel was wiped clean on his sleeve.

“It should go without saying,” the leader said over Jonathan’s noise, steadily dwindling into hard breaths behind his teeth, “that the locals have a few choice theories about just who and what the man driving those horses is. Human? Dead? Dracula or one of his cohorts? Anyone who’d know for certain is either underground or a living antique themselves. Oh. But they did point out you seemed polite enough, according to most. Not someone anyone is eager to shake hands with, but fair. If you are the old devil of before, the younger generation are relieved you’ve gone mellow with the new century. Well done on the new leaf.”

“They were lying,” Jacob intoned, the picture of exasperation. “We all used to lie about him! He had eyes and ears everywhere! You didn’t mention him aloud unless you wanted to wake up to your child missing or you yourself being drunk dry or taken apart! I’m telling you, Katrina is already gone or worse!” His hand clutched eagerly at the whittled garden stake. “Let us be done with this, Anthony.” 

Anthony gave his blade another cleaning swipe. He opened his mouth—

“The stake is wrong.”

—and closed it. He and the others peered down at Jonathan as he righted himself against the chair. The migraine was marching in circles around his head now, lighting fireworks and banging pans. At least his shoulder was a small distraction.

“Say again?”

“The stake. You haven’t finished the end of it. If you don’t burn the point down, harden it, the wood will just splinter if you don’t get it in one blow. One of you took the flint lighter from my coat, yes? Use that and save yourself the matches.”

The room looked owlishly at him. Jacob and his small band especially. Awkwardly, one of the latter fished out the stolen lighter and began cooking the point with its steady flame.

“See that? He’s already feeling accommodating.” Anthony clapped his palm with heavy chumminess against the wounded shoulder. Jonathan winced appropriately, stealing another squinting glance at the window. “Care to keep in this giving mood, or would you like me to even things out?” The blade pointed airily at Jonathan’s right shoulder.

“No need. I said before, I do not know anyone named Katrina. But I did give a ride to a young woman two days ago. Not ‘flaxen,’ though. Her hair was red.”

Anthony abruptly straightened. The blade twisted and fidgeted in his fingers.

“Red,” under Anthony’s breath. His brow furrowed. “She took the wig too?” There was a low murmur from the less vampirically-invested portion of the group, of that specific tone that declares ‘I told you so’ by vowels alone. Anthony whirled on these members like a viper. Several mouths snapped shut. “Did you lot have something you wished to share? Hmm? I’m all ears.”

Interest increased in the state of each other’s shoes, the floor, the lovely view of the mountains, and the progress of the stake. It was now neatly blackened and free of loose slivers. Jacob stood by with it, toying with it as Anthony had his knife. He kept trying and failing to meet Jonathan���s gaze.

“Ah,” Anthony grinned mirthlessly, “that’s what I thought you said.” The blade flashed. “Now, Count, Retainer, Whoever or Whatever, while you are being forthcoming, is she alive or dead? I confess I might be just as happy with one or the other at this point, so no need to fret over a lie.”

“She was alive the last time I saw her. I dropped her off outside Bistritz,” Jonathan said, clearly recalling turning the horses toward Bukovina. He winced again as Anthony laid a hand on the bleeding shoulder, driving his thumb against the wound as he leaned.

“And? How did the bitch pay for her ride? Did you introduce her to necrophilia or did she just throw my money at you?”

“Neither. I am a married man and you can tell I had no bank vault in my pockets. In any case, I must assume whatever she took from you was fair recompense.” Jonathan felt a shift come through him. The old cold tilt that made him lean three-quarters of the way out of humanity and into something else. Whatever it was that lit his eyes and froze the air around him. That made the entire room shift an unconscious inch back. “Considering the state of her face.”

Anthony’s own countenance squirmed between aggravation, anger, and a surreal flash of embarrassment. As if leaving the girl’s face mottled with patches in shades of plum and charcoal was the equivalent of friends overhearing a marital spat in the next room. The man’s lip curled, making the well-trimmed whiskers twitch.

“Do forgive me if my decorum isn’t up to your standards, sir. I tend to get a touch irate when the thankless sow I’ve been bedding not only comes within inches of blowing our cover over some brat who went and poked his head out at the wrong time, but has the gall to try and resign after a few threadbare months. As if I didn’t scrape the little strumpet out of the gutter with my own hands.” A storm roiled in the man’s face. “Had a whole life of gold ahead of her, getting to play out her idiot actress dreams, and she thanks us by taking off with three hotels’ worth of work. Over a goddamn toddler. But that is the way with women, isn’t it? Always falling apart over a babe.”

“Men as well, in my experience,” Jonathan hummed. His line of sight drifted back to Jacob, whose attention was now firmly split between Jonathan and the view from the west window. Even halfway through spring, the sunsets did still tend to rush in the mountains. Shadows were already starting to stretch.

“Personal experience?” Anthony asked with an appraising glance that saw value in the negatives with Jonathan’s mien. “Is there a little Dracula pup crawling around nursing on the countryside?”

“Oh, no. He’s grown out of crawling. Apart from roaming along the castle walls, when he wants to surprise me. There’s no getting away with it with his mother.” Jonathan swallowed a bitter lump, knowing it had to be heard aloud, “Or his father.” Jacob was looking at him now. This time Jonathan held his eyes as they grew an increment wider. A slight dew of sweat had formed on the young man’s brow. “I only know where they are half the time. But they can always find me.”

Anthony barked an acidic note that tried to be a laugh.

“Is this the part where you tell us you’ll be missed? That there’s some cavalry who will come seeking vengeance? Please spare yourself the storytelling. If you were anything other than a relic living off a skeleton staff you wouldn’t be driving your own horses or puttering around by your lonesome. Really, what we’re doing here is a public good. What’s the loss of one more parasite riding into the twilight of peerage’s relevance?”

“Regrettably, he has thought ahead on that,” Jonathan admitted. “The gold he’s already sitting on is kept partly for emergency seed money, but mostly as a memento. He’s been on top of the capitalistic pulse since 1652 going by the oldest records. Given another decade, I believe he’ll be a magnate in a dozen industries from here to the United Kingdom.” A genuine moue puckered his face. “He calls it investing in the live-stock. No, I didn’t think it was funny either.”

This he addressed to Jacob.

Jacob, who had to set the stake down because his hand was shaking.

Jacob, who had been keeping watch of him and the window and seen how blandly Jonathan greeted the approaching dusk.

Jacob, who had finally taken a closer look at what Jonathan wore under his coat. His coat, worn because he was always cold—a chill that he truly felt. Covering an ensemble of boots, long sleeves, and a high collar. In mid-April. 

“…You still have time,” Jonathan told him gently. “If you had your childhood here, you know there’s time. You still wear your crucifix, yes?” Jacob flicked his gaze up to Jonathan’s. His whole face seemed to shine with perspiration. He did not know what was wrong yet, what piece was missing, but he scented something. “Do you? Any of you?”

Jacob nodded jerkily. The men behind him did likewise. Some fidgeted at their shirts.

“That’s good. It sickens them, did you know? Stings them away from the throat.” Jonathan smiled for him. A sad curl. “Hold it out before you if you like.” He tipped up his chin. Just above the shirt collar was a glimpse of sickish color against the maggot-white skin. Something worse than a bruise. “You can check. Or ask one of your friends. But it does help to know for certain. To have it confirmed.” The smile grew worse in its apology. “There have been no vampire attacks in Transylvania for the past fifteen years. The youngest around here take it all as local legends. Parents’ and grandparents’ fairy tales. Because they grew up without knowing what you do. Without realizing why people stopped disappearing after dark when Count Dracula still rules here. When there are still sharp mouths to feed up in his mountains.”

Jacob gawped openly now. He looked strangely like the boy he might have been fifteen years ago, hearing his neighbors whisper and moan about the latest loss in the night. Fifteen years ago, when a foolish young Englishman had come to Castle Dracula, and everyone had known. No one had seen him again…supposing one belonged to a family who had moved away at last, daring their monstrous master’s ire to save their son.

“Oh, for God’s sake, what is this? Are we playing theatre now?” Anthony and his handful of fellow eye-rollers looked between Jonathan and Jacob as if expecting to spot some invisible party holding up script cards for them. “Jake, if you want to play at slaying the vampire, you are welcome to it. Get your stick and your hammer and have at it. Erik, take the axe.” He waved his blade like an impatient conductor with his baton. “Well?”

Jacob moved forward without the stake. His crucifix was held out as far as the cord would allow.

Then he hooked Jonathan’s shirt collar and pulled it open.

Jonathan hadn’t been able to get a good look at the full state of himself in some while. Occasionally he might steal a glance in a mirror for sale or a clean shop window in town. There was rarely anything good to see as far as his development went. Age was not weathering him the way it would an ordinary man. What should have become the easy creasing of crow’s feet and smile lines had given way to something sunken and grey. More than a few children had come to nickname him ‘Herr Geist’ when he passed through. On one occasion, he’d been approached by an American claiming to be a talent scout for a circus who thought Jonathan could easily bill as, The Walking Corpse.

But that was all just the effect of his face. He hadn’t seen his throat or a clear view of his shoulders in years; the real estate with the greatest number of visits for fifteen years. It had to be at least twice as unpleasant a sight as his forearms, pocked by only one hungry mouth’s nursing. To judge by the shudder of revulsion that jolted the entire room back on its heels, his neck was apparently quite the visual.

To judge by Jacob’s expression, the discolored map of ruined skin and old punctures was his own obituary in all capitals. Nor was it a very peaceful end it spelled out. His eyes rolled up to Jonathan’s like wet marbles. Jonathan could no longer maintain his smile, however somber. There was only condolence in the look.

“I told you. I am Castle Dracula’s retainer. At least, in the sense of a retaining wall. I have played the role of its inhabitants’ personal bloodletting pantry for a quarter of a century. Which would be cause enough to worry. But I am also a married man and that is worse.”

Jacob wobbled on his feet like a sapling in a high breeze. He almost fell over with a cry when the first thunderclap boomed over the cabin’s roof. A horrified look shot to the westward window. Sunset was less than a jagged slit across the mountaintops, already erased in the smear of a rushing storm. Lightning drew livid eyes in the clouds.

“I am sorry. You might have had a chance if you hadn’t been cautious,” Jonathan went on. “There would have been a coin toss if you had simply shot me dead in the forest. I fear I am testing everyone’s patience in that household by keeping to my contract against turning until the twenty-year mark. Special occasion and all that. But if you had gone with a bullet or a slit throat, that would mean that I would be undead by sundown. You would still be slain for trespassing on private property,” he gestured to himself as best he could with his bound hands, “but it would have been tidier. They might even be grateful for ripping off the plaster and booting me over the threshold. A mere snapped neck apiece.  

“Unfortunately, I saw your tools of the trade. I heard your plans for ‘destroying the vampire,’ or the madman playing pretend as such. Heart staked, head removed, burn the body. All very thorough. But because I saw and heard these things, they saw and heard these things. Just as they know your faces now.”

Thunder snarled again. An explosive sound joined with a noon-bright flicker of lightning. Wolves sang a violent song. Close.

Jacob’s friends within the gang were talking in frantic tones to each other. The rationalists of Anthony’s side of the room seemed a touch less comfortable where they stood, grasping at their holsters. Anthony himself looked as if he was waiting to wake from a particularly confusing dream.

Jacob’s eyes were running. Pleading. A man only five short years past being a boy.

Jonathan still could not hold a smile for him, but he spoke in the tone he had for Quincey the time he’d came across a bat with a half-broken neck in the forest. Wings smashed, head cracked open, it had been alive in the worst way. Quincey had been thirteen then, considering himself practically a skip away from adulthood. He had still gone to his Papa, eyes dewy with blood trying not to spill, asking please…please…

Jonathan thought back to how his son had hidden in his coat sleeve while he ended the creature’s pain with a brisk twist.

It was quick, you see? It won’t hurt anymore now, shh, it’s alright, son.

“It’s alright,” he said in the present. “You still have time.” Not much. A few minutes at most. But still, “You’ll be safe from it. From all of it.”

Jacob nodded with a twitch. A puppet on a caught string. His hand trembled as it held up the crucifix again.

“…May I keep this? After?” Jonathan nodded. “Thank you.”

Jacob kissed the Cross and tucked it under his shirt.

“Jake, I swear to God, if you don’t drop this act, I will—,”

Bang.

The sound was almost lost in another thunderclap. Not so for the sound of Jacob’s corpse hitting the floor, the new tunnel in his head oozing a scarlet pond out from under his skull. There was a moment of quiet.

Then the wolves bayed again.

The men bayed too. Curses and questions of equal inanity whirled around the room.

Bang.

The sound of Anthony’s own pistol firing a hole through the ceiling.

“Shut. Up. Every one of you, bite your idiot tongues.” The barrel swung to point at Jonathan’s temple. “He says he has people on the way? He says they’re vampires or werewolves or the Four Horsemen a-riding? Then it would perhaps behoove us to think rather than squeal like women over this,” his shoe struck Jacob’s corpse, “fool’s choice of exit. Coward.” He snapped his fingers at the room. “Come on! Block the windows, set up arms! Move!”

And so they moved. Some men scrambled and shouldered into each other trying to cover the windows. Chairs were broken into pieces for stakes. Guns were unpacked and loaded. Erik held the axe as if his hands were welded to it. Anthony, meanwhile, took one of the unbroken chairs for himself and perched at Jonathan’s side. Something between supreme irritation and a baffled sort of wonder shaped his face.

“I do have to give you credit if this is all improvisation on your part. You should have been booked at the Grand Guignol instead of rotting up here.”

Jonathan watched Erik begin to pace, gripping the axe as though it doubled for a shield.

“That or one of those hypnotist acts. Jake was always a nervous one. An easy mark, ironically enough.”

Jonathan’s peripheral caught on Erik’s figure as he came to a stop by the door. There was no peephole to spy through, yet he inclined his head toward it. His ear was cocked as if listening for something under the thunder and wolves.

“But supposing this amounts to something more than an act, I admit I’m curious to see what these things are supposed to be like outside the pulp on the bookshelves or clogging up the stage. Everyone has their opinion on them these days.”

Erik first frowned, then nodded at the bolted door. The anxious creases of his face began to smooth. A smile tugged his lips up as the axe lowered.

“Are they the same kind of horror show as you?”

“Usually quite the opposite,” Jonathan allowed. “But that is by choice. They make some rather impressive exceptions when the occasion calls for it.”

Erik set the axe down. His freed hands moved the wooden bolt aside and reached for the key on its hook. This didn’t go unnoticed. The nearest man, one of Jacob’s friends, jolted toward him.

“Erik, what the hell are you doing?”

“Didn’t you hear her?” Erik spoke over him in a dreaming lilt. “The girl outside. Lovely voice.” He turned the key in the lock. “She and her brother got lost in the storm.” He turned the knob. “Wouldn’t be right to leave them out th—,”

Bang.

Erik dropped like a felled tree. Jacob’s friend whirled on the rest of the room, his gun and free hand up. He had his crucifix worn outside his shirt now.

“I had to! You know I had to! Jacob and old Vordenberg laid it out, didn’t they? You invite the things in and it’s all over!” He pointed at the door with the new stain on its timber. “One of them is out there right now, trying to worm into our heads, so we’ll let it over the threshold.”

As every eye nailed itself to the man and the door and the second corpse within five minutes, no one paid attention to the fireplace. They had not lit it, having opted solely for lamps. Chimney smoke would give away their location to anyone happening by the area.

Only Jonathan stared at the open stone mouth of the hearth. Watching what crawled out. Watching it watch him.

Anthony swatted Jonathan in his bad shoulder. He looked up and realized he’d been asked a question.

“Pardon?”

“Is he. Telling. The truth. Or did Erik lose his brains over nothing?”

“A vampire cannot cross the threshold of someone’s home without invitation. I think, at a stretch, you could call this temporary base of yours ‘home.’ Strict definition is tricky for travelers. But if you declare this place yours—,”

“We do,” insisted half the room in unison.

“We do,” Anthony echoed, somewhat dryly. “Our lovely domicile, this. And we are strictly against welcoming any visitors tonight.”

“Understandable. But there’s still the trouble of this afternoon. It’s hard to be more insistent about an invitation than resorting to abduction.”

“And? What of it?”

The fireplace continued to purge its contents out and out and out. Cooling the room like a thin and steady gust. Heads finally began to turn as gooseflesh spread and the sight became unignorable: A thick mist had been pouring into the room since Erik’s brains splattered on the door.

“You thought I was Count Dracula. Whether I was him or not, he was the man you wanted here.” Jonathan looked Anthony in the eye. He was not surprised at what he found there as it squirmed and sweated. “I’m afraid you invited him in two hours ago.”

The lamps guttered. One snuffed. Then its neighbor. A third, a fourth. Voices raised in tandem with the weapons.

“Light them!” came the universal cry. “Turn them back up, come on!”

But the room blackened and blackened until it came down to one canny fellow who’d dived for a lantern. The same man who’d pocketed the flint lighter. He lit the lantern and set it shakily on the table, its glow seemingly safer than the lamps’. The lighter was almost as bright in his hand, making a spotlight for himself in the ruddy gloom.

“What? What is it?”

Every head was turned to face him. Every eye wide enough to show its whites, like the stares of startled horses. The man opened his mouth to utter a third query—and stopped.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold. Far colder than the man he’d taken the lighter from. Its fingers ended in claws.

Above his head, the firelight caught on what might charitably be called a grin. It was, in fact, the default state of Count Dracula’s jaw in this shape. A medley of the wolf and the bat and the nightmares that are born when children’s imaginations first start to sketch the things that will eat them in the dark.

Jonathan wished he could have closed his eyes for all that followed. He did try. But there was an implicit order sunk into his mind that demanded he watch. Had this been a decade ago, this may have been for the sake of an object lesson.

This is what I can do. This is what I would have done to your little hunting party at the right hour, with your guard down for an instant. This is what I will do to any sheltering cattle you try to run away to with wife and child. Watch, my friend. Watch.

But that was practically a lifetime past. They were coming up on a mere five years until the wait was over and his free will and the final fig leaf of humanity was forfeit. Which suggested that he was a captive audience solely for the fact that an audience was desired. There was some artistry to it all, in a medieval sense. Some of the acts performed with the makeshift stakes and the barrels of guns and certain repurposed bones reminded Jonathan of old woodcuts left out for him to see once upon a time, back in that first summer alone with the castle’s Master.  

By the time one of the men died choking on his own severed arm, the rest of the lot stopped shooting and herded themselves to the door, desperate. To their relief, there was no vampire at the threshold. They fled.

A heartbeat passed before the screaming began anew. Gunfire mingled with it. The screaming dwindled down and down, the choir thinning to a single shriek that ended on a terrible sound. Wet and crunching. Wolves were heard soon after.

Anthony had not moved from his position behind Jonathan’s chair. He’d resumed his grip on his hair, this time holding his blade just below the Adam’s apple.

“If you don’t have a head,” Anthony panted at the Count, now busy picking gristle from the spades of his nails, “you can’t be undead. The plays make a lot of fuss about staking the heart, but this?” He tugged Jonathan’s head back another inch and pressed the blade’s edge until the skin broke. “I figure it’s a fair bit more vital. I am a practiced man at my profession and quick when I need to be. You want him in one piece instead of two, you leak yourself out the door, call off your pets, and I’ll send him on his way come sunrise.” Though he couldn’t see him, Jonathan was certain the man was trying to smile. “If you’re amenable, perhaps we can even get a silver lining out of this whole thing.”

Dracula sucked a piece of sinew out of his thumbnail.

“I am accustomed to getting my hands dirty. While I’ve been in the habit of leading assorted hapless dregs around, I can easily see myself following someone worth respect. Your friend here indicated he’s on the edge of retirement anyway, and I imagine you could do with someone to step into the role. Or add to the ranks.”

Dracula busied himself with scanning the floor. He plucked up the silver watch still chained to a torso that was twisted like a wrung washcloth. A scowl was spared upon retrieving the key ring from a puddle of a head. Then the pouch containing Jonathan’s allowance. He deposited each bit of treasure found on the table. The last thing he discovered was Jonathan’s wedding ring. He seemed to ponder flicking it aside, but saw Jonathan watching. The ring was dropped in the pile the way one might discard a clump of dirt.

“Well?” from Anthony. “Do you talk or not?”

“I do,” from the Count. “Though not usually to vermin. Especially ones who raid my pantry.”

“Honest mistake on our part. I hadn’t realized you were the one-in-a-thousand legend that isn’t just the fumes of an invented ghost story.”

“I see.” Dracula bent and retrieved the stake that had its point burned. It left the holster of a man’s sternum with a damp sound. “And this too was a mistake?”

“Just trying to placate the skittish sorts in the party. You saw how Jake was.”

“I did.” The Count tapped the stake’s point against his chin, pondering. “In fact, I think I recall a face like his. A sailor I met once. He took to the sea, having no bullet in reach.” He leveled the stake at Anthony’s head. “You called him a coward for this, yes?”

“Am I wrong?”

“There is a fine line between cowardice and wisdom,” Dracula shrugged. “It moves more than you would think. Little Jacob was wise tonight, if sadly mistaken in his target. He was not the first of his type. Likely not the last. The same goes for you, vermin. You, who squeak and chitter about preying upon the predator, and then try to sell yourself to the cat.” Though much of his face had reset to a human shape, the Count’s teeth remained a bristling forest of white needles when he grinned. “I have had this land in my jaws for half a millennium. I have not gone a single century without your like slinking underfoot, thinking to kiss my cape and offer a tithe of others’ throats to win my favor. My power.”

“Way of the world, isn’t it? Strong bows to stronger. What makes this cadaver,” another jerk on Jonathan’s hair, another throb in his skull, “so special? Better resumé? Seasoned arteries?”

“A number of things.” Another shrug, a twirl of the stake like a toy. “He does so hate to hear it anymore. It has been so long since any kind of praise heartened him and age has made him shy. But he cannot shush me, so I can say he does far more than bleed, be it himself or his victims of old. He certainly has a more impressive history than robbing and gutting tourists for a living, and so is far more attuned to the Law of this land than any other. Not the yapping dogs of mortal authorities. Not your jailor or judge or bureaucrat. Not even those of the sciences, such as they are.”

Thunder cracked and lightning danced. The Count’s eyes burned brighter than the lantern.

“He knows that I am Law in these mountains. That my will, my word, and my want order all that is here. He knows that there is no escaping consequence for trespassing upon what is mine. But.” The Count clapped the stake into his open palm with the joviality of a cruel teacher with his yardstick. “Beyond all this, he is something which guarantees his value over yours or any other’s. He warned you himself.” The jagged grin turned almost saccharine. “He is a married man. And you have kept him out far too late for his spouses’ liking.”  

Anthony shifted behind the chair. The grip on Jonathan’s hair shuddered a moment as if suddenly repulsed to be touching it.

“God. Even the monsters are in on that depravity up here?”

“Depravity is a pastime of mine. But I am not so low as to debase myself by touching filth like yours.” So saying, the Count raised both hands in mock surrender. “I shall not waste my time or teeth on you.”

“Fine. Fine, you say that and I can believe you. Once you’re out the door.”  

The door, still open.

The door, which Anthony had not dared to look at for fear of taking eyes off the Count.

The door, full of mist.

“Ah, but I cannot go yet. There is a show I have been so looking forward to. You mentioned the Grand Guignol. Such a promising establishment! I plan to see it in person some night. But for now, we must content ourselves with your meager scene.”

Anthony opened his mouth to ask something. Say something. Maybe he was just drawing breath. Whatever the reason, his mouth froze in a voiceless O of epiphany.

There was a hand on his shoulder. Cold.

It distracted him from the other, decorated with its simple gold band, locking around the man’s forearm; the one responsible for holding the blade.

Snap.

Anthony’s mouth dropped open wider, belting a screech that left Jonathan’s ears ringing. Then the man was torn away from the back of the chair and all the noise of him was pinned and shrilling on the floor. Laced over the ensuing sounds of his dismantling, both vocal and visceral, was a voice that threaded through the mind more than the ear:

He cut you. Twice he cut you.

“I’ll be fine, Mina.” Said because there was concern in the statement. There was. But, more pertinently, there was the accusation. The condemnation. The citing of the crime.

He cut you. He meant to kill you. He meant to unmake you out of reach forever.

Anthony made a new and piercing noise. The kind just an octave short of a dog whistle. Jonathan winced.

“And he failed to. It’s alright, Darling.”

“Hardly,” from the Count, now turning Anthony’s abandoned seat around to face the slaughter. “You are too soft as always, my friend. Even when it comes to a rightful culling. Or do you think they deserved to live after their crimes?”

“I think this was excessive.” Jonathan withheld a sigh as Dracula hooked the back of his chair, hoisting and turning it so that his back was no longer to Mina’s work. She seemed to have an innate understanding of what could be taken apart and to what degree, the better to leave Anthony still clinging miserably to a thread of life. “And I also think I’m ready to have these off.”

He flexed his hands and feet as far as they could go against the ropes.

“Have what off?” Dracula asked as he swiped a finger into the shoulder wound. A child stealing cake icing. He clicked his tongue. “This would happen just after a feeding. All this guilt-free cuisine and your knights-errant are too full to enjoy the banquet. A pity. Have you eaten?”

“If I had my hands free, I could get my—,” Jonathan pursed his lips as Dracula brandished a bouquet of the retrieved dried pork. Deciding against waiting for the mesmer to prod him into it, he opened his mouth a crack. Bit. Chewed.

“Do you suppose the Grand Guignol has concessions? Any actual blood used in place of the stage swill?”

Jonathan swallowed. A nauseous feat, considering the piece Mina removed from Anthony in the same moment. 

“I doubt any director is so dedicated, Sir.” Anthony was growing quieter now. There wasn’t enough air in him. Jonathan could tell by the glimpse of lung through his ribs. “Does Quincey know about this?”

No. It was blocked from him. He believes we are out on business.

Crunch. Twist. Rip.

Anthony went silent and still at last. Dracula afforded this a light round of applause.

“Not wholly a lie, you will grant. Though I suspect the boy thinks it was code for a more,” the Count made a face caught between glee and disdain, “intimate excursion. Which should be an easy enough ward against any prying you fear from him. You may have made a sickening romantic of the boy, but there is never a child alive or undead who wishes to know what his parents get up to out of his sight.” The Count craned his head, squinting at what was left of Anthony. “Did you come across it?”

That depends. Where’s mine?

Mina stood with the dragon clasp in one red hand and her other held out and open. Dracula idled a moment or three longer than was necessary before the stolen wedding band was produced. Clasp and ring were thrown rather than exchanged. Jonathan had each reattached to him. Though the Count spared a curse in three different languages at finding the coat not only mangled at the shoulder, but torn where the clasp had been ripped away.

“As if they could not understand the mechanics of a brooch? You should have pinned this in his eye.”

You should have fed him the stake. Look at this.

Mina touched the nick on Jonathan’s throat.

I know you count my wound as a blessing, but I would think you’d not risk losing his voice.

“I had to stall while you cleared up the leftovers outside. I may as well have left you with the boy.”

And lost your show and your diversion.

“You—,”

“I cannot feel my feet anymore,” Jonathan announced. “And I would like to stitch and plaster myself before we head out. Whatever Quincey may think we’re up to, it will be easier to lie without me looking like I just left,” he gestured as best he could at the room, “this.”

A minor miracle came and went as there was no suggestion made that they simply lay a new bite apiece over the wounds. The ropes were cut, what was filched was returned to its owner, give or take a little scavenging of their own. Jacob and the others were left with their tokens of the Son. Outside, the wolves went on enjoying the meal Mina had left for them. Up until a titanic thunderbolt struck the cabin and sent them scrambling. The building went up like a great bonfire.

“I know, my friend, you were clearly looking forward to digging more graves. But you must admit my method is quicker and far more thorough in erasing evidence.” The nettling cadence waned. “I suggest you avoid wandering away from the castle for some time. Considering your state.”

Not while dressed in this, at the very least. It’s clear this insignia draws as much ire as it deters.

“A fluke,” the Count huffed. “Such degenerates as those are rare. The chattel know better. Besides, the folly was in drawing attention by playing Good Samaritan to the wrong victim and her maudlin pleading. Something else to keep in mind.” Jonathan tried and failed to keep his head down as the hook landed in his mind and turned his eyes up. Dead blue against burning red. “At least for as long you insist on holding to your last few years as…this.”

Jonathan bit into his last strip of the dried pork. Loudly.

“Five years. That’s all.”

“Four and a half.”

“Four and a half I mean to savor. In-between being waylaid.” The careful placidity fractured as his free hand drifted up to the back of his skull. Still aching. “I think I shall finish off the Golden Mediasch tonight.” His hand was plucked away by Mina’s own, her chilled fingers seeking out the tender place under his hair. Her fingertips felt the scabbing patch.

I should have skinned him.

“You are welcome to stroll through the fire and do so,” the Count hummed. But his smile stopped short of his eyes and his own hand swept Mina’s away to thumb at the ache. “The Mediasch is barely more than fruit juice. You will want something stronger.”

Jonathan didn’t argue. Nor did he protest when the horses of his ex-hosts were commandeered for the return to the castle. Quincey thrilled at the sight of them almost as if they had arrived riding wolves. Was this the business they went on? Tunet and Pretekár were quite new—and solid obsidian as the horses before had been—but it was good to see them gain more company. And they’d picked piebald this time!

“They’re beautiful. Do they have names yet?”

“Thought we’d leave that to you,” Jonathan managed lightly enough. Or nearly so. Quincey frowned at him, nose pricking at the smell of dried blood.

“Papa, are you alright? You—,” his eyes landed on the coat, “—what happened?”

 “Just a quick lesson from our new friends about minding their moods. I was tossed and landed in a less than opportune pile of rocks.”

Quincey scowled at that and scrutinized the stallions.

“Which one? I’m not riding him. Or petting him, even.” He considered. “At least for a month.”

“Seems a cruelty too far. I suppose I just won’t reveal the guilty party.”

“And what if I get on the wrong horse and I get tossed and land on a rock somewhere? What then?”

“Then you will get back up and be perfectly alright. Or am I misremembering the night you fell asleep on the side of the north turret and fell through half a tree on your way down?”

“Yes, well. They were fairly soft branches.” Quincey fought and lost the attempt to keep his smile up. “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“The horses weren’t the actual business, were they? You could have gotten them yourself.”

“That’s true. The horses were only picked up afterward. Quite a bargain, not counting the lumps.”

“Then what happened?”

Jonathan looked at his son. His Sweetheart, though the boy had finally started to bud into that stage that visits all adolescents, demanding a shedding of childhood names. There was a dusting of stubble barely fringing his jaw and his mother’s own whorls outgrowing the edges of his last haircut. But the eyes were still a child’s. Bright and molten as the sun at dusk.

“…There was some trouble two days ago. I aided a girl trying to leave behind some people who hurt others. Who hurt her. They had some less than scrupulous plans for the future and had already bypassed local authorities to get where they were by the time I crossed them. So I reached out for some assistance.” And, because he felt the air prickling with observation, “Your Father was very keen to educate them on the difference between the laws of other lands versus the Law of his land. And your Mum has always been of a rescuer’s bent as a rule. So.”

“So Mum and Father caught them? Together?” The sunset eyes gleamed at the prospect.  

“They did,” Jonathan nodded.

“Were they bandits?”

“Of a sort. But they won’t hurt anyone now.” Jonathan watched from the corner of his eye how the boy, so near to a young man, glowed over the notion of being a son to heroes.

He got to the tower before he felt his eyes begin to sting as sharply as his head.

[aesthetic-gamersnail]

General Thoughts and Feelings on Trolls Band Together (part 2)

The fight is a pretty interesting scene: It starts with all of the brothers just screaming at each other about their frustrations, John being too bossy and John on the other hand feeling too much pressure as being the oldest and having to take care of his 4 younger siblings. Branch says nothing and just looks at them anxiously (poor boy). When Branch says they have to practice to save Floyd, John says that he is right and they will go their separate ways anyway that, Branch looks super shocked. And John is like:' What? Did you think we'd all move in together after that?' And it just hits Branch, that this a one time thing and his brother don't want to spend more time with him or get to know him. He then says that he is leaving and John answers he should stop acting like a baby. Branch then confronts them about his struggles and their grandma's death and how he was forced to grow up and then he leaves after crumpling up the hideout plan and throwing it away. Poppy picks it up and sees it and says in realization that the bunker was for them. One of them says they didn't know and Poppy says that they didn't ask and goes after Branch.

It was pretty emotional to see, of course, but it kinda lacked a bit of an emotional impact because the brothers just did not seem to be very bothered by their grandmother's death and as I'm writing this I notice they never asked Branch why he was greyer. Also, they all never actually gave a good reason why they never came back (John checked once, ONCE, and he saw no one was there and he assumed that Branch was dead and only heard that he is alive because of the events of the World Tour) or tried to contact Branch in any way in 20 YEARS. When we later see them trapped, of course one could argue they were more concerned about Floyd or their own situation, but John only mentions from the fight that they were screaming at each other but overall no one mentions Branch or shows some kind of guilt after the fight (or anywhere later in the movie, except Clay at the end but it was also just used to make a joke about his sad book club). It just feels like they didn't really care about him, which I know is not true, but it feels like it which is just a shame. I wish we could see maybe something of that in the future, but in this area the movie is kinda lacking.

While being good, I wish the scene of Branch and Poppy talking after the fight was longer, but that is just my personal opinion

Also the newly introduced characters sometimes feel kind of flat, like I wish we could have seem more interactions between the brothers or some flashbacks because in the end of the day I don't feel any wiser about who they are as people. We just get descriptions and snippets of their personalities and that's it. I hope they will expand on that more in the future.

John is honestly a really interesting character who genuinely cares for his brothers (he came to Floyd's aid immediately after hearing he was in trouble) but just doesn't really know how to show it or to deal with his emotions. Maybe he is also someone who is scared to let people be close since he also did not expect them all to still stay in contact after the whole ordeal. (And he has a lot of angst potential) Just, you could really dive in his character

Floyd sadly also falls victim to that because we don't actually get to know him. From some heart to heart talks to Veneer and his reunion with Branch aside, he is just suffering and dying throughout the film so there isn't much we get to know about his character except that he is emotionally sensible and cares about his family

All the brothers could and should be expanded upon (for example how Clay met and coworked with Viva and Bruce meeting his wife, it would be so interesting to see)

But what we got was pretty cute, like the dynamic between Floyd and Jon, Floyd and Branch and Bruce and Clay

I sadly don't remember which word exactly Poppy said but Branch was like 'I love how you say this word' super flirty and I still thin about that (Poppy and Branch really worked so good as a team, and they were so cute throughout the movie, I love them so much)

Floyd's and Branch's reunion is super cute, because he is the first from his brothers to see Branch as a grown up and not as small child, so it is really heart warming.

I LOVED the whole chase sequence, it was candy for my eyes and my ears, really 10/10

John letting Branch take the lead was super cute actually and emotionally impactful

The rendition of 'Better Place' in the movie is godly, cannot wait to hear it again

Floyd's death was kinda ... weird? Because he dies and then he just comes back to life? Without an explanation? I thought the theory of the brothers lending him talent would be true because it made sense but nope, he just comes back from the dead, which is kind of a weird decision, but who am I to argue

Branch's and Poppy's kiss was sooooo soft and cute and it just felt so natural, like AAHHHHH

Viva accepts Branch into the family -> braids his hair (I see the logical conclusions made in Poppy's family are genetic)

The Nsync cameo was funny but it did throw me in for a loop wondering if it was canon in-universe

The fakeout proposal was really funny, but I loved how they were on the same page and not awkward at all with each other ('I have a small proposal.' '*gasp*You want me to join the band?' 'You know me so well :)')

Head canon: Veneer and Floyd become pan palls and Veneer sends him mail from prison

That are my thoughts for now, maybe I will write more in the future, if I think of more things. But yeah, genuinely a good movie and a fun experience with nice animation and good music, as previously written 8/10, I had a good time. But I really wish we either get a new movie, series or special because I really want to see more of the characters and to expand more on their personalities and dynamics

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Nyota Uhara

She's Spock's canon partner in AOS, and I get it because they're not a great couple, but she gets villianized in fic so much. They constantly make her an asshole (which totally has nothing to do with her being black /sarcasm) and abusive just for the crime of dating a man headcanoned as gay. And I mean, I think Spock is gay and her being a love interest was unnecessary but still! She's cool!

Oh my god so in the Star Trek reboot she’s Spock’s girlfriend and the fandom has no idea what to do with her??? Like she is ALWAYS either such a bitch or like the mom friend? And there is so much more to her character than that? But they always break down her character AND find a quick and easy way to break up her and Spock. I’m not even mad at that but at least treat their relationship with some weight instead of just being like ‘it never mattered’. People can love multiple people throughout the course of their lives. You know that right? Just because you loved someone before doesn’t make your new love any less special. And even headcanoning Spock as gay… you realize he doesn’t need to be attracted to Uhura for their relationship to have mattered, right? Even if he confused friendship for romantic attraction, him feeling such strong friendship and openly expressing it is so monumental for him!!! 

she's dating Spock, who people ship with Kirk, so fans have decided that it's horrible writing and "really, they're just defending her, the movies turned her into just a love interests," which is not at all true. The movies do so much more for her to the point that the fans who have only seen the movies think that the main characters are Kirk, Spock, and Uhura instead of the Kirk, Spock, McCoy of the original series. Also having a black women being shown as being desired and loved in mainstream media, particularly by one of the most popular characters of all time, is a good thing, not making her "just a love interest"

Keiko O'Brien

Certain People I Could Name insist on shipping her husband with the annoying twink doctor Julian Bashir because of the friendship they develop over the series. I maintain that O'Brien would never cheat on his wife, let alone with another man, and the response is often "they're in a polycule together!!!" which is even more out of character. Everyone please show my girl Keiko some more respect 😤

Wife of chief engineer Miles O'Brien, who is shipped with the chief medical officer, Julian Bashir. Show itself veered into misogyny regarding her and her marriage, manifesting as Miles constantly complaining about her and her encouraging him to go hang out with Julian and leave her and their daughter alone. Fandom responded to this by creating the "O'Brien polycule" including Keiko, Miles, Julian, and first officer Kira Nerys (who has another strange semi-romantic subplot with both O'Briens). Really, though, it just exists to have Julian/Miles without reckoning with Miles having to cheat to get there. I, too, was guilty of this in the past. Keiko had the potential to be a very interesting character (and started to be, early in the show) but it was never realized. She deserved better :(

keiko is a lovely lady and astrobotanist who had a whole romance with and married the more main character miles obrien but now frequently people sideline her to (semi-jokingly?) ship miles with his friend julian. she’s not the best written character and she deserved so much more from the narrative, but it still feels weird that the fan joke about her is always how much she is constantly encouraging her husband to cheat on her (which to be fair does happen a few times but not That much)

[saneijeijei]

[Marriage of convenience​]

[This is a fanfiction collaboration with @ship-ovnik​]

[ 1 / 2 ]

Penelope did not see the Crown Prince until after the wedding ceremony. All discussions about the secret agreement between the head of Eckart and the Crown Prince were conducted by without her. The Duke claimed that she didn't need to watch Marquis Ellen throw tantrums and try to out-argue everyone in the office, she would be the first victim of his anger.

Their first meeting took place at the altar. When Penelope saw him, she was thrilled by his beauty. He was handsome truly a real crown prince and descendant of the golden dragon, but soon, her delight subsided, remembering all the rumors and comments of her father, about the violent temper of a man. She hardly listened to the monotonous speeches of the aristocrats, who came up every now and then to congratulate the newlyweds. In fact, she expected the whole event to be like a day of humiliation for her as a member of the Eckart family with no noble blood. She thought that the Crown Prince would be angry and constantly talk about it, but sitting at the festive table next to him, she did not hear a single evil word in her direction. He was more interested in communicating with members of his faction and guests than constantly saying nasty things to her.

But the sooner the night came, the more nervous Penelope became. No matter how fictitious this marriage was, the Crown Prince had the right to demand to fulfill his marital duty, which she was afraid of, after everything she heard from Eckart's maids. The palace maids, dressing her, were noticeably nervous and whispered among themselves, but they did not talk to her.

The prince did not come to her chambers that night. As in the next one and through it. After the end of the marriage ceremony, the Crown Prince no longer visited her in the palace.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like this peace? None of the servants offended her or tried to annoy her. All the food was delicious and no one tried to feed her rot. On the contrary, everyone tried to please her (although I wouldn't say that, everyone just behaved like servants, and she attached too much importance to this, so the servants began to try even more to please her) and sometimes helped to brighten up the evening with socializing or stories about life in the palace. When she found out about the imperial library, Penelope began to disappear there for days, reading book after book from history to novels. One day, without noticing a stranger in the library, Penelope met her husband.

Would not say that they had a good relationship – they did not exist at all. They hardly knew each other, except that they had heard about each other from rumors. Therefore, they tried to keep distance from each other. But when Callisto returned back to the palace, he was forced to follow the rules so as not to create even more problems and rumors for his already tired head.

It all started with shared lunches and dinners, Penelope could never get up for breakfast on time, because, due to constant training, Callisto got up at dawn. Therefore, they agreed that they would have dinner and lunch together. Gradually, they began to have conversations. They avoided topics about their families and relatives, but they constantly joked about what the aristocrats were constantly gossiping about. Over time, their communication will begin turning into a more informal form when they could make fun of each other.

"There is a ball very soon and we will need to be there as members of the imperial family." "Yes, it sounds great… but.. I'm not a very good dancer, so please don't ask me to dance. "Wait, you don't know how to dance?"

Penelope lowered her gaze in embarrassment.

"I-I didn't say that I can't, I said that I don't dance well,"

Callisto grinned.

"Then maybe my wife will let me give her some dance lessons?"

If you want, I can write the third part ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[josephinevalor]

Clockwork Angel Review

By: Cassandra Clare

Clockwork Angel is amazing. What makes it so great (and probably so popular) is how engaging it is. This book was almost impossible to put down. I just wanted to keep on reading and reading it. It captured my attention and refused to let go. :D

I also loved most of the characters in it.

There were only a couple of things I didn't love about it.

Main Premise

You have shadowhunters (half angels half demons), act as a police of the supernatural world, protecting humans and themselves from supernatural threats.

From this point, there will be spoilers!!

Setting

Victorian England (1878), try her best to get the historical context well. She captures the main vibes of it well (The focus on purity and proper behavior, the place of women in society,  the dresses and the corsets, the carriages, the servants, the type of literature the characters were reading, poverty, lack of social programs, children growing up more quickly). 

The writing style doesn't match with "victorian English" but it's a necessary sacrifice to make the story easier to read.

Writing style:

It gets the job done. It doesn’t include flowery language or metaphors about the meaning of life. 

Scenes are extremely easy to follow. I could imagine exactly what’s going on at all times, almost as if I was watching a movie. There is foreshadowing but it’s done subtly enough that it doesn’t give anything away. It also includes just enough detail for you to be able to imagine everything, but not so much as to bog down the story, which ads to the fast pacing of the story. 

Characters: 

Tessa: A shapeshifter. She is a bit of a “not like other girls” trope. Plane looking, yet has both Jem and Will attracted to her. I love her assertive attitude though. Despite all of the bad things that happened to her, she is able to stand up for herself. Her parents had died, her brother turns out to be a traitor, she is held captive by the dark sisters. It would have been easy to turn her into one of those sappy victim characters that you just feel sorry for. But that’s not Tessa. She is strong. She corrects Will whenever she thinks he is wrong. She stands up to the shadowhunters when she feels like they aren’t upholding their end of the deal in terms of her brother, Nate.

Jem: He is just so nice and kind and gentle and respectful. Him being addicted to that demon drug, Yin Fen, felt so unfair. And I found it to be one of the most interesting parts of the novel.

Will: Fascinating character. Extremely contradictory. Pretends to be bad, pushes people away from himself, yet he still seems to care for people. His jokes and shenanigans also add much needed comedic relief.

Jessamine: trad wife meme. Felt a tad bit too two dimensional at times. But she did grow on me in the future novels. A bit of a mean girl and a bit manipulative. She pretends to be Tessa’s friend and is all about helping Tessa when it’s convenient but then doesn’t have Tessa’s back in arguments with other shadowhunters when it’s not.

Charlotte: She’s a boss babe. She’s in charge of running the institute. She does seem a bit too nice from time to time, although her tough side comes out when necessary. Not the best leader. She does make a good amount of mistakes. But she is also not the worst.  

Henry: incompetent trope. Too cartoony. He can't get anything right. He is really into inventing things yet every one of his inventions goes wrong. He is technically the “head” of the institute but Charlotte in reality runs the show. He did grow on me in the future novels but in this one, he was too incompetent for me to like.

Sophie - servant mundane who has "the sight". She can see shadowhunters but not a shadowhunter herself. She has this tragic backstory about the son of her previous employer slashing her face using a knife because she refused to return his advances. I wish we got to see more of her but we didn’t. She is sort of just there mostly. Doesn’t have enough of a purpose. 

Thomas and Agatha: Both are background characters. They get almost no attention. We pretty much don't know anything about them. Which would not have been a problem had Thomas and Agatha not died towards the end of the novel. Not knowing much about them made me not really care when they died.

Magnus and Camile: make an appearance. They get the job done. Work pretty well as side characters. Don’t have too much to say about them. 

POV:

Too focused on Tessa. Not a problem accept when the POV shifts. Because when it does shift, doesn’t feel natural. Feels like the POV shifts only when absolutely necessary to make the story work. 

Plot:

The beginning of a love triangle between Tessa, Jem, and Will was just so precious. I love how close the 3 of them are and how subtle it is. I love how this novel was mostly about building it up.

The scene when James and Tessa were running towards the institute to get away from the clockwork angel army while they were following them and then James collapsing due to his addiction to Yin Fen was incredible. There was so much tension in it. And it was thrilling to read it. It was almost on the edge of them not making it into the institute. Tessa (for the most part) being completely at the mercy of someone showing up to save her or James getting better. Central question: make it into the institute or not? 

The only moment I didn’t like that much was the clockwork angel (the necklace that Tessa was wearing) coming to life to protect her against the clockwork army inside the institute while everyone else was away. The scene felt kind of awkward. Tessa was hesitating way too much to be running away. And that clockwork angel was just flapping around in the air, which shouldn’t have been enough of a distraction to stop the clockwork army or Mortmain or Nate from going after her and catching up with her. Like it was enough to distract a single clockwork robot, which it did, but then Tessa just stayed there in the corner for way too long trying to decide what to do for her to have been able to reasonably get out. It felt like she escaped only due to plot armor not due to the angel.

The plot twist at the end of the story about who is the magister and Nate working for Magister was surprising. I did not see it coming. Like it made sense it was Mortmain because there were clues. But at the same time, it was still surprising due to how nervous he acted. Like when he came to report that the dark sisters were performing a ritual, I knew something was up. But I thought someone else would be responsible. He would just be working for that person. 

Tessa pretending to kill herself and Will rushing in towards her was a touching moment.

Rating: 4.5 Stars

[aquaburst3]

I'm in the process of watching Helluva Boss as research for a future writing project. Something that pisses me off about the show, other than the underdeveloped female characters, hypocritical double standards and Stolas being a uwu woobie sad boy, is how it treats Stella.

When I first starting the show, I was intrigued by the Stolas cheating subplot. I thought it would lead to some character drama. But, nope. Turns out that Stella is just a one dimensional bitch, who is abusive to Stolas and is as dumb as a brick. Or in other words, she's the embodiment of that one old fanfic trope where a female character is transformed in an irredeemable bitch just to push the main mlm ship together. Like...what?

I would've been fine with Stella being an angry and abusive bitch under normal circumstances. Women can be abusers just like men in real life. Female villains like that can not only work, but be fantastic in their own right. The Owl House pulled that off with Odelia Blight, and I love her as a minor antagonist in that series.

However, in this case, Stella's only evil because it Stolas more of an angsty backstory and lets him off the hook for what he did, making it seem justified. Since Stella is cartoonishly evil, abusive and completely one dimensional, he has the excuse of, "Look! I know I backstabbed my wife, ripped my family apart and gave my daughter a fuckton of issues, but I can't help it! She's an abusive bitch that treats me like garbage. She had it coming!" So it's just lazy and shitty writing. Simple as that.

What pisses me off about this is that it takes away all of Stolas' consequences for his actions and the nuence out of a dark subject matter, making it a completely black and white issue. Cheating is no joke. It leads to emotional and psychological issues for the victim that can last for years to come. If Stella was an actual character instead of a plot device to justify Stolas' actions, she would be no different. As someone who has a close friend of mine still suffering years after her ex-fiancé cheated on her, how the show is handling this really pisses me off. Either handle these things with respect and nuance or don't add it in at all.

This is a damn shame, too. Stella and the whole cheating subplot had so much potential to be interesting. But it's all dashed in favour of lazy writing. No one deserves to be cheated on. Even women like her.

Honestly, if I written the show, I would've made her a pampered brat, who is always being pushed around and controlled by the men in her life. She genuinely loves her husband, despite it being an arranged marriage. When she figures out about this, she is super pissed and heartbroken by the act. Her brother takes advantage of her ire by convincing her to hire a hitman to kill her husband. She agrees. When that fails, he then tells her that she has to kill her daughter as well. That is when she starts to hesitate. Her brother goes behind her back to hire Striker again to carry out a hit on her daughter, but she has a change of heart and saves her life. She still hates Stolas for what he did and still is angry at him, but she just walks out of his life and goes out on her own. That way she's still a bitch, but she has hints of good in her, her motives are somewhat understandable and she has an arc of learning to stand up for herself. Idk, that's just me.

[skaruresonic]

@beevean Out of morbid curiosity, I watched episode one of Netflixavania following a video explaining games lore (disclaimer: just the Classic era. There seems to be A Lot covered in this franchise). My first impressions are: = Despite being almost comically edgy, I really wasn't emotionally impacted by the writing. It almost felt like it was just going through the motions. We begin the show with the start of Dracula and Lisa's relationship, and yet we're told it was this great transformative love instead of being shown that. One minute she's convinced him to let her stay, the next she's being burned at the stake. Wow. The tragedy. Break out the tissues. Dracula says he loved her, ofc, but since we don't get to see their relationship in action, the show might as well shrug and be like "just trust me dood"

= It's really ironic that a show paying lip service to science conveniently forgets that burn stake victims were likely to die or fall unconscious from smoke inhalation before the actual burning. Meaning Lisa wouldn't have had the time to scream and plead for as long as she had.

= ...Is this another one of those "all religion is bad and I am smart for shitting on it" works? Because I had enough of that with Mists of Avalon lmao. Not that I'm the biggest fan of Christianity, but anti-Christianity tracts like these tend to be equally fucking obnoxious because they're always so one-note, disingenuous, and boring with how they constantly beat you over the head with "religion bad" and don't really add anything else to that particular thought

= Wallachia is portrayed as like, cartoonishly backwater. Women doctors existed in the Middle Ages. They were not all automatically burned at the stake because hurr durr technology is evil.

Some of them even treated kings; I recall reading about a medieval Jewish doctor who cured a young king's eye condition. somehow I get the feeling the writer of this show has not read A History Book

= I also found it funny how the priest named "strange weeds" in the list of Lisa's possessions, as if the people of medieval Wallachia were so backwards that they didn't know what fucking herbs were.

The absolute lmao. = I don't really know anything about Dracula other than he decided to oppose God due to the death of his first wife in the games, but even then, despite my sheer lack of knowledge, I still sensed something off about his characterization here. Given how the show practically has Dracula spell it out for us that He Really Loved Lisa More Than These Stinky Humans, I Swear Just Trust Me Dood at the episode's climax, I had the feeling that if someone like him had been told his wife was dying, he'd fly like the wind to go try and rescue her. Or, failing that, unleashing unholy wrath upon her killers. But no, he just broods to the old woman just to be Dramatique. no talk him, he angy >:c = crying blood. CRAAAAAWLING IN MY CRAAAAAWL, THESE CRAWL THEY WILL NOT CRAAAAAAAAWL = Alucard tells Dracula to go after the one who killed Lisa instead of condemning all of humanity to death, but he already fucking saw who did it so like lmao what kind of logic is this = The people of Wallachia were too dumb to live actually. And kinda had it coming tbh. Imagine you don't think Satan exists but one day he shows up out of nowhere in a cloud of hellfire and tells you to gtfo before he kills you all. And instead of getting the fuck out of Dodge that very night because holy crap Satan is real after all and worse, he's pissed off, you decide to stay. Like dumbasses. = oh is this just Hunchback of Notre Dame without the sexual repression? k cool. = I'll bet the animators really liked drawing all that gore. ow the edge = Why did we spend five minutes on a not-funny, prolonged bestiality joke? It did nothing but waste time. Is this what passes for humor on this show?

= Well. That just happened. Thought it'd be more interesting than that but nah

[powpowhammer]

I would very much like to know what you meant by "also Snuff is very bad" if such is alright to request

Hey! I let this sit in my inbox for four months. Sorry. I think Snuff is easily the weakest Vimes novel, despite respecting what it set out to do. I let it sit because there's a lot to say. There are three kinda big problems: the way Vimes is written, the way the story is written (plot), and the way the story is written (literary strength). Spoilers for every City Watch book and a couple of others. Very long rant ahead.

Before I proceed with the harsher words here's a bunch of things I liked a lot in Snuff: Vimes being totally enraptured by the goblin music, the goblin cave system, the whole goblin body stuff jar religion ritual, Vimes having sex with Sybil in the tub and generally expressing a lot more Loving His Wife So Much on-page instead of impliedly, the enlisted constable being quite competent and also being really good at kung fu (and his mom being from the Counterweight Continent, shout out to all my half-and-half representation wherever I can find it), Willikins being Vimes's fixer. The one noble guy who hated his evil wife. Stinky and the Harry King sections (very first-gen son vibes). The jokes about the river. Nobby once again maybe Finding Love.

And before I proceed again, I think that as an American this very sort of setting is alien to me in a way that Ankh-Morpork or Koom Valley is not. Landed gentry and estates are, despite our stupid amounts of physical geography, not as a big part of our cultural storytelling, for various reasons. And at least for a few more decades pending the outcome of revisionist educational legislation, thanks to the aftermath of the Civil War, we generally do see owning a large property with a fiefdom of workers as a trait difficult to associate with heroic figures, Gone With The Wind nonwithstanding. So when something is set at an estate and concerns explicit class divisions, it unavoidably gets read as a Genre. (Contrast the class division stories that take place inside Ankh-Morpork, which are more explicitly about moneyed power that more incidentally happens to be associated with peerage, e.g. The Truth or Feet of Clay. In these books Lord de Worde, Selachii, etc. could be replaced by old-money Families that are nonetheless not 'noble' like the Vanderbilts, Rockefellers, etc without too much narrative dissonance, I think. Men at Arms is an outlier but after that the stories are less about AM's True King and more about political jockeying.)

I think giving it the 'this is a pastiche of Pride and Prejuidice-style writing' handicap can make up for some of its deficiencies, but at its core it simply does not read like, say, any other Vimes novel (this isn't unique to Snuff; I think as Pterry's faculties went, all the books after Making Money (disclaimer: I have never read the TA books and people say Wear Midnight is superb so I make no claims there) really read differently than everything before. The prose is less tight, the courses of events are less clear, and the characterization is spottier. The themes don't resonate as clearly.

Vimes: Vimes's dogged determination to think of himself as Just A Guy Who Cares About Justice is undermined in Snuff by two major factors: his willingness to use his power in conflicts against those with less power than him (e.g., the various scenes set at the pub) and his explicit utilization of the powers of the Summoning Dark. Vimes's various trials and successes have come from his bloody-mindedness and determination to remain himself despite the changes in his life.

Regarding power, social: In previous novels we see Vimes more a (narrative) victim of his status than a deployer of it, as both a running joke and a driver of the plot. (Don't confuse the creature comforts of wealth, such as daily bacon sandwiches and soft beds, with the auspices of power, which affects other people.) He only chooses to use it when he can't win a fight as himself, and then, reluctantly. In Feet of Clay, the coat-of-arms machinations bewilder him, and when he finally confronts Dragon King of Arms he does it as a public servant making an arrest. In Fifth Elephant, he is forced onto the trip because of his dukedom (Vetinari understanding, of course, that he is the only person who can solve the Wolf Nazi problem). We see him resolving conflicts with physical violence (bandits) and mangled street diplomacy (dwarf inspectors) before finally being forced to resort to noble privilege for the sake of another (in protection of Detritus's civil rights). He is sent to prison and then onto The Game in spite of his power, and makes it through because of his personal qualities (see power, supernatural below). In Thud! he is humiliated by his inability to remain equals with his house staff. In Snuff, despite the initial discomfort with the role he expresses during the mandatory opening Vetinari session, he doesn't interact with his household outside the twirling maids and Willikins (who has distinguished himself as somewhat of a wildcard character at this point in time). At all times he knows he is in charge of the hermit, the pub and its owner, the farmers, and the rest of the villagers. For a character so set on being a civilian, he adapts quite quickly to nobility once removed from the city and the presence of other 'nobles'. And maybe this is the point of the book, but if so, it doesn't come across clearly at all. Furthermore, when he's not wielding noble power, he's constantly kicking down doors and asserting I AM THE LAW! at a level of arrogance we've seen him think but never before act upon without an active foe (contrast Night Watch, where he pulls rank on Quirke when challenged and negotiates with civilians on the barricade far more than he barks orders).

Regarding power, supernatural: Vimes has survived 40+ years of rough living via grit and instinct. We know he's an excellent street fighter, though not the best. The 'special' traits that Vimes has up through Thud! are his instincts - his character-central curiosity (bloody-minded suspicious bastard!), and his connection to and control over pure animal rage, aka The Beast. In Fifth Elephant he deploys it to make it through the Game and collars it when the fight is no longer about survival but domination. In Night Watch, it again emerges but is consciously caged in the service of human justice (fairness and example-setting, in the case of the torturer, and due process, in the final fight with Carcer). Either way, the 'power' comes entirely from within, and is not magical in any way, shape or form - and fittingly, the corralling of a force that stems from prehumanity is itself a very human thing to do.

In Thud!, a bunch of themes introduced in Fifth Element get developed in cool ways - religion, ritual, darkness, curses, and 'endarkening' - and the apotheosis comes when Vimes's internal rulekeeper overpowers an ancient force of evil because he loves justice and he loves his son. (Other people have written pretty thoroughly about how the conscious decision to be Good when you could so easily be Bad is the core of both Vimes and Granny Weatherwax's characterizations, so I won't expand on that too thoroughly.) The Summoning Dark is effectively exorcised, and the scar it leaves is power enough to intimidate the remaining dwarven obstacles in the denouement.

In Snuff, Vimes literally has magic powers thanks to the Summoning Dark. He can see in the dark, understand language in ways he should not, and develops an explicitly supernatural sixth sense. While the darksight is kind of cool, and fits his character well as Avatar of Night Policeman, the fact that the book continually points out that he got it from the SD is a burr on the coat of the narrative. He does things another person wouldn't be able to do, and cites his magic demon over and over for it.

Story, plot: Every City Watch book is set up in the same way: (optional) cold open, interpersonal theme Z is introduced, plot X (A Detective Problem) is introduced, plot Y (A Second Problem) is introduced, sometimes Y before X. (I hesitate to call these A and B plots because the importance of each varies from book to book.) Things happen, the plots eventually join up, plot climax, emotional/character climax in which Vimes or another watchman reaches or proves an important point to themself or us, denouement. I have no problem with this formula because it is broad enough to include within itself infinite room for variation. Some quick examples: Feet of Clay (Golem looks for work/assassination attempt. Cheery comes looking for work and is a girl. Golems are robots. Someone is trying to kill Vetinari. Vimes has to get a coat of arms. Story occurs. The case gets solved and it was connected to the golems. Golems are people, not robots. Words In The Heart Cannot Be Taken. People matter. The Vimes coat of arms gets restored.) Fifth Elephant (There is a divide between the Old and the New. Racial tension. Cheery is coming out more loudly. Someone has stolen the replica Scone and killed three men. Vimes gets sent to Uberwald. Story occurs. The case is solved and it is connected to the coronation. Angua and Vimes both assert their humanity and agency by refusing to abuse their power to kill even when it would be expected of them. Change and cultural development is not a threat to and is indeed even crucial to the survival of traditional institutions.)

I don't think a deviation from this structure is a bad thing, but the structure is so strong that it's much easier to follow the story built upon it.

In Snuff, we get a cold open (goblin stuff) and an ostensible Y plot (Vimes Is Forced To Go On Vacation To the Countryside). But what is the X plot? Is it that there is smuggling and human (goblin) trafficking? Is it the murder on the hill? Is it Mysterious Noble Bullshit Vimes sniffs out? If pressed, what is the Z theme? That goblins are people worth respecting? It's not this. This is readily made explicit to us by Ms. Beedle long before even the buildup to the book's action climax (the river chase). There's no show, only tell - we never learn something a character doesn't tell us. Vimes spends the whole book picking fights in the village, lecturing other nobles, and being told things about goblins. The most interesting development is his mentorship of Constable Upshot, but it's inconsistent and oscillates wildly between "sir, you don't know what you're talking about", surprising competence, and hero worship, with no directional progression. When Vimes and the Watch get to Klatch and discover the slave plantation they deal with it. The scene that occurs when the emotional climax would be expected - Stratford coming for Vimes's life on the river cruise - doesn't tell us anything new about the characters, their beliefs, or moral themes, just that Vimes is a Badass. The lesson Bad Men Do Things For Money could have been developed by giving Stratford a foil (maybe in the form of the constable, another commoner who chooses to be a Good Man, by giving Upshot moral dilemmas he resolves on-page). Similarly, the most cohesive Theme suggested by the climax and denouement isn't that Goblins Are People but that Commoners Are Just As Likely As Lords To Treat Goblins As Unpeople, which is miserably pessimistic. Vimes doesn't learn anything and neither do we.

Story, literary critique: Other books - not just City Watch books, but books like Going Postal, Carpe Jugulum, and Thief of Time - are both generous with narrative inclusion (we get scenes from the perspectives of the antagonists without being spoiled and from the perspective of deuteragonists or side characters). At the same time, we always know what our characters are thinking or feeling at any given time, even when they don't know what is going on or are acting with a hidden motive, because of strong characterization and effective foreshadowing. Stanley and Mr. Groat get scenes to themselves in GP that develop their characters and the mythos of the Post Office, and later we know Moist is up to some zany shit when he sets up all those prayers and then digs up his haul. Granny Weatherwax Weatherwaxes the Magpyrs after demonstrating Borrowing and her utter loyalty to herself and the land, and the Magpyrs have plenty of scenes with Agnes and one another. The Auditors have scenes that develop the fact that being human makes you human, setting up Myria's eventual meeting with Death. Back with Vimes, in The Fifth Elephant, when the chandelier falls and he gets sent to prison, he's just as confused as we are. When he escapes, we understand every part of his process as he comes up with it, moment by moment. Vimes in particular has a very visceral, real-time narrative which I think leads to why his characterization is so strong. (Contrast this with Carrot, for whom outside of Guards! Guards! and his letter-writing we never really know quite what he is thinking.) When Vimes is in the scene, we're basically never outside his head - EXCEPT in Snuff. In Snuff, there are at least as many scenes where we only know that Vimes IS doing things, not why he's doing them, or how he feels. The book reads like sometimes, it's someone else telling a story about Vimes's adventures, only recording the events that occur instead of telling us how the characters feel during them. And this is in part due to the fact that PTerry had help writing it; his wife and other friends helped him finish it (and also Raising Steam). Etiology aside, it's incredibly awkward and alienating to be forcibly removed from the interior of a character we've grown to know so well.

Additionally, the few scenes that don't follow Vimes are back with the City Watch, and their characterizations are similarly hollow. Fred Colon is bizarrely bowdlerized in order to motivate the unngue pot thread. There are no scenes like Fred and Nobby's co-dialogues that secretly set the stage (as in Thud!) or develop the characters (like Angua and Sally, also in Thud!). We come close with Cherry and Igor possibly discussing Old World Beliefs, but it's curtailed almost before it starts. The characters are there simply to say their lines and start the investigation, and bear little resemblance to the characters we've grown to know (compare Thud!, in which Detritus's pursuit of drugs is plot-relevant but informs his personal character as an ex-con and a troll looking to start a family, or where Angua and Sally's co-investigation is an opportunity to demonstrate Angua's neuroses).

Finally, in Snuff, the villains are ambiguous and unimportant. It is ultimately borne out to be Rust the Younger, but at that point it hardly matters. We know the Rusts are rotten, and in fact it's kind of refreshing to see one of them actually commit an on-page crime and get nailed for it instead of vaguely be awful (MAA, Jingo, Night Watch). But it's only Rust Jr. because the book reads like a big collection of callbacks to the other books, pointing to things and going say, remember that? Remember Blackboard Monitor Vimes, and the Summoning Dark, and Lord Ronnie Rust? How about Koom Valley?

Vimes spends the book clearing through sub-villains like a new game plus gamer plowing through midbosses. I had to reread the last half to remember the names of Flutter and Stoner and Stratford and all the other mooks. Working for money is a fine motivation for a villain - see the New Firm in The Truth - but these guys are wholly interchangeable and completely forgettable.

TL;DR Despite Night Watch being the isekai, Snuff is the book where Vimes is the boring invincible protagonist who barrels through people and obstacles with wealth, political power, and literal superpowers yet no interesting motivations, and we don't learn anything and there aren't any cohesive themes and the vast majority of the scenes are shoddily written and I don't care about any of the characters except maybe Feeney Upshot. Night Watch was the culmination of Vimes's personal themes, redundantly made textually explicit in Thud! (unnecessary but still a fun time because all the other shit was rad), and any future City Watch writing should probably have been relegated to elements in the Industrial Revolution books. Or about Angua.

[everybody-loves-purdy]

As much as I dislike DotC… rereading it, I’m rereading it now and I realize that people can be a big nitpicky on some things.

While I agree with people who say that Gray Wing is used to display the Erins fatphobia, misogyny, and weird hatred for adoption, Clear Sky is horribly written and the authors push his terrible redemption arc too much, and Thunder is boring. I agree with people who say that Wind Runner is another character that the fandom loves and calls a “girlboss” when they really just constantly treat others poorly. I understand when people say that this arc (and era in general) has WAY too much fridging.

But that being said, there is a scene from The First Battle that shows Thunder trying to stop others from battle training, and afterwards having to have Turtle tail sit him down and help him understand why exactly that’s happening and he DOES understand eventually. And in this scene, Wind Runner was being a jerk to him. She compared him to Clear Sky, showed very clear disliking towards him before this scene in this exact chapter and is just altogether aggressive towards him. Keep in mind, he is barely an adult here and he is STILL processing the fact that his father sucks.

But I saw someone taking this scene out of context. They made it seem like he was trying to stop an actual battle, and they removed some of Wind Runners lines where she totally crossed the line and basically bullied him. And they didn’t show the scene where Thunder grows to understand why they are doing what they are doing. It’s… Bad. And I honestly believed them before I read the book.

I do disagree about Clear Sky, I personally think his writing is great just because of how consistently shitty he is despite his views changing but that’s a discussion for another time lol and probably for one when I do actually reread dotc. And there is a bit where Gray Wing realises that his adopted children mean just the same to him as his new biological children (he expects the love to feel different but it isn’t) But yeah everything else in that first paragraph I agree with.

I don’t blame you for believing that was real. Misinformation is rampant in the warriors fandom, made so much worse (and often caused) by people cherrypicking bits of the books. People think “oh look they include the text so that must mean their point is accurate!” Not realising half the relevant section has been conveniently missed out. I always try my best to convey the full picture myself as I feel it is important that people get the full context and make their own choices. But I have seen so many posts where people say things about a character and then it’s the most cherrypicked quotes possible. I think it’s much worse with the newer arcs because less people read them, but it does still happen with the older books. I’ve noticed Dawn of the clans be a particular victim of this on tumblr.

This misinformation is so easy to spread because who’s got time to read a 6 book arc just to fact check an online post? And this is made worse by many people who get their book information secondhand getting it this way and understandably accepting it as objective fact.

It frustrates me. Recently I’ve seen someone declare their hate for gray wing despite not reading dotc, and the basis of their argument being a tumblr post about the scene where Bumble died in book 2. If you don’t like him after reading the books then fair enough, that’s your opinion, but I think its unwise to put such strong feelings into a character that you haven’t read about beyond cherrypicked quotes.

Another example is how I’ve seen someone who hasn’t read oots onward say that like Tigerheartstar from what Tigerheartstar fans have been telling them. Their impression of him from secondhand info is just that he’s a silly guy who tells dad jokes and loves his wife. But there is so much more to him than that!

I know that this has been a bit of a long one lol, but it is a big problem in the fandom I have slowly been noticing being on the rise lately. I have seen more and more of this misinformation/ cherrypicked info spread around and often stated as objective fact. And it is so easy to do! I’ve probably done it myself! Just because there’s about 100 books now so it’s so hard for anyone to keep track of what’s accurate and what’s not.

I try my best to keep what I say book accurate, that’s one big reason I’m doing my reread so I can refresh myself on everything to make sure I don’t accidentally spread any misinformation. Obviously I have my own opinions, and if you disagree with them that’s fine, but I would never purposely say something against canon or purposely cherrypick in order to bolster my viewpoint.

Tldr: In-text context is everything

[deuterosapiens]

So, finished Book V of The Godfather. Over the course of this, we've had the Don recover from his near fatal shooting, the Don attempt to establish peace with the other Families, the death of Sonny Corleone (complete with a line I was not exactly aware came from The Godfather "Look how they massacred my boy"), and other stuff.

It's actually this other stuff that prompted me to continue my write-up (I'll acknowledge that my original form of posting observations simultaneous to my reading has been a bit neglectful and really, it's not a particularly helpful way of looking at this book anyway).

For context however, I'll accept that the book was published in 1969, and it's main action is set between 1945 and '49, so far. Therefore it would be disingenuous to apply modern societal standards to a work such as this. I'll not claim however that there can be no academic value to viewing a book from the lens of a society that it was not intended to reflect.

So, to get it out there. These women, with very little exception, are more or less written for no reason other than to fawn over or be abused by its male characters. Kay Adams has a little personality going for her, and she has a bit of agency in this world, but all of that is in direct pursuit of Michael Corleone.

Connie, the Don's youngest child, marries the abusive Carlo and, while her frequent abuse is the crux that leads to Sonny's death, the Don basically excuses her treatment because of his belief that a wife's duty is exclusively to the fulfillment of her husband's wishes.

Violence in this book is prevalent. Male on male violence, male on female, and one instance of female on male comes to mind (the man in question is treated basically as a joke in this one, like allowing himself to be the victim of female abuse is a shortcoming og his that forms the basis of his character arc). That's sort of a thing to be expected. But it kind of reads like these men are actively benefiting from their poor treatment of women, and those who try to do something about kind of end up screwed. Dead, really.

Can we also talk about how we have a character whose whole arc so far is: her vagina is too big to satisfy the average man, so she starts an affair with the incredibly well-endowed Sonny Corleone, whose death causes her to shut off from love, attempt suicide. She meets a doctor whom she starts to fall in love with, but upon having sex, he realizes "oh, her vagina is too big!" He convices her to have it surgically corrected, they have sex, and basically the entire issue with Sonny is forgotten. This was just such a weird thing to drag the action to a stop for. I cannot imagine this being important later.

Then again, this book comes off as very episodic, so I cannot physically predict what may or may not be important, as every main story arc seems to be resolved almost immediately after it's set up, so who knows?

[sentientcave]

I think you should write a whole novel about the cast of COD as the Princess Bride characters! You should you should you should!

WELL IF YOU INSIST *pulls up notes*

The original idea I had was for screenshot redraws and it was because I thought that Gaz would look good in that, and I quote, "Cunty little black number" and since he already has the right mustache, you just know he's the right man for the part. Also, like Early said, he's definitely an As You Wish kind of guy.

I'm putting this under a readmore because it got kinda long lmao

Soap as Inigo Montoya - I think it's a perfect fit, and I was fresh off of finishing the 09 MW2 where he fucking pulls a knife out of his chest to kill Shepherd with?? Like I know that's Captain Soap and not Sergeant but if that's not a parallel to Inigo getting run through and still chasing a man down to kill him I don't know what is.

Ghost as Fezzik - Huge scary guy with a penchant for jokes? That's our Simon. Not to mention he's got to be the other half of any dynamic duo that Soap's in. It's only right. Do Not Separate.

Graves as Vizzini - "You fool! You've fallen victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well known is this: Never go up against a SicilianTexan when death is on the line!" *dies* (Need I say more? Honestly Iconic moment)

Now for Buttercup there are two perfect choices, coming down to whether I'd be playing this for maximum laughs or taking it slightly more seriously:

Farah: I feel like she gets left out a lot and she's like, ridiculous pretty and I love to draw her. This would be the slightly more serious version. The main downside to this is I don't really see Farah and Gaz having any particular chemistry, which leads us to our next option...

Price: OKAY LISTEN you can't tell me that you wouldn't like to see Price's big hairy tits in a dress I refuse to believe it. And my friend Lisa brought up the "There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world, it would be a pity to damage yours." line and like. That's hilarious. Also canonically Price is the guy that Gaz is at his most As You Wish for so it really just makes sense.

Makarov as Prince Humperdink - This is another point for Buttercup Price because lmaooo.

Also if Farah isn't Buttercup she and Alex can be Mad Max and his wife. Or maybe Nik and Kate could be? I do think Kate chasing Nik around a table and saying "Makarov" over and over at him would be pretty fucking funny too. Probably funnier. Hard to say.

König as Count Rugen/The Six-Fingered Man - I'm pretty sure Makarov has some little sidekick guy that maybe would be a good choice for this guy too, but since it was Early's post that reminded me of all this nonsense I think König should play one of the few characters that actually dies, as a treat. I'm pretty sure he owes them $50 so Soap can collect that off his corpse for her.

If I went with the Farah Buttercup, Price would play the Grandpa and also every random bit background part while wearing different hats. I think this is a funny gag, and I did this once for a cheap rendition of Hamlet to great effect. Between three wigs, a couple of construction paper mustaches and a paper crown, I was able to really fill out the cast. Price is at least as good an actor as I am, so I have faith in him.

So yeah! There are a few other rando characters but I'd just choose random guys from the multiplayer probably. Roll a dice on them mfs. This was a very long answer (Although not quite a novel, I have failed you) and it's a very silly idea that I still might tackle one of these days. At the time I didn't have a working digital tablet so I thought it would be like, a lot of work for what amounts to a gag, but now that I DO have a working digital tablet the only thing stopping me is that I haven't had the whim to do any art recently. But I might today while I'm thinking about it.

[sorry-ghost]

I should tell you I loved you more than the breath could hold in my chest and that I loved you more than I've ever loved any woman or man and I was willing to marry you and not as a joke

it's over and it's been over and you have a family now, two children born from a poison mother feeding them toxins in the womb and still you love and care for them as if they were your own, birthed from your own. I cannot ever fault you for helping to maybe save these children from a perma-victim birth giver, oh the nerves in their arms are damaged from abuse, they were so tarnished. so were you and I. Abuse doesn't make you special, it necessitates help, and not that of a lover but a professional.

I wish I could tell you I see it clearly now. what he did to you was rape. I was in denial because he did the same to me repeatedly, even publicly, but he said he loved me. brainwashed, insecure, I could have healed for you, healed with you, but it took too long for me to realize and by that time you chose the mother over me. them. the. children. I cannot be angry if it's for child safety, but my heart is still broken.

I have moved on. traditional roles, a man who is kind and gentle who will likely want me as a wife someday. I think im a lesbian, still, mostly.

I still miss you so deeply it hurts my soul. I dream of you every night, our laughter, our kisses, our escapades. holding hands in front of the giant chairs stacked statue, laughing in prismacolor as we made love beneath the shimmer of your fairy lights. My nightly escapades with you are now my nightmares, knowing how beautiful we had it and how we threw each other away.

my guilt eats me alive. you meant everything to me. I love you still, and I hate that. I want you to be successful, to be happy, to find joy. I am so scared you won't, hindered by dead weight youve complained so much about to me. they don't care for their kids, themself, the dishes, lied and snuck an abuser into your home and sroll wormed their way back into your graces. I could have intervened sooner. I could have done so much more. I never stopped loving you, Mia, and I don't think I ever will. only time will dull the ache you've left in my chest, even if slowly. painfully. slowly. it's been over a year, and I cry still over you. I love another and still, I cry over you, still. I think I always will.

I wish I wasn't a joke to you. a false commitment, a side project to a fixer upper person and a man you met a day ago. You were far from perfect, as was I, but the love you gave me was something I had never experienced prior and since. Love was deserved, not earned.

outside of you alone, I've had to earn love. to fight to show my worth, desperate to be told I am allowed to take up space in a room or in a heart.

I wish we had fallen in love differently. I dreamed of taking you as my wife so many times. I wrote my wish on a tanabata, perhaps it backfired. My heart lingers with you still, and you have moved on. I am happy for you, sad for myself.

when you reached out to me last there was nothing left to say. I knew you made your decision. the children, of course. I could not compete nor would I want to with the safety of babies.

I had so much more to say, but you had enough on your hands, and I was the only one with a therapist.

do you know that our mutual ex raped me again? and again? after all had ended? and once more after we last spoke? no. threats and pushing me to attempt once more on my life, but the water refused to stsy in my lungs and the cuts were too shallow. i glued myself shut thst night and passed out on the bathroom floor. I moved. I changed studios, more than once. a dramatic walkout, a big thing of it. moving, again. that was a big deal. I lost friends. countless. well, I could count but it would be painful. single digits remain. loyal, but I am empty.

I hear your songs about me. I write my poems about you. you are marked forever by me, ink in your skin. and yours in mine.

I wish there were no damn kids involved. I'd have loved you for the rest of my life if you hadn't gotten mixed up with that mess.

I miss you earnestly. every day. I hate that you were stolen from me by differing ideals. I would not be a fixture in a child's life that has no relation to me, especially considering the circumstances.

maybe one day I will find a love like you again. maybe you will achieve your joy.

we destroyed each other in the names of bullshit.

I am teetering on the edge and I couldn't take a response that isn't positive, so I won't say anything at all. I'm dangerously close to stupid decisions. I drink to forget and only remember. I cut to numb but only burn.

be it the discord, the romance we had blackened by the heat death of our scorching fire, I am yet still so glad you are alive. Please. Stay with us.

I hate it, but I love you still. Beyond words, I love you.

[taylorcline]

taylor will be the first one to tell you, she's fucked up. the cause? years of years of torture from the media, the world. years of being the butt of the joke. taylor cline can't keep a man. don't date her, she'll write a song about you. she's a slut. god, will she ever stop playing the victim? even before 2016, her loved ones knew much she was struggling behind closed doors. she very seldomly went anywhere without her mother, the older woman was her safe place. hell, even now she hates being apart from her from too long. then 2016 happened and she swore it was the apocalypse. she was getting the hell out. why would she stick around to a world that clearly hated her? she was so tired that she couldn't be upset about things without 'playing the victim.' the blonde wanted to live in peace. somewhere where no one could find her. she could become an urban legend, a myth. but no. that scum of the earth narcissist and his talentless wife didn't get to win. fuck that. if they were painting her as the villain? fine, then she was the villain. their worst nightmare. america's sweetheart turned into a villainess in a year.. but taylor was who she had always been deep down at the end of the day. the blonde never forgot the people who were kind to her in her time of distress. when it was so easy to hate on her, there were people who stood firmly by her. abbott included. it kept her going. knowing with even the darkest night, the sun always rose. always. in many ways, she had healed. the millions of hours she had checked off in therapy making her feel like a person again, not just a brand. she wants him, but she's starting to unravel again. as if she's seen this film before. she has. not to think about about her ex, but the two had this conversation so many years ago. then he got sick of her. abbott really wanted to follow her all over the world next year? god, joe didn't even want to attend a single show in general. but abbott wasn't him. she knew he wasn't. he would never treat her so poorly. so why was she still so scared? the blonde took a deep breath, eyes closed for a moment against him. she's speechless. home. home. home. he feels like home. all taylor wants to do is come home to him, for him to come home to her, make a home with him. to run off stage after a three hour performance and straight into his arms, the dream. taylor could laugh at how many versions of herself he knew her as. the girl with big curly hair, a permanent thirteen on her hand written in sharpie with a very obvious fake country accent, the girl who got bangs and chemically straightened her hair and forever ruined her curls by doing so because she wanted to look more grown up, then he knew her when she chopped off all her hair and moved to new york. oh, and when she bleached her hair and once again fried her hair? yep, he knew her then too. so many transformations in fourteen years later and yet, she's still just a girl that is scared of her feelings for taylor abbott. she's scared that she'll find a way to ruin it just like last time. her mind can't always be trusted. or that he'll get tired of her eventually and she'll once again be stuck with a broken heart. ""abbott, i'm just —," if she could rest against him forever, that'd be ideal, but the woman pulls away reluctantly. wow cline ever the romantic. there's his last name again. it just slipped out. "i'm terrified of getting my heart broken again so soon. and i know you're not —," him, she wants to say. the person who threw pathological people pleaser right in her face. but she doesn't. "i know you would never do it on purpose because you're the sweetest guy i've ever known, but... how do you know? how do you know you won't get tired of me eventually? hell, i get tired of me," god, she feels so stupid and ridiculous right now. yes, she's working on being kinder to herself, but sometimes she just can't help it. "god, i probably sound like a stupid, broken record right now. i'm sorry," ugh, she can't believe her hungover self is trying to ruin her life.

“taylor, i…” stammering, the haze of emotion pulsing through him like a tidal wave. it was impossible to continue without a brush of tears as they threatened to stream down pale cheekbones. love, loved, every tense of the word. the terrified young adult had attempted to evade the notion, to express his truth to a woman now whom should’ve known. quivering lips bevy with his forest green orbs settling on the airport floor. baby. the petname caused a hitch to form a golfball sized lump in his throat. it had devoured him, for thirteen years. as difficult as it was to admit, it was even harder to selfishly doubt that he had ever bristled past those irreconcilable feelings while dating someone else. did that paint him as the villain? to the outside voices, sure. and possibly to himself. but in this moment, it was his own cross to bare. “of course i did — i do. i loved you then and i am even more in love with you now. i know i never said it but i was just so scared that it was always too soon. and i don’t blame you for having to step away, hell, you’ve got even more on your plate than you did back then. i have always admired you and the way you’ve kept yourself so grounded and despite everyone’s eyes on you, you haven’t changed,” the sensation of her thumb sweeping across his cheek caused internal shivers to ricochet down his spine. how he melted into her touch. returning the favour, he stroked underneath her own tears with the pad of his thumb, delicately caressing beneath her ear. then inserted the hesitancy. immediately he shook his head at each word that fell from her lips as she spoke, automatically shutting down the insinuation. he had already made the same mistake twice, a third time was not about to be in the books. especially now. “taylor, i want you. and everything that comes with you. i’ve never been more sure of anything than i am of this. i want to be there for you and if that means going on tour to cheer you on and be in your corner, i want to be there every single second. not just for the good, but for the bad and everything in between. i know we could make this work, you’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. i think you forget i’ve been in the business for a little bit, and i know its different now than it was then but we can navigate it. together,” his forehead resting against hers, their proximity dissolving as his nose carefully grazed hers. the ball now in the honey blonde’s court, taylor was prepared to trial all morning long if that was what it took to convince her of his confidence.

[helaintoloki]

Meet the Family

pairing: Pietro Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: angst, manipulation, reader is a Westview hostage controlled by Wanda, etc., 2.5k in length

notes: writing a piece that takes place in the WandaVision universe was such a challenging and fun experience, and I really tried to capture the same dark undertones of the show so I hope you enjoy!

summary: An innocent family dinner with Pietro’s new girlfriend reveals that life in Westview is not what it seems. Uncle Pietro introduces y/n to the family!

Y/n almost feels like she’s being watched as the warm hand of her boyfriend— since when do I have a boyfriend?— carefully guides her trembling figure up the front steps of his sister’s house and rings the doorbell. Her grip on the glass dish of brownies in her hands is so impossibly tight she fears she might just break it, and when the silver haired man swoops down to steal a kiss from her cherry gloss stained lips she can’t help but to feel nauseated. The sickness morphs into guilt immediately, and when he looks down upon her with a gaze so tender and fond she forces herself to bat her eyes and smile at him. What kind of girlfriend is horrible enough to be disgusted by a kiss from her own boyfriend? Something isn’t right here...

“Don’t even sweat it, babe, my little sis is going to love you!” Pietro comforts with an easygoing grin plastered on his features.

“I hope so,” y/n murmurs quietly, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. This is the audition, her one shot at impressing the boss, and if even one tiny minuscule detail is thrown out of place then there goes her new house and fancy wardrobe and y/n is written out of the show. Permanently.

“My girlfriend is such a worrywart,” he laughs fondly with a gentle pinch of her cheek. It’s as if a switch is flipped inside of her, and this time when she smiles at him it is genuine and full of unadulterated love.

“I just want everything to be perfect, I know how much this means to you,” she replies earnestly, too dazed to notice the soft aww that drifts through the air from the audience. Pietro smiles.

“Man, did I luck out on finding the most perfect girl in the world or what?”

“Well us being together certainly isn’t a coincidence,” she notes with a small smile. The uneasiness begins to wash over her again, but y/n isn’t given a chance to dwell on the feeling as the front door swings open and a vibrant looking young woman stands in the doorway, almost beaming at the two with pure glee.

“Thank goodness you made it!” She exclaims, hand delicately resting on her chest to showcase her relief before she pulls the stranger her brother into a hug.

“Like we’d really miss Sunday dinner,” Pietro jokes before pressing a chaste kiss to his sister’s cheek. His hand returns to the small of y/n’s back and the fond smile pulls at his lips again. “Wanda, I’d like to introduce you to a very special little lady, my girlfriend y/n.”

“Oh, she’s very special indeed,” Wanda notes with an overzealous wink, ignoring the way in which the brownie dish begins to tremble in the poor girl’s hands. Just a little stage fright, that’s all. “It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Wanda.”

“It’s an honor to meet you,” the girl replies earnestly, “Pietro has told me so much about you.”

“Well aren’t you sweet! Please, come in,” Wanda grins, ushering the two inside before shutting the door. “Boys, Uncle Pietro is here!”

“What a lovely place you have,” y/n compliments. Her eyes scan the perfectly decorated home in wonder, awe, and a third thing she can’t quite place for if she dwells on it for too long her head begins to ache and her surroundings begin to grow fuzzy.

“Oh, please, it’s just a little something I threw together,” she jokes, canned laughter echoing distantly in the background of y/n’s mind.

“Uncle Pietro!” Two voices exclaim, and y/n watches curiously as her boyfriend lets out an ecstatic laugh before rushing forward to scoop the twin boys in his arms.

“If it isn’t my favorite little trouble makers!” He grins, making sure to ruffle both heads of hair. “Billy, Tommy, say hi to your aunt y/n.”

“Hi, aunt y/n,” Billy greets politely. Tommy is at her side in an instant, movements so quick y/n can’t help but to let out a startled yelp as he lunges for the dish in her hands.

“Are those brownies?!”

“Tommy, where are your manners?” Wanda chides gently, shaking her head with a laugh and reaching for the pastries. “Boys will be boys. I’ll take these off your hands.”

“Oh, uh, yes, thank you...” y/n murmurs softly, brows stitched together in discomfort.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s absence, another late night at the office. You know how it is, don’t you?”

“I can’t say I do.”

“Hmm... Well, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon, I’ll just go put these in the kitchen.”

“Oh, do you need any h-“

“No,” Wanda blurts out abruptly, startling everyone in the room. She plasters on a smile, “No thank you. How can I be a good hostess if my guest is doing all the work for me?”

“You’re right, I’m so sorry,” y/n flounders, panic clear amongst her features. “I-I didn’t mean to impose at all.”

“No apologies,” the woman murmurs quietly, a small smile on her lips and an admonitory glimmer in her eyes, “we’re going to have a nice family dinner, and everything is going to be just perfect.”

The tension in the air is suffocating, wrapping itself in a slow growing hold around y/n’s neck. Her eyes begin to water, bottom lip quivering in fear as she looks around the room that suddenly feels too big and too bright. She doesn’t belong here with these people, something is wrong, the man she came here with is not hers, and as Wanda’s figure retreats behind the kitchen door y/n makes a mad dash towards the nearest exit.

“Whoa!” Pietro exclaims with an uneasy laugh, and in a blue flash she suddenly finds herself being scooped up off her feet and tossed back down on the couch in between the apprehensive twins faster than her fried brain can even comprehend. “Not so fast there, missy. Just where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I don’t feel right,” the young woman murmurs, wincing at the uncomfortable dryness of her throat as she swallows. “I want to go home and lie down.”

“Don’t be like that, babe,” he chides with a disappointed frown, “this is my family.”

“But what about my family?” Y/n whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes that whenever she attempts to picture the life she once lived not a single thing comes to mind. “I don’t have a family.”

“This is your family now. We talked about this, remember? We came to Westview to make Wanda happy, and you don’t want to upset her, do you?”

“No,” she replies meekly, shuddering when the calloused pad of his thumb swipes across her warm cheek to remove any evidence of tears. No, I don’t want to make her unhappy, because if I do then I’m written off the show and I don’t know what will happen to me if I am. “I want to spend time with my new family.”

“Atta girl,” Pietro grins as he cups her face with both hands and brings her in for a kiss.

“Yuck!” Tommy exclaims in disgust from beside the couple, and this time y/n can’t help the bubbly laughter that escapes her at the young boy’s antics. Any memory of her previous meltdown is quickly wiped from her mind, and all she can think of now is how utterly grateful she is to be loved by such a wonderful man and be taken in by his wonderful family.

She pulls Pietro in for another kiss and giggles uncontrollably when he responds by tickling her sides, all while Wanda watches carefully from behind the scenes.

~~~

“Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate. Trapped in a state of imaginary grace.”

Her voice is quiet and serene as she hums along to the Modern English song playing on the radio, a content smile on her face as she washes the dishes leftover from dinner. It was the least she could do after the lovely evening Wanda had hosted; her sister-in-law had been called upon by the neighbor Agnes for a task that hadn’t quite been specified, so y/n was happy to tidy up while her boyfriend spent quality time with the boys. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt as happy and content as she did now— she couldn’t remember anything, really— and y/n knew then and there that moving to Westview with Pietro had been the right decision for the family, for his sister and themselves, and for the children, too. Yes, everything was just peachy keen.

The kitchen door swings open and in walks a man y/n has never seen before. He looks just as surprised as she is when their eyes meet, an awkward smile on his red face and the morning paper in his hands, and y/n slowly drops the dish she had been washing back into the sink.

“Hello,” the man greets curtly, “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”

“I’m afraid not,” y/n agrees with a bashful smile, quickly removing her rubber gloves so that she may extend her hand towards him for a shake, “I’m y/n, Pietro’s girlfriend.”

“Ah, yes...” he murmurs lowly, cautiously shaking her hand and sizing the woman up and down until she shrinks under his gaze. He means her no harm, but he isn’t sure whether or not she’s part of this cooky little play or just another victim cast under Wanda’s spell. He smiles suddenly, the gesture startling the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Vision.”

“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“May I ask where my wife is?” Vision asks.

“She went off to the neighbor’s,” y/n explains before promptly returning to her dish washing. The radio sounds distant and warbled now, the song she had been singing along to now nothing but static and jumbled up syllables, but to Vision’s dismay she doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest.

“How are you enjoying Westview?”

“I’m having the best time. Pietro and I have been talking and we might just have to hunker down in our own little place,” she says with a giggle. “It would be nice to be closer to you all.”

“I must say, having you and Pietro here was quite the surprise.”

“Not a bad one I hope,” she frowns. Vision guiltily refuses to meet her gaze.

“No, not at all. But, might I ask how you two came to be?” Vision asks apprehensively, adding on so that she doesn’t feel cornered, “I’m sure it must be a lovely story.”

“Oh, yes! I remember it like it was yesterday,” y/n swoons dreamily, a fond smile plastered on her face and her gaze casted out towards the living room where Pietro sits playing video games with the boys. She blinks once, twice, eyes never once leaving the silver haired stranger in the couch. A pregnant pause hovers over the two, the porcelain plate trembles in her hands, and Vision watches in silent horror as her eyes begin to well with tears.

“Y/n?” He calls gently, fingertips carefully brushing against her elbow in an attempt to bring her focus back to him. He removes the plate from her iron grip and sets it back carefully in the sink before turning the girl by the shoulders to face him; she still wears that same adoring smile despite the tears that silently fall down her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” she murmurs quietly, “I can’t seem to gather my thoughts properly.”

“Who did this to you? Was it Wanda? Pietro?” Vision press urgently. Y/n sways slightly when he shakes her by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to break her from her trance but still her smile remains.

“Pietro? Oh, he loves me, and I love him.”

“My dear, I don’t think you do,” the man utters sympathetically.

“Of course I do, silly. We were made for each other.”

“Perhaps you were, but not in the way you think. Y/n-“

“Please let go,” she interrupts in a soft, steady voice, looking up at him like a scorned child, “you’re scaring me.”

“If you would just let me,” Vision begins to say, fingertips reaching for her temple in preparation to break her from the spell only to be interrupted by another presence in the room.

“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” Pietro asks with a raised brow and uneasy laugh. “Hey toaster oven, you mind maybe letting go of my girlfriend?”

“Of course, my apologies,” Vision murmurs, stepping away from the girl and allowing her to run into the arms of her boyfriend.

“You okay, babe?” He asks with a raised brow. She isn’t, not in the slightest, but she has a job to do and a role to play, so she merely bats her eyes at him before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Never been better. Hey, how does dessert sound?”

“I think that sounds lovely,” Wanda chimes, her sudden appearance in the kitchen doorway startling the already present trio. Vision looks like a deer caught in headlights when Wanda saunters over and gifts him with an innocent kiss to the cheek. “Why don’t you and Pietro get the boys settled down while y/n and I prepare the dessert?”

“What a lovely idea, darling,” Vision chimes with an easy smile— y/n isn’t the only one with a role to play. “Come now, dear brother-in-law.”

“Take good care of my girl, little sis,” Pietro calls on his way out. Wanda smiles, her eyes never once leaving y/n’s trembling frame.

“But of course. What is family for? Y/n, be a dear and grab the plates, won’t you?”

“Yes, Wanda,” the girl chimes obediently. She smiles.

“I noticed you seemed a little shaken up just now, is everything alright?” Wanda asks, feigning obliviousness.

“Oh, you know, just some friendly questioning from my new brother-in-law. I’m sure he just wanted to make sure Pietro had found the right match,” she explains with a passive wave of her hand. Wanda hums softly.

“Well we don’t need to worry about that,” she notes. “You’re here for a reason, y/n. Do you know that?”

“For Pietro, and for you,” she replies earnestly, smiling when Wanda takes her hands in her own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always wanted a big family, a real family, one that would never turn its back on you or leave you behind ever again. You want a sister and nieces and nephews and love, and I’m here because I can do all of that and more for you.”

“Exactly right. Family is forever, y/n. Are you ready for the commitment that comes with being a Maximoff?”

“I’ve never been more ready,” y/n responds eagerly. Wanda smiles.

“I’m so relieved you said that,” she utters gently, pulling y/n in for a hug so that she may not see the way in which her eyes begin to glow red and waves of energy begin to emit from her fingertips as she carefully settles herself fully into the girl’s mind. She fills her head with thoughts of Pietro and family, with memories she’s never lived and feelings she’s never had, she fills her with love, and y/n is none the wiser.

“Congratulations, y/n,” Wanda utters quietly, comfortingly stroking the girl’s hair, “you’re a Maximoff now.”