#if they have only a few more days on this earth let them have some humanity before tord tears it away

[darkwingphoenix]

My world Damaria's list of this:

First off, rundown: Damaria is roughly 2.5 times bigger than Earth but bearing a gravity only .80 G (Compared to Earth)

Most of the currency is based off of kataka, the equivalent of a really big watermelon that tastes like a mix of bananas, strawberries, kiwi, vanilla and chocolate.

They're relatively pricey (Due to size and the fact a fruit takes 3 years to become ripe). They're less perishable than most fruits, taking 7 weeks for an uncut kataka fruit to rot, but 4 weeks to become too spoiled to be currency. Most modern people use Toka, which is essentially digital kataka.

One kataka is worth about 100 USD, and Toka, based off of a smaller denomination, are worth roughly 3-5 USD depending on the current economic status. The Toka isn't as strictly based off of the kataka anymore, but still has the kataka's look on Toka bills/coins (And most stores will accept kataka fruit someone drags in, mostly just to let the person not have to lug around the 100 pound monsters looking for someone to accept it as tender)

Gold, meanwhile, isn't as valuable as tin, it's still worth more, but not that expensive (It's reasonably easy to find in most regions). It's maybe as expensive as silver

Damaria's days are about 48 Earth Hours, but the clocks use 36 hours, and are 80 minutes long. These minutes are identical to Earth minutes at 60 seconds and split into 4 quadrants of 10 minutes (The hours don't fit perfectly, being set 9 minutes apart, but it works well enough no one minds)

Damaria has mostly the same seasons as Earth, but does have a brief couples weeks were, on most of the planet, it rains fire. This results in massive wildfires in many areas, forcing fauna and flora to become at least able to flee fires, or resist them. Megafauna are forced to become fire resistant, as most can't flee the biggest fires. Luckily, after the fire rains the planet casually rains super cold freezing rain in torrents for a few weeks too.

See above for the firestorms followed by freezing rain torrents

Damaria has 4 moons visible to the surface by humans, and 9 with kolari vision, and about 20 moons total. Mind you, 16 of these are ex-asteroids the size of Deimos and Phobos in stable orbits, only the 4 largest are spherical: Meliva (The biggest, slightly outsizing Earth (We're talking it's 0.01% wider in diameter at the equator) and actually holding life of its own, and even has its own magnetic field and an Earthlike atmosphere), Korai (Lava moon the size of Mars responsible for helping Damaria's otherwise kinda weaksauce magnetic field in the same way Io boots Jupiter's magnetic field: Volcanic activity leading to a lotta charge particles shot out into Damaria's magnetic field, and also boosts Meliva's slightly), Mash'Nagal (Barren moon, about the size of our own with the reflective fun of Iapetus), and Enya (Small water moon 30% bigger than Mars and 65% the size of Earth), also lifebearing). The other moons are, in size order, Laari, Maari, Gaari, Jaari, Zaari, Kaari, Paari, Naari, Haari, Waari, Taari, Baari, Vaari, Xaari, Raari, and Han.

Laari is about 100 KM wide, and Han is barely 8 KM wide. Laari, Maari, Gaari, Jaari and Zaari are all visible to kolari, but nigh invisible from the surface to humans (They'd only be visible by their transits in front of the other moons, especially Korai, which glow bright enough to see in broad daylight if it's not in front of but that'd mean Naari, Vaari, Han, Paari, and Xaari, all either more distant than the farthest big moon, Mash'Nagal, or too small to leave a significant shadow, wouldn't be discovered until we could find them with telescopes).

Damaria has some big rings, extending all the way to Pyrai in a pretty thick band. It's not as big as Saturn's, but they're still big in comparison to Neptune's or Uranus'. They're the remnants of two planets, each the size of Earth, which smashed into Damaria 4.5 and 4 billion years ago. These formed the Big Four (Meliva, Enya, Pyrai and Mash'Nagal), as well as many smaller moons who didn't experience much stability until they finally broke apart in the Big Four and Damaria's gravities, giving an insane night sky to the primitive weird water bugs and strange fish on Damaria, Meliva and Enya 400 million years ago...

...While also triggering the three bodies' first mass extinctions from the rocks flying onto them. This also triggered Pyrai's magnetism more and strengthened the system's overall magnetic field. These rings, along with the reflective properties of the Big Four (And Pyrai's natural glowing), make nights on Damaria very rarely super dark (Though they can get dim, especially when Meliva and Enya are in their new phases and Mash'Nagal has turned to its dark side, these nights are still reasonably bright, the same as a brilliant full moon)

Magical properties are really strong on Damaria, resulting in Pyrai's magnetic particles making auroras on the equator. They can extend all the way to the mid temperate zone on the regular, making the sky of a city near the 35th to 45 parallels INSANELY beautiful (The rings are at their apparent fullest at the 40th parallel, and aurorae regularly reach this far). Many thrones of power have been placed around these parallels

Most roads on Damaria are a brilliant lapis lazuli blue due to sodalite being really fracking common in rocks. Many also have lapis lazuli, sapphire, and other blue rocks.

Lots of jewelry is made from a very common small predator's teeth. The Makan-Ha is a dog-sized mesopredator more like a mix of a crocodile, snake, ankylosaur, stegosaurs, ceratopsians and pachycephalosaurs with great white shark like teeth, which was tamed millennia ago like a dog. Its teeth never stop falling out like a shark, and their owners often use them for jewelry, and many places accept the teeth like coins (Making up another part of the currency). The teeth are often used in jewelry as well, similarly to sharks' teeth, and also in weapons

In the minority of kolari cultures who practice marriage as humans would call it, Kashe'Han, Leiomano/Polynesian shark tooth swords are the primary wedding band equivalent, with almost all of the kolari societies who do human marriage using Kashe'Han. Kashe'Han use Makan-Ha teeth, and come in 7 foot and 3.5 foot versions. Most marriage kolari cultures use one or the other for length, with most using the easier to carry 3.5 footer, but ones in the Tenrare Mountains, an area known for being fraught with non-kolari trying to take the kolari over and try to kill them all, 7 foot blades are more common.

These blades are traded between couples, who take the time to separately buy they own Kashe'Han, and vendors who sell Kashe'Han will actively minimize chance encounters between couples by segregating their stores with wooden walls between the two subshops and make them men and women only. These stores will have the main crafting area near or along the dividing wall. These allow for brides-to-be, with their female family and future female in-laws, to shop separate from their grooms-to-be, who shop with their male family and future in-laws.

Almost all kolari cultures are matrilineal, with males almost always taking their wife's surname. This is a bit more complex, however: All kolari have surnames consisting of their family name (What their father takes in marriage), a slightly modified version of their mother's name, the mother name (Its official term) being gender-specific, and their father's name's first syllable, put between their family name and mother name.

For example, a female kolari named Saphyra Kaiphran with a husband named Kosmorr would have a daughter with the surname of Kaiphran kos Saphyrii, while her brother would have the surname Kaiphran kos Saphyro. This is found in almost 100% of the ones that are matrilineal, with the patrilineal cultures doing it too. Male kolari keep their mother name but take their wife's family name, and replacing his father name with his own name. So, Kosmorr may end his name with Kaiphran kos Tanmiro (His mother's name being Tanmira). If his sister Talana married Saphyra's sister (Pretty much normalized in kolari society, but uncommon due to the rarity of homosexuals overall, even if they're totally accepted), her surname would be Kaiphran tal Tanmirii.

In most kolari cultures, however, marriage is consider a selfish act, keeping each other from others. These more dominant cultures (In number) have men leave their house and enter new, unrelated ones. These males are not beholden to stay, and many young males don't staying for at most a month before moving one, many not staying a single night. They do have duties while in the house, however: They must help out a little if they are staying for more than one night, and they should also preferably mate with at least one female a week.

This is easy for young, horny males to achieve, most going way over their one female a week quota. As males age, however, they begin to seek stability over new prospects, and start to stay in a house for longer, with most at the ages of 28-32 eventually picking a house and staying permanently.

In these cultures, kolari only have their house name and mother name (So Saphyra's kids would be Kaphran Saphyrii or Kaiphran Saphyro), and males will take a house name if they intend on staying permanently, so Kosmorr would be Kosmorr Kaiphran Tanmiro.

Virginity and bastardry are unusual for the vast majority of kolari cultures. Those that use the males-entering-a-house family structure don't even consider children to have a father, as they wouldn't have known who was the dad with any sense of reliability. These cultures, therefore, treat all adult males who have lived there for a year or more as the father, even if the male hasn't had sex in that long (The quota is only for more transient males), and as such those males need to help look after all of the kids.

In more monogamous (Or less house-based) cultures, virginity isn't really considered a holy or even religious matter: For them, virginity is just a religious term to say someone is unmarried (Like in Ancient Greece IIRC). Bastardry is also way less of an issue as the father isn't as important than the mother. Therefore, with the mother being insanely easy to identify reliably without DNA testing, most marriage-using cultures have no concept of a bastard, and barely one for adultery. While adultery is a sin, it's not the issue humans make it to be, as kolari won't need to know the father as much for legal issues, as inheritance normally goes along the mother's line.

Most kolari cultures recognize 5 genders: Bio male, bio female, transmasc, transfem, and nonbinary. Some recognize more, but most recognize those 5. The bio genders are the majority, and are the norm. Transmascs and transfems are a minority but perfectly normal. They're traditionally expected to act like their true gender, but kolari cultures and societies were very quick to end this stigma after a certain point (Culturally, most were around the Victorian era when this switch occurred).

Transgender kolari are more noticeable since kolari have way more obvious dimorphism: Male kolari are facultative bipeds (Meaning they mostly walk on all fours but can rear up to use their hands for whatever) while females are 100% bipedal, and these changes start early in childhood. Gender dysphoria is way easier to spot in a child who's refusing to walk on all fours and tries to walk on two legs as long as she can, and for a boy who is constantly trying to walk on all fours efficiently yet can't.

Luckily, these changes, while irreversible after the age of 10 without magical transmutation (Which is full of risks and side effects), are at least semi-treatable with herbs, as two common herbs, which have the same quirk as dandelions in that they'll grow literally anywhere that is at least semi-horizontal, stationary, and on the ground. These two plants also grow easily in gardens, where they need to be controlled from stealing every other plant's soil.

These two herbs have chemicals in them that normally are used to deter insects, but almost perfectly match kolari estrogen and testosterone, to the point they can be used as a sort of HRT. Most modern trans kolari don't need actual HRT drugs (Stronger than chugging trans tea, as those two herbs' teas have been named by humans) or the trans tea, but many still take some. Most severe gender dysphoria does require transmutation to fix, however.

Nonbinary kolari are an essentially spiritual class. Most children who show signs of being non-binary are given to priests at a local temple to be evaluated for the clergy, and if they are accepted, they are officially adopted by the temple (But can still visit their bio family) and take on new pronouns that aren't equivalent to they/them. They begin training as priests at 6 years old, assisting other priests in their duties. They graduate into the official priesthood at age 16, and must dedicate their lives to religious worship. In more secular societies, kolari enbies are less restricted, but all are still considered part of the clergy, and devoted kolari will house them for free.

Traditionally, kolari enbies are not allowed to marry nor have children, but in more recent eras, lower-level clergy may

The young enbies are also given twice daily trans tea, which is infused with both herbs, which actually stunts their development and makes them an almost perfect mixture of male and female bodies, although the birth gender still shines through stronger, essentially making two nonbinary genders: AMAB enbies and AFAB enbies.

Kolari societies are heavily split between 6 pretty much accepting religions: Pyraism, a ditheistic religion between Pyrai and Meliva, lesbian goddesses of the sun and the moon Meliva respectfully; Korainism, followers of the goddess of the moon Korai and storms; Enyanism, following Enya, the goddess of the moon Enya and nature; Damarianism, the worship of Damaria, the goddess of the planet and basically Earth-Chan but MILF; Almaranism, worship of Almar the Bone Drakon, god of death, pestilence, disease, and the ocean; and the Cult of Mash'Nagal, followers of Mash'Nagal, god of Mash'Nagal, the night, and predators. All 4 faiths are reasonably accepting of the rest, as all of their deities respect each other.

All of these religions except for Pyraism are monotheistic, worshipping only their god while acknowledging the others as powerful, but all 4 religions have no creationist myth, as they believe none of the gods are truly able to completely control the world's creatures. Most early kolari civilizations noted artificial breeding and came to the belief that nature could do that itself, even if it took longer, essentially believing that the planet they lived on was eternal and had always been, but believed that the living beings on it developed over eons.

This belief was eventually confirmed over and over again by paleontology, although the planet being eternal was eventually found to be false. All 6 religions are actually highly focused on giving the people a knowledge of who to serve (Way more efficient as the gods are real and regularly visit) and how to do so than giving any answers, believing the gods want them to learn things themselves. As for children wanting to know why for something unknown, it's perfectly acceptable to tell them you just don't know yet.

Almar, Mash'Nagal, and Korai all don't look like humans nor kolari. Almar takes the form of a great dragon skeleton (Think a dracolich from DND), Mash'Nagal takes the form of a massively built predator with rib bones protruding from his skin, and Korai usually takes the appearance of a cloud of mist. Enya, Pyrai, Meliva and Damaria all take the form of human women, however, even though no equivalent existed for kolari to know of.

While Makan-Ha are the size of dogs like a German Shepherd, they're really more like a mix of dog, cat and tortoise behavior. While they act a lot like cats and dogs in different ways, they do still love being alone, and usually aren't begging for pets once their owners come home. They are social enough to love pets and be good with children, but they do enjoy not being always with someone. They act more like how non-cat people stereotype cats (That being they're standoffish and assholes for no reason), but do enjoy rolling up under their owner's feet and having their backs be scratched.

Essentially, Makan-Ha are the mix of crocodiles, ankylosaurs, stegosaurs, ceratopsians, and pachycephalosaur hardware with cat, dog and tortoise behavior with facultative bipedalism and limited pack structure (More than most felids but less than most canids).

Most societies, including kolari, are perfectly accustomed to the supernatural existence of ghosts, the afterlife, and their gods. Their gods will actively help their worshippers if they are given enough sacrifices and devotion to their tenets, essentially letting plants and structures survive disasters with enough sacrifices and prayers.

Most magical communication is just magical TTS texts. All you really get with all but the most advanced communication magic is just messages you hear in your head. Luckily, it's easy to make magical groupchats.

Their books are essentially wheels with easily removed shells of light plastic (Found in many plants on Damaria). These books are mostly for archival purposes, however, and most books are bound. The shell books start from a wooden base that is at most 1 inch thick, with a half inch shell placed around it by a pair of small clips. Each time the book needs more space for writing, another shell is placed, over and over again until it reaches the maximum size of 1 foot long. Each base pool can be made up to 12 feet long.

Kolari use a lot of body language, enough so that deaf or mute kolari have a minimal language barrier with voiced kolari. This is aided by sign language, so most hard of hearing kolari and mute kolari have minimal issue communication.

Kolari themselves are obligate carnivores, needing meat to survive. They're about as carnivorous as dogs.

The Tenrare Mountains are filled with kolari and herbivorous peoples who cannot eat meat and see meateating as murder, and thus see all kolari as murders and seek to kill them. Most Damarian sophonts are some sort of obligate carnivore or herbivore.

Small fantasy worldbuilding elements you might want to think about:

A currency that isn’t gold-standard/having gold be as valuable as tin

A currency that runs entirely on a perishable resource, like cocoa beans

A clock that isn’t 24-hours

More or less than four seasons/seasons other than the ones we know

Fantastical weather patterns like irregular cloud formations, iridescent rain

Multiple moons/no moon

Planetary rings

A northern lights effect, but near the equator

Roads that aren’t brown or grey/black, like San Juan’s blue bricks

Jewelry beyond precious gems and metals

Marriage signifiers other than wedding bands

The husband taking the wife's name / newlyweds inventing a new surname upon marriage

No concept of virginity or bastardry

More than 2 genders/no concept of gender

Monotheism, but not creationism

Gods that don’t look like people

Domesticated pets that aren’t re-skinned dogs and cats

Some normalized supernatural element that has nothing to do with the plot

Magical communication that isn’t Fantasy Zoom

“Books” that aren’t bound or scrolls

A nonverbal means of communicating, like sign language

A race of people who are obligate carnivores/ vegetarians/ vegans/ pescatarians (not religious, biological imperative)

I’ve done about half of these myself in one WIP or another and a little detail here or there goes a long way in reminding the audience that this isn’t Kansas anymore.

[mydarlingclaudia]

apocilypse…… simon…… fem!reader…… @vaaaaaiolet I am also going to write more of this I just had to get this out of my system first

wc : 781 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Simon always wakes up before you.

He’s a deep sleeper, he slept lighter when he was on deployment, but those days are in the past, either way, you’re a much deeper sleeper than he is.

But the first thing he does when he wakes up is press two fingers to the pulse point in your neck.

You sleep a foot or two away from him in a sleeping bag on the dirt floor, he normally wakes you up after he throws something together to eat, you greet him with the same thankful grumble and sleepy smile. He’s far from home and you’re the only person he has, you could leave if you wanted to, he could do the same, but you follow each other through each valley and mountain chain.

Simon found you a year after the end of everything, well, more like you found him. It had been somewhere in either Wyoming or Utah, but he had stepped in a deep hole some animal had dug, not having seen it, and apparently the shout he let out when he twisted his ankle had found its way to your ears. He had bristled when you walked out of the overgrown brush, expecting you to try and rob him since he was down and had dropped his knife a few feet away, but you had helped him up and dragged him over to your small camp.

He stayed with you for a week, eating the fish you cooked and silently eyeing you, trying to figure you out without ever asking. As soon as his ankle healed, he left. For almost a week he headed north, pushing himself harder to get away from you.

But you found him. Again.

It was another mistake, but it was one you made this time.

Fire spreads fast in dry, open fields.

You hadn’t meant to do it, the fire you had made had gotten too big and there was nothing you could do to try and contain it. So you packed up your things and ran down to the river.

Simon thought you were following him when the crunching rocks under your feet made you known in the night, the knife to your throat was supposed to make it clear he didn’t care for strangers.

But when you explained that you didn’t know he had been hiding out here and that you were just trying to get away from the fire you started, his grip loosened and his knife found its way back into its sheath. He could smell the smoke and the dirt on you, he figured he owed you one, anyway.

So he let you stay, neither of you slept; he was scared you’d try to steal from him (even though most of him knew you wouldn’t), you wanted to stay awake because you knew the fire would get closer by the hour.

The two of you hiked up the mountain in the morning, figuring you’d keep heading north, you could see the smoke and burnt up earth from the summit.

That was two years ago, you and Simon have found other people along the road, but there wasn’t any kind of connection with them. That and neither of you really trusted others. It would be a small brush of your pinky against his to let him know you were uncomfortable or him crowding around you when others were around, something silent to say it’s time to go.

The world ended when people started dropping like flies, it wasn’t a sickness, they just died and there were too many fingers pointing at so many different things that everything just shut down before hell broke loose. Simon was only in America because Price said he needed a vacation and jokingly suggested Vegas, Simon decided to go just for the fun of it.

You’re everything he has now, he makes sure you’re extra bundled up in the winter, makes sure you eat enough, tries to keep you entertained, tries to do the harder work for you, anything you want, he does it. He always thought he’d be a shitty husband, given his job, but with you, with nothing else to worry about except for keeping you fed, he’s not half bad.

He’s had too many nightmares where he ends up alone, he can’t go back to that. Even before the end, even when he was still in England living his life, he was still alone. The last thing he needs is for you to die in the night and bury you alone.

So when he presses his fingers to your neck and feels the soft thump of your pulse, it’s already a good day to him.

[getaapologist]

I know you love Geta's neck (and I get it too), but I have a hand kink myself, and I would love to have a touchstarved Geta with a girl who is obsessed with his hands. (But I wish Caracalla would get some love too).

Hope this will suffice!

Pour wine. Replenish empty glasses. Stand stock still otherwise. Avoid all eye contact. Do not stare at them.

This was what you were told before an amphora of sweet wine was shoved into your hands and you were thrust into the revelry, directed to the back of the room to relieve another.

They were quite thirsty tonight, someone commented.

As you approached where they sat, elevated above all others, you caught a glimpse of golden laurels before you looked down, away from their radiance lest you get yourself in trouble.

They were guests of the master of the household, a senator. Why they had to come here instead of hosting others in their palace, you couldn’t begin to guess. It wasn’t any of your business anyway. 

As you passed a small side table on one end of the long couch, you looked down at it. There were a few cups, all nearly empty. You rushed to fill them, careful not to spill. Right as you finished, a hand adorned in rings reached out, picking up one of the glasses. 

The rings were gold, large dark stones embedded in each, adorning every finger. All different shapes and sizes, they still somehow formed a coherent aesthetic. You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes traced the path of the cup in his hand. He moved it into his right hand, the wine sloshing as he let out a great laugh. 

Ruby red robes threaded with fine gold covered him, his shoulders shrouded in the thick cloth. As more laughter tumbled from his lips, he brought the cup up, his wide grin pressed to the rim, his head turning, and turning, until—stormy blue eyes, like sea glass, full of curiosity, stared back.

Feeling a chill fall over your shoulders, you quickly looked away, settling on the soft, ring-adorned hand now resting on the arm of the couch. You wondered if he’d ever worked a day in his life.

Bright eyes filled your sightline without warning, curiosity still there. You very nearly dropped the amphora, a grave mistake, to be sure. 

“More wine?” He questioned, his eyebrows lifting as he held out his cup. It wasn’t empty, but you knew better than to question him, quickly refilling the glass. You quickly continued on your way around the back of the couch, eager to leave the strange encounter. You felt flushed, embarrassed at being caught looking. 

Admiring? No, surely not. You didn’t admire anything. There was no capacity to admire when your life was work.

The other side table. Only one glass. Empty. 

Pour. Pour and do not spill. Do not look. 

Your hands were so unsteady after the encounter. So you reached for the cup, fingers brushing over the glass. 

Now pour, go slowly.

A large hand overtook yours, the heat of it travelling up your arm as the ringed fingers touched yours.

“No more.”

An involuntary response, you looked up. You were frozen in place, honeyed walnut eyes keeping you there, the dismissive way they regarded you morphing into a passing interest.

“Emperor?” The high, feminine voice shattered the stare, and his eyes darted up to appraise the woman perched on the arm of the couch. 

Sucking in a breath, you returned to yourself, hoping for the life of you that no one saw your exchange. 

Either of them.

You moved to withdraw your fingers from the empty cup, muttering an apology, dear Emperor, forgive me, but his hand didn’t move. Instead, his grip tightened, and you glanced around, as if looking for help.

“You look frightened.”

You didn’t dare look up this time, lest you get caught up again. Instead, you studied the earthy jewel tones of his rings, the stones likely carefully chosen, plucked from the earth to sit atop the fingers of an Emperor. 

Fingers that led to knuckles that led to the back of his hand. Tendons visible as his grip remained enduring, the veins passing over them standing out, blue green beneath his fair skin. 

His wrist was wrapped in a thin silver band, polished to a shine. 

Would it be cool to the touch?

His fingers pulled yours away from the cup. His grip was firm but not unwelcome. HIs palm was hot, hotter than his fingers as it pressed to the back of your hand, fingers wrapping around the side of your own palm, pulling it ever so slightly towards him. The tendons flexed as he adjusted his grip, as if he never intended to let go.

Foolish.

“Look at me.”

You obeyed, trapped at once by the sharp look he regarded you with. Surely someone was observing this, would run to tell someone that you were incapable of performing a task as simple as pouring wine. 

“What is your name?”

His words startled you, and your own name tumbled from your lips in a gasp, feeling unfamiliar.

“You belong to Thraex?”

You found yourself nodding, eyes expanding your view of him, noting the soft wave to his sunny, golden-spun hair, laurels nestled among it. The way his full, pale pink lips were slightly parted, as if he might be breathing a bit heavily himself, or readying himself to speak again.

You waited for him to release your hand, eyes falling to where he held it. He turned your hand over, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as he inspected your palm. He might find your toughened skin, calluses, whereas his were smooth, soft, unsullied by hard labor.

“Go and collect your things. You will return with us.”

You found your voice in your shock, eyes snapping to meet his. “E-Emperor?”

The corners of his lips curled up in amusement, the glint in his eye maddening. “Would you like to stay?”

“No,” you answered without thinking.

He looked satisfied. “Good, little lamb. Now go.”

[ficsinhistory]

Sonic 4: A theory!

Hello! So, I've been having theories about the fourth Sonic movie for a while now and I think I now have enough brain cells to put it all together!

(This is literally me putting this post together lol)

The basis of everything you will see here will be based on what we have already seen in other films, in the games and in my theory that the fourth film will be about love, time and trauma.

To start, the Sonic films as a whole already speak of love. Familiar, fraternal, parental, timeless love for those who have passed away.

However, the fourth film would dive fully into this.

If Sonic 3's theme line was "The light shines even though the star is gone", I think Sonic 4's will be: "Love transcends pain".

I believe the focus of the film will be on how, although our past may mark us, we can and must heal ourselves since only then will we move forward into the future. And that the best way to do this is not alone, but with the help of the love and support of those who care about us.

That this is the greatest help of in life: love. In the face of trauma, mistakes and frightening possibilities. Because love transcends everything, hate, guilt and even time.

And to do this we cannot give in to fear and paranoia, but choose to be open and honest with our feelings, not repressing or rejecting them.

SONIC

Yes, our dear blue hedgehog!

Sonic has evolved a lot in the last few films, learning to find and accept his parents, friends, and family as a whole. He has learned to accept his own powers, to take responsibility, and to not let pain change him.

He also still has a lot of trauma from his childhood days that he hasn't faced.

The third film proved that this boy still has very raw wounds and that Sonic is aware of his inner turmoil, of how the loss of Longclaw still affects him.

The point is: we never really see him talking about it or finding a way to overcome it in a healthy way with his family. Even though he is canonically the character who listens to others and helps them get through their darkest hours as this wonderful post by @iwasbored777 points. And no matter how much he ignores it, it can and will come back to haunt him.

We saw this when Tom's life was threatened. Because although seeing his father almost die was terrible in itself, what pushed Sonic to go so crazy was the still-untreated trauma of losing Longclaw and the loneliness that followed in the next years. And besides this fiasco with Master Emerald, we also saw it in less serious ways when he went off alone after Shadow in Tokyo too.

Either way, this is a feeling that is clearly bubbling under his skin ready to explode.

Sonic still has some of the mentality he had when he lived in the cave and trauma from the loss of his first maternal figure. The constant need to escape that leads him to want to do everything alone and without consideration for anyone else.

And that's because he's never dealt with that past, covering it up with humor and literally running away from his feelings. Sonic has never faced his past head on. Because it's painful.

But it affects him. A lot. To the point of being a danger to himself and others.

And that's where Amy comes in.

I theorize that in the movies, Amy is a native of Little Planet, a planetoid that visits Mobius (the location of Sonic's island) for a month every year, and that Sonic would have known her before everything happened.

Before Longclaw died and he was thrown alone to Earth. From simpler times. A friend he had on its last visit before everything went down the drain.

Of a time that he (nor she) would remember, despite a sense of familiarity, not until later. When it hit him hard Amy inevitably became a reminder of a past that could no longer be ignored.

When he cares too much about her and wants to help. When the person who is a great friend and he starting to have some very strong feelings for with is also a living reminder of his most painful memory (I believe they will have more romantic tension than romance but I will talk about that later).

She would be, in his arc, a catalyst to face the past that can no longer be hidden.

Because if Sonic wants to be a better person and save the day, he's going to have to face his past head on. He has to be honest with his feelings. All of them.

Especially since things are going to get ugly. Really ugly.

Because I think Sonic is going to have to deal with GUN and Robotnik and Metal Sonic all at once, making everything more urgent and overcoming his childhood trauma crucial. Since resolving this mess will possibly lead them back to Little Planet and his island itself.

Speaking of the machine, we will have Metal Sonic making Sonic face the past, but in another way: in self-consciousness of his defects.

Metal is an AI programmed to be better than Sonic, without any of his supposed imperfections, made in his image.

A villain who will surely increase in danger, adapting more and more. Mimicking the qualities with more and more refinement. A perfect enemy. Without empathy, without any honor, humor or common ground for Sonic to use, wanting a clash of skill pure and simple.

He would be perfect in Sonic's eyes. Something he knows he isn't . He abandoned his family to seek revenge. His recklessness nearly cost Tails and his parents their lives, with Tom even caught in the crossfire. He betrayed his own brothers. As far as he knows, Shadow died because of him. He wasn't fast enough to catch up to Longclaw.

Sonic's self-loathing will hit him hard.

And he'll have to accept his mistakes and move on. Something difficult for a teenager who has a habit of bottling up his emotions and who will deal with the consequences of his actions in catastrophic proportions (yes GUN, is about you 👀).

Not only that, I believe that Metal Sonic will be the first antagonist that Sonic will not be able to change. For the simple fact that the robot is pure hatred, created with the obsession of always proving superiority and that clearly has no interest in a fair fight, seeing as his introduction was trying to shoot a distracted Sonic in the back .

The robot doesn't even call him by name, just blue hedgehog.

Metal Sonic thinks he's the real Sonic and he's going to prove it at all costs, even coping his heroics acts (Sonic OVA?? In my theory??? More likely than you think).

And to add up, it's going to be a race against time.

Because Metal's artificial intelligence adapts, learns and reproduces everything that's thrown at him.

And isn't only him but also an army of copies under Metal control and that clearly he don't care. Quite unlike the friends and family that Sonic cares so much about and they're sure to be in trouble with the crazy machine no doubt wanting to use them against their organic counterpart.

And with all these enemies, this kid is going to have insane pressure on him.

The worst part? I think this will manifest as overprotectiveness of his family and a misconception that he has to do everyone on his own.

In the third film, Sonic nearly lost everyone, whether it was due to external factors or because of what he did. And he certainly doesn't want to go through that again. But without healthy coping mechanisms, Sonic will think that dealing with everything without anyone's help will keep everyone safe.

And here we back to Amy having a crucial part: because both will be on equal footing.

She's not family that Sonic has to protect, she knows how to do it herself. Not only that, she's the cavalry. The person who's obviously been fighting these killer copies the longest, willing to help, and thank God knows what she's doing.

Amy will be a safe haven, someone Sonic won't have to feel responsible for all the time. And someone who will encourage him to open up and seek help from the great family he already has, which would lead to some touching moments with all the Wachowskis. The best family on wheels would be in focus! Especially Maddie!

Sonic will face his traumas with his first mother and who better than his second mother?

Having such a bad memory of Longclaw's death, it seems only right that Maddie would play a relevant role. But of course, the whole family would help, strengthening the bonds even more.

Which is great because with the Time Stones in play, I believe there will be a plot point where Sonic could choose to rewrite time so that Longclaw is never killed, but that would mean he never found his new family.

After all, it was when he lost his first mother and came to Earth that he met Maddie and Tom. What if he could change everything to stay with Longclaw? Would Sonic want that? Even if it could cost the happiness of others and the loss of his new home?

And that's where accepting the past and focusing on the future comes in.

He will have to run, but not from his feelings, but using them as fuel to move forward.

This will be the greatest test of Sonic's maturation: showing that he accepts the past - not clinging to it - working on his traumas with the intention of looking to the future. Appreciating the good memories and that it is not our past mistakes that define us, but what we will do from now on.

AMY

Don't fear, Amy Rose is here! The girl finally shows up!

I wanna start with that, although the film keeps her core, Amy's story and her behavior will be radically different from the games. Both to fit into the film format and to avoid her most problematic aspects. But of course, always keeping what makes her so iconic!

In the franchise, Amy is the character who represents unconditional love and perseverance. She is determined, kind, and never gives up. Amy also shows compassion to everyone without distinction, expecting the best from everyone, no matter how flawed they are. And of course, she is also a hopeless romantic and a firm believer that some things are meant to be.

Despite all the changes and new powers, this is and will always be her greatest asset and power, including in the movies. If movie Sonic is already empathetic, movie Amy will radiate that. She'll be feminine, kind and overflowing with care as she always was, as well hot tempered, angry and passionate.

After all, it's Amy Rose, the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve.

If Sonic doesn't talk about his feelings, Amy thrives on hers.

Love, friendship and connections, these are her skills. If you pay attention to the scene where the metals are being massacred, Amy has traits that allow her to identify with each Wachowski sibling: she is fast like Sonic, strong like Knuckles and with technological gadgets like Tails; in addition to her own individual trait which are her tracking and stealth skills.

A way for the film to say that she has characteristics in common with other people while having her own personality.

Strong interpersonal relationships are one of Amy's strengths and I believe they expanded this side of her a lot here, with her relationship with the Wachowski boys and Tom/Maddie being very important to her. Amy will help and will be helped emotionally

And ofc, she's totally here for all the friends she can get!

I imagine her listening to Tails and Knuckles having fun and pass time in common interests. Maddie? Instant click, especially since I think they'll have similar personalities, with both of them talking about fashion, movies, and similar things. Tom? The girl saved her son, he'd break her out of prison if need be. Sonic? So many things that I have a section just for them. Even Shadow isn’t safe.

These relationships are essential because, of course, not everything is as simple as it seems. All the characters have traumas and have gone through horrors, it would be no different with this pink hedgehog.

As mentioned before, I believe Amy will come from Little Planet. Not only that, I think her main powers will be time manipulation with her chaos energy.

You might be wondering: isn't time travel Silver's thing?

And I answer, my dear friend, Silver does travel through time. But, his main ability is psychokinesis, not time travel. Even in Sonic 06, Silver's time travel is not an innate ability of his, but with the use of the Chaos Emeralds and even that is a mess in the canon in general due to the inconsistencies.

Amy would come in here. With the 5th film confirmed, I believe that Silver would travel with the help of some part of her power. This explanation would keep the narrative simple and without so many holes, especially with a complicated trope that is time travel. In addition to showing Amy's narrative weight in the long term in the franchise, with her presence being a turning point in the story.

Besides, temporal manipulation is an extremely powerful power and since the energy of chaos comes from emotions, no one is better than the character most connected to feelings in the franchise and time travel in general. Sonic CD is based on this and has several media that connect Amy to the Time Stones, Little Planet and time travel in general (more on that later).

But getting back.

As a native of Little Planet and with insanely powerful abilities, Amy would be responsible for the Time Stones or at least have a strong connection to them. Which would put a target on her back.

Longclaw protected Sonic for a reason, and I believe someone did the same for Amy, raising her in a similar way. And I'll say more, besides the similar mission, I believe Amy's guardian knew Longclaw. After all, the warrior owl was a guardian of the Master Emerald, a very powerful gem. And who better than her to meet other guardians of other gems and powerful hedgehogs?

Not that it mattered to this girl, after all Amy is curious and adventurous. She canonically hates boredom and the confines of a mundane life. Surely, when the planet got close to Mobius, this girl would find a way to escape and explore there. Which would lead to a meeting with Sonic.

I don't believe they would necessarily be childhood friends, but rather that they would see each other during the month that Little Planet was there before Amy inevitably returned home, with the promise of seeing each other the following year (like a summer friend!).

Except Amy was there in the last few days before he and Longclaw were attacked. Imagine a baby Amy searching for a baby Sonic only to find a destroyed house? Also, the comics say there is a memorial for Sonic and Longclaw.

And I believe it was her doing.

Sonic was one of the only friends the girl had and it breaks my heart to know that she might have held a funeral for him and Longclaw, definitely because she doesn't want them to be forgotten, with Little Planet's culture probably places a high value on valuing memory.

And things would get even worse. Because I believe the reason Amy is on Earth is because Little Planet has been taken over…by Ivo Robotnik.

Yes, I believe that Eggman didn't die, but was teleported through time and ended up there because the place is a temporal convergence point, dominating everything with Metal using it as we saw in the concept arts, taking advantage of the fact that Little Planet is technologically advanced (as shown in the games) in a domination that would be overwhelming and brutal. Planning to take advantage of the temporal properties of the place to orchestrate Sonic's death and control the Earth.

Metal Sonic would then be built with alientech from one quill of Sonic's and one quill of Amy's.

That's right, I believe Ivo captured her at some point during the invasion before she managed to escape - possibly with the help of her guardian - because the Metal Army also travels through time and has pink energy.

 Amy would then be sent to Earth to protect the Times Stones by her guardian for the same reason Longclaw sent Sonic - a distant place in the universe - before dying, asking her to keep everything safe.

And that would leave the little girl devastated.

Amy would lose everything she has ever loved or known and is still on a strange planet with no one and a burden on her shoulders.

Sound familiar? Because it is. I theorize that Amy's past will be very similar to Sonic's and this will make both of them help each other and identify with each other.

I've said this in another post, but I think that while Sonic and Shadow are the same person dealing with different circumstances, Amy and Sonic are different people...dealing with the same circumstances.

Amy's current state will be very similar to Sonic's in the first film, except that Sonic came here with the mindset of protecting himself while Amy came to protect others, with a mission to use her powers to prevent any event that leads to a definitive bad ending, as well as guardian of the jewels of her lost home.

And you can ask: how are they both on Earth at the same time if Amy came from the future?

Remember I said that Ivo traveled through time? Yeah, I don't believe that Robotnik went to the future...but to the past.

He arrived on Mobius after Sonic had already fled and Longclaw was dead. And with this change, Amy was sent to Earth to fix things, not knowing that Sonic is alive or even remembering him due to her age at the time and the fact that it was a traumatic event, before the future got worse and irreversible.

But her powers were a mess after that trauma.

Amy Rose in general would be a MESS . Girlfailure for real!

If Sonic didn't handle isolation well, Amy was a disaster!

I imagine her always fighting the Metal Army - traveling between points in time and even different places - always trying to stop them somehow and how this limits her. It tires her. How everything always repeats itself endlessly and she can't think of a solution without putting thousands of lives in a rewrite of the universe.

She would grow up near New York, obsessed with musicals, rom-coms, magical girls and everything else stereotypically feminine not only because she loves it, but to keep her sanity, observing it all from a distance. Because just like Sonic, she also placed herself in self-imposed exile.

But to protect others instead of protecting herself.

Amy was instructed to always fight and she does. She has a duty and Metal Sonic already has an advantage in time because of her. I believe Amy blames herself for Metal Army having its power and she doesn't want to hurt anyone else, in addition to the trauma of losing the house itself.

And guilt is a strong feeling. And feelings are the basis of the powers of chaos, which has scrambled the use of hers. In particular, the vision of the future.

Yes, I think Amy can see the future with her temporal manipulation.

She would use her chaos energy to see the timeline and how things would unfold. Imagine her eyes glowing pink but instead of a powerful blow coming out what is happening and her surroundings changing to show her enemies next steps. Just like Garnet from Steven Universe and an advantage in battles since she deals with an AI that learns from mistakes.

Except her trauma ended up interfering with them and now the local girl has some involuntary and messed up visions.

And yes, it would be these powers of prediction that showed Sonic in the park. That's why she was able to rescue him, Amy knew this would happen because her powers trigged.

(And no, Amy doesn't remember Sonic (nor he her) when they meet. Even though that feeling of similarity hovers between them, but without definitive memories. They were little when they met and between Sonic probably avoiding memories of their time on Mobius like the plague and Amy living on a moving planet that passes through places all the time, besides not expecting that her dead friend is alive these two ended up forgetting. Especially since forgetting memories is a symptom of trauma.)

And Amy, meeting Sonic and the Wachowskis, would begin to heal with company and support. In addition to facing the past now that Sonic is there too.

I also don't think her mission is to protect Sonic. But after rescuing him, images from the future started to appear more and more and resolves to sticks with him because she believes that he's some destined hero sent to help her by fate. The girl would go from random imagens sometimes to full time pop-up scenarios with the arrival of this boy that triggers her powers. Well, he is the key to chance after all.

Amy may think that Sonic is the answer to solving her problems (ironic because I believe that Sonic will be as lost as she is and thinks that Amy, with all her combat experience, has the means to solve things lol) and plans to resolve the situation begin to be made, although it’ll be chaotic with Gun, Metal Sonic and Ivo hot on their tails.

Perhaps Amy has an admiration for Sonic after know his acts as a great hero (because I'm sure Sonic would be talking about how he saved the world multiple times) just to later see the trainwreck that the boy really is and remember Sonic as her until then dead friend.

What she’ll relate to, because I think her biggest enemy will be herself.

Amy would blame herself for the various horrible events that have occurred and seeks some sort of atonement at any cost. Maybe feeling that she has disrupted the timeline, considering that Little Planet's culture can be very oriented towards reflecting on the agency of our actions in the consequences and what can be - or not - fate.

Ofc that in the end the answer is that we made our own fate and yada yada but the girl👏🏼 is👏🏼 struggling👏🏼! Hell, after being the last refugee of her planet, Amy possibly have survivor’s guilt! 

Perhaps she even believes that if she died everything would be fine, since in the grand scheme of things there would be other more important variables. That she should be dead from the beginning.

And the relationship with the Wachowskis would make her realize that she matters, that she can change everything not just for others, but for herself too.

Just...Amy being a beacon of unconditional love and kindness who finds the love she offers in others *sobs*.

GUN

I hate GUN, all my bros hate GUN.

They're horrible and while I we know that already (a huge list of their atrocities here, courtesy of @iwasbored777 ), I believe that this will reach another level in the fourth film.

Because Rockwell will probably be the new leader after Walter's death.

We know that GUN is xenophobic and violent. They are ruthless towards those they call aliens and anyone else who gets in their way. Hell, the only reason Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles live with the Wachowskis is probably because Walter pulled some strings, believing it would be easier to keep them under control and avoid another fiasco like Shadow was (@sairenharia has a phenomenal post about it.)

And with Rockwell in the head, the Wachowski family is already on thin ice.

It doesn't matter if they always cleaned up their mess or that GUN was shady from the beginning. Rockwell and those prejudiced agents wouldn't care about that.

And the arrival of Metal Sonic would be the excuse they were waiting for.

You see, Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow and Amy are just regular kids. Aliens, yes, but kids nonetheless. They want love, friends, family. Man, they've all experienced grief! They're just as human as Tom, Maddie or Wade.

But GUN doesn’t care about that. Not when these military men only see living weapons because they are different. The dreaded “other” they couldn’t touch…until now.

Because just like in real life, GUN doesn't just want these aliens gone. They want their powers, their abilities, without dealing with the child. Because these invaders aren't worthy of being treated like normal humans, but their strengths are still theirs to exploit. So how do you convince them that those who have done nothing but save lives are a threat?

Dehumanization. The worst part? They have the perfect arguments.

There are powerful killer robots made in the image of the alien that wiped out power in the entire Pacific Northwest and destroyed important human historical monuments and ruined parts of the planet. Bad aliens who destroyed part of the moon and helped to charge the eclipse canon in the first place. Threats. Monsters.

Therefore, they need to be hunted and contained by good humans.

If love is the theme of Sonic 4, the antagonists will bring hate as a counterpoint.

GUN has always been like this, but the fourth film would be the pinnacle. A real witch hunt against Sonic, Amy, Tails and Knuckles. Shadow too.

Especially with Amy having the powers - or the technique - of time travel, an asset that Rockwell would certainly be eager to get her hands on, making the situation even more difficult for these kids who just want to stop a madman from enslaving the human race. Black Doom may not be a thing in the future of the franchise, but there is someone as low as GUN.

I can see them making biased videos against the dangerous aliens, asking people for information in exchange for rewards. They manipulate Stone who is mourning Ivo and bring him to their side. Of terrifying plans with assets as powerful as chaos energy and time travel.

Their headquarters are in London, the largest colonizing empire in the world, for God's sake! There's no subtlety!

That's why I really want to see a confrontation scene between them.

I want to see Amy who is nothing but loving - the embodiment of love in the franchise - who lost her home to a colonizing human and is risking her life and the lives of everyone she cares about by throwing in Rockwell and all these agents' faces that they are nowhere near this image of protective heroes. That they are power-hungry lunatics. Not that bad - worse than Robotnik.

That they would rather lock up children in greed rather than focus on the problems.

I want Shadow back and beat the crap out of a bunch of agents. I want to see him calling out Gun for all the suffering he went through, for killing Maria, for kidnapping and taking advantage of him.

See Sonic mad because those people is threatening his family. The same people he had to hide because he knew they would hunt them, a kid, down. Just they did in Hawaii.

I want to see her, Sonic, Tails, Knuckles and Shadow in a fight with them to show that yes, they could decimate humanity if they wanted to. That they have the power to do so and could not be stopped. But that they, who GUN calls monsters, have nothing but empathy. They are better than that.

I-

I just need to see these kids expose their hypocrisy.

(And if Ivo didn't survive, it was certainly them who created Metal as a contingency measure.)

SHADOW 

I have no idea how Shadow will appear in this movie. He's not dead and he's still out there, is all we’re informed of. 

BUT I know I want him interacting with the rest of the Colorful Bunch! I want to see him wreaking havoc on a Gun HQ. Mourning Maria and coming to terms with the chaoa.

He and Sonic reunite.

C’mon, the blue boy thinks he's dead and possibly vice versa, they need to talk about the last movie and Shadow joining the team could help him turn the page. Find some support. Help Sonic with his guilt just like he did for him.

And I want Shadow to fight with the team! He's insanely powerful, the ultimate life form. Combine that with Amy's time manipulation powers and Sonic's speed and we're in for some insane action, I know!

Not only that but I think the franchise is planning something big for the hedgehogs in the franchise so things could get even more interesting with their interactions!

Just give the boy some hot chocolate, a home and a warm blanket.

TAILS AND KNUCKLES

These boys would be in the trenches. After the whole Master Emerald mess, Sonic would be a wreck and clearly having problems. That he wouldn't talk about. Tails and Knuckles will have an important impact here by repaying the kindness Sonic has always shown them and supporting their brother who is not doing well at all. Not only that, I think the film will focus more on the bonds and interactions of characters, so we will see more of them and their pasts. Both Tails and Knuckles had devastating backstories that deserve to be addressed. With the arrival of Amy and the core four complete, it will be their chance to shine and we have cute and emotional interactions between them.

Not only that, but also necessary conversations between the 3 brothers. I believe Tails and Knuckle will have their individual moments with Sonic and all together. In addition to one with Amy who would be very close to all of them with all these events.

These boys will shine, I know!

IVO ROBOTNIK

Everyone's favorite problematic person!

He's... complicated. Jim Carrey agreed to return for Sonic 4 and most of my theories have him in a major role. So yeah, I'm assuming Ivo survived.

As I mentioned before, Ivo would be responsible for taking over Little Planet, killing several people and causing Amy to escape when she went after her powers and the Time Stones. Because, you see, just because he saved the Earth, that doesn't mean he's a good person.

Ivo saved the world for Stone . For that one person who cared and loved him and that he cares about. Only now Ivo has been sent through time to an unknown planet, without Stone and with brand new traumas.

Of course this maniac's defense mechanism will turn to chaos and destruction.

The only family he had never cared, and he's cut off from the only real support he had thanks to himself, who ignored Stone's pleas in the name of something that turned out to be false. And the guilt is a strong thing, even for Ivo.

But he would never acknowledge it.

So, Eggman would seek to fulfill his needs for love and family with what he has relied on his entire life - machines - in search of some control that he has clearly lost. Ivo would embrace the thought that love is a weakness and connection only makes you lose. He delves into hatred and makes it the source of his greatest creation: Metal Sonic.

Ivo blames Sonic for everything and just like in the games, he makes a version that he can control to feel better. At the same time, Metal Sonic would also be a loyal servant who supports him unconditionally. A failed attempt to fill the void left by Stone in a machine that will destroy everything that the blue hedgehog loves for ending his life. He wants to make Sonic pay and it will be insane.

He uses the Metal Army to bring suffering to Little Planet and fulfill his dream of tyranny, domination of lower forms. After all, Robotnik is a colonizer. A scientist with delusions and desires of grandeur and hatred for aliens.

But this will not bring the comfort Ivo seeks - hate is not love - and he would feel that victory is unsatisfying, hollow, without Stone along. So he would deceive himself further, convincing himself that fulfillment will come with more control, and go after the Chaos Stones and Amy, consequently.

Ivo deals with guilt with hate instead of love. He is on a planet that controls time, but his inability to face the past and his own mistakes would prevent him from truly healing his traumas. On the contrary, he would cause more pain and continue the cycle. Wanting to rewrite reality at all costs, regardless of the consequences.

And you'll find out the hard way that hate is no substitute for love and you can't escape the consequences of your actions when Metal Sonic rebels and takes over both Little Planet and the army of inferior Metals made of it.

*Slam hands on a table* Yes pals, we would have Neo Metal! And the heroes having to team up with Ivo once again to stop him with Stone in tow much to Robotnik's dismay.

Talk about your haunted past, huh?

(A little aside about Agent Stone: I have no idea what his role will be in the next film. He could be the big bad, a minor bad, Shadow's new handler, I have no idea. But I do know he's going to meet Ivo again, and it's going to be tense to say the least. Feel free to ramble on.)

Ivo would also be crucial to both Amy and Sonic's conflict.

He would be the one who would be a mirror for the blue hedgehog, someone he could become if Sonic doesn't deal with his traumas correctly: someone who would rather remake time-space than accept past decisions just like the creator of the machine that tormented him throughout the film.

Ivo would also be the test of Amy's love and selflessness. This girl believes that everyone can change. But, would she have any mercy for the one who took everything from her? Amy wouldn't lose control like Sonic, she has too much respect for life for that, but would she listen to Ivo if she needed his help like the boys accepted at the end of the third film?

Either way, Robotnik would be one of the biggest emotional cores in this clash of hate/love/time.

And no, I don't believe Eggman will ever redeem himself. He's a bad person, and he always will be. But even bad people can love, that's a basic need for humanity not something you earndd.

If anything, at most I think Ivo would find peace, not redemption in the end, finally reconciling with Stone and perhaps a reprogrammed Metal Sonic. All together on the run forever as a family.

Sounds like a happy ending to me either way.

METAL SONIC

Shoutout to all the fans of this little guy! I love this metallic hedgehog!

Metal Sonic is iconic ! He's a machine custom-built in Sonic's image. He plays dirty, is full of hate, and has only his sights set on defeating his organic counterpart, with no trace of empathy.

I love him and the movie can do so many cool things with him!

For starters, with Metal being built with both Sonic and Amy's quills, he has both attributes.

The fastest creature in the universe was the source of his speed ability and general traits of Sonic and Amy to be able to travel through time and her your cpu's insane ability to predict actions. He would be insanely powerful with his chaos energy punches, shapeshifting ability, and off-the-charts adaptability.

With both of their Chaos energy signatures in his database, Metal is able to track them both...anywhere, which makes the two hedgehogs prime targets.

Although Sonic is undoubtedly the one who lives in Metal's head rent-free.

He would be made by Eggman to kill Sonic, equipped with an advanced AI with the ability to learn, collect and reproduce attacks, cataloging them in databases as it was in Sonic Heroes. And of course, going back in time as many times as necessary to destroy his enemy. In addition to chasing Amy and getting the Time Stones.

Yes, Metal Sonic would have a beef with the two teenage hedgehogs, he's nothing but a hater at heart.

Metal, thematically, would be Sonic without the emotions. Without the attachment, loyalty and most importantly, empathy of the blue hedgehog. The robot would behave as the polar opposite of him, replicating only his chaos control abilities. And, as the film unfolds, he would become obsessed, thinking he is the real Sonic and that the fastest creature in the universe is just a cheap and inferior copy that he needs to defeat.

I think that, in the beginning, Sonic would see him as perfect. Reflecting his desire to suppress his emotions, Metal would be the carefree, completely selfish version. Yes, Sonic is not selfish, but perhaps he thought it would be easier if he didn't have to deal with his emotions. That they hinder more than they help, whether it's his anger leading to revenge or sadness leaving him vulnerable.

Because that would be one of Sonic's problems: the fear of being emotionally vulnerable.

But the lack of love is bad for anyone, including Metal, and it would be this hateful attitude focused on just killing Sonic that would lead to ruin.

He only thinks about destroying the hedgehog at any cost. Whether it's shooting him in the back, kidnapping and decimating an entire planet...or rebelling against his creator. Metal Sonic is incapable of feeling or understanding empathy or love.

And that will be his defeat.

I theorize that Metal will have his own agenda throughout the film, wanting to gather information from everyone - especially the movie's hedgehogs: Sonic, Amy and Shadow - to go Neo Metal. He would improve himself in search of the Time Stones and be able to rewrite history so that Sonic was never in it and rule the universe himself.

I believe that when he becomes Neo Metal and goes on a rampage to destroy Sonic and get the Time Stones, the heroes' plan will rely on exactly what he doesn't expect: camaraderie, affection and unconditional love between them. Metal is rational, not understanding attitudes such as staying behind to help his family or fight for his brothers or sacrificing himself for others. It's counterproductive. Even though he has an army of clones, he doesn't understand teamwork because these copies of him are just pawns to him.

It's going to be Sonic, Amy, Tails, Knuckles and Shadow fighting relentlessly despite the odds that are stacked against them because these kids care. About each other and about the Earth. Even if it's counterintuitive. Even with GUN hunting them. Hell, he'll even see his creator with them.

And the worst part is that Metal Sonic will never change. He was programmed to be born out of hate, out of the belief that love and connection are weaknesses. That's just who he is. And Sonic will never be able to give him a pep talk in his darkest hour to change his mind. Some people are just bad and don't want to change... even if they are capable of some good.

I think Metal's personality will be similar to the OVA. He can't stand Sonic, but he's built on his personality. So I think we can see Metal having good deeds despite everything. Remember, even bad people are capable of love to a certain extent and Metal is not stupid. He has a complex existential crisis and a tragic character. He has some foundations for change but the lack of real emotions only makes him emulate. And it gets worse with his obsession.

This little guy is going to make me cry.

SONIC AND AMY

Fun fact, I’m not a Sonamy shipper.

I haven’t played the game or read the comics. But the way that I know that Amy and Sonic can be written in this movie has a grip on me, especially with the Sonamy route kinda confirmed. Really, my writer's brain is filled with possibilities and I know this is a controversial topic and I understand, but I👏🏼 have 👏🏼thoughts !👏🏼 

Sonamy (and Amy) as a whole are very much a product of their historical context and place of creation. It doesn't please everyone and I recognize problematic aspects that exist in this dynamic, even if it has changed over the years, as well as the appeal of the various good parts.

I would like to thank in advance all of you who are reading who don't ship either because you prefer other couples or don't like Sonamy regardless of the reason in general or are just terrified of reducing Amy to a love interest for being here and hearing a different side. You are the real one ✊🏼

To begin with, what I'm going to cover here is limited to Movie!Sonic and Movie!Amy. Both of them are different from their game counterparts, taking on relevant aspects like narrative role and core personality but ultimately having their own interpretation. Just like the appeal that the duo will have in the fourth film.

Okay? Okay.

Many people rightly fear that Amy will be reduced to a love interest in a forced romantic storyline, especially since this is her first appearance. And being limited like that would be horrible for the only girl in the main group.

However, I don't see that as the case. Not only do I believe that will not be forced, but she will be essential to the story happening . Their relationship will not happen because "boy and girl fall in love." No, Sonic and Amy having feelings for each other will help the film develop in a way that not having that would make the narrative weaker.

The relationship between Sonic and Amy will be thematically relevant and deeply developed.

Why do I think this, you ask?

*Grabs 500 slides* I'm glad you did! 😃

First, the beginning of this connection starts differently from games.

Amy appears saving Sonic instead of the other way around as happened in the games, which shows that their dynamic will be profoundly different, as will Amy and Sonic themselves.

In the films, Amy will have her own arc, goals, problems and desires, making her a complex and interesting character in her own right. In addition to an altered backstory, which has already been theorized earlier, which helps to give structure to this dynamic.

She's clearly not there just to pursue Sonic and be his romantic partner. Of course, she'll probably develop feelings for him, both because that's part of the character's original essence and because a romance in itself doesn't make her or the script bad.

It's about execution. And both Jeff and the writing team have already shown that they are good at that.

The writers in both the introductory scene and interviews have made it clear that the days of Amy's worst writing are behind her. If Amy's origins show her as a damsel in distress who evolved into a heroine in her own right, Amy and Sonic will be equals from the start.

They can both defend themselves and each other. Plus, I believe Amy will be an important character in the franchise in the long run, further reducing the fear of her being just a “love interest.”

Second, I think the writing will focus on the characters' connection - not the romance itself.

My guess is that if the writers really want to sell this couple as they intend, they won’t rely on the “stereotypical romance.” It wouldn’t work. Instead, they’ll opt to show their connection, affinity, and mutual trust, as well as a shared backstory. The bond without any label.

They will be friends before anything else.

Because there is potential, a lot of potential, running that way.

I don't believe the chosen route will be that Sonic starts to have a crush on Amy just because she's a girl because we're talking about extremely traumatized teenagers here.

Let's be honest, they don't know shit about romance. These two probably won't even be aware that they're in love and will attribute the typical feelings of have a crush to just being a regular friendship (yes, denial, they'll go into denial). Which in my opinion is better because, despite the typical butterflies and meaningful glances, there wouldn't be the pressure of something more and it would give both of them space to get on the same page.

Sonic has abandonment and trust issues. Even with Tails he had some reservations at first. If anything, he's terrified and suspicious of Amy right after she destroyed those robots that almost killed him.

Amy is no better, possibly coming from a destroy home and a stressful life, and while very empathetic, she can also follow a route of not being very honest about how she feels and alternates between trying to be always cheerful - almost with a toxic positivity - and moments of anger and strong breakdowns. You know, since she is canonically short-tempered and angry.

There's no way these two are going to fall in love at first sight for no reason. No, they're going to have history, substance, and - my personal favorite - ✨ narrative parallels ✨.

As I've theorized before, Amy and Sonic have known each other before and have similar pasts. And if that's true, I believe it will be this feeling of reminiscence that will allow the two to develop a bond despite any mistrust.

This is the feeling Sonic will feel when he meets Amy for the first time, not infatuation or anything like that, but lingering familiarity. The impression that he's seen her before. And their bond would grow deeper from there.

Sonic wouldn't fall in love with Amy because she's a girl, he would fall in love with her because they were  - are - friends, because they would have things in common and would like the peace and quiet that that brings. Sonic would fall in love with Amy because that's Amy and he wouldn't have anyone but her.

And the opposite would also be true. Amy would see all the flaws, quirks, and traumas and stay anyway because it's Sonic, and she doesn't want to change him. She wants to be by his side, by the home he would become for her. On the side of this brave, kind and empathic boy.

They will not only have strong common ground, but unlike any other dynamic presented before, with a lot of potential to grow.

Since I think this Sonamy will be a slow burn.

I theorize that the fourth film will lean more on the romantic tension and friendship that this connection will provide, with anything more serious being left at the end and pursued in the future films. That this mutual understanding, this very distinct connection that they have will be explored, far beyond any label.

This will be the high point of the dynamic: the somewhat dubious nature between friendship and romantic love between two teenagers who went through similar upbringings and traumas and are fundamentally so different but who still find support, love and a safe place in each other unlike any other regardless of everything.

Sonic and Amy will bring out sides of each other that no other character could and that will be fascinating to watch.

Third, the potential for conflict .

If you watch the games, you know that despite her meteoric love for Sonic, Amy never held back from standing up to Sonic when she thought he was wrong. And I think that will be one of the highlights of this duo.

Amy and Sonic are profoundly different and this will undoubtedly cause friction. Which is great!

No healthy relationship has people who agree all the time and that causes growth. And to be honest, both Sonic and Amy are going to need to hear other sides and they're kind of the only people who can reach out to each other.

Starting with Sonic. The third film showed that this boy, despite loving his brothers very much, doesn't listen to them. Especially when he gets something in his head. The Master Emerald clash proves this. Not even Tails or Knuckles were able to make Sonic change his mind.

But Amy could do it.

And not because of the power of love like Sonic's crush, no. Amy could do it because this girl is brutal! This pink hedgehog has a strong temperament and is canonically the most emotionally intelligent character of this colorful bunch and she knows it. Not only does she know it, but she would use it.

Because the thing with Amy Rose is that she's not afraid of Sonic, yes he is her hero and references yes but above all she sees them as equals. And Amy is not afraid at all to match his energy when it comes to arguing.

If she decides this kid needs a reality check, she will do it in a heartbeat.

Because Amy is in touch with her own emotions and Sonic will desperately need to do that.

On the other hand, Sonic would do the same to Amy.

As stated, I theorize that she will place very little value on her own life in the name of what she considers the greater good, something that there is no way Sonic will let pass. He would be horrified at how Amy does not see herself as important, that someone who claims to care so much would leave her loved ones behind.

And honestly, Sonic has had enough trauma with an important loved one sacrificing themselves for his well-being (looking at you Longclaw 👀), and people sacrificing themselves for the greater good in general (Shadow 👀). Amy isn't going to be another person he's going to let slip through his fingers.

Aside from the less intense forms of differences, with Amy pointing out and advising Sonic that he needs to be more open in a calm conversation and Sonic saying that Amy needs to slow down and think more about herself, maybe one day there will be fun with the whole family gathered in the middle of the mission.

And that's the thing. Being differents, Amy and Sonic help each other see other points of view that they wouldn't have with anyone else otherwise. And that's so cool!

They would be each other's voice of reason and let's face it, they 're going to need it.

Fourth, these two have the narrative on their side.

God, I love this one. It adds the necessary thematic tension to the story and gives weight to any interaction. There's a reason Sonic and Shadow are such a big part of Sonic 3's story.

And with Amy and Sonic it would be no different.

As I said before, if Sonic and Shadow are the same person dealing with different circumstances, Amy and Sonic are different people dealing with the same circumstances.

And this is fertile ground for interesting interactions and intriguing personality clashes.

Amy and Sonic would have the same upbringing and situation: they lost their guardians very early and lived in isolation. However, the small deviations in their individual stories and their similar yet different personalities would bring another level to the narrative.

They share the fear of having to deal with painful memories and the guilt that such traumas generate. They have responsibilities to fulfill with their powers and even the same madman hunting them in real time.

But Sonic ignores emotions and sees them as a hindrance while Amy embraces hers. Sonic was told to protect himself while Amy must protect others. Sonic grew up isolated because he was guided while Amy imposed it on herself. He had quiet, boring days while she struggled through life in a big city.

Still, the loneliness is the same. The agony after years of just watching life pass you by is the same. The longing for connection is the same.

Amy and Sonic would never be the same person, yet they are similar where it matters and that makes me FERAL! They not only know what the worst parts of each other's lives are like, but the path that leads to the desire for the best ones as well. And that potential chemistry between them that makes me vibrate like a chihuahua.

They won't ignore each other, they couldn't ignore each other.

Do you see the vision?

Not only that, the affinity these two have in the films has the potential to be insane .

They can match each other freaks, your honor!

I know these two have similar inside jokes and tastes. Amy is your average teenage girl, she does the poses from magical girl manga while Sonic has superhero catchphrases. She's a musical junkie and sings (quite well) all the songs by heart, just like Sonic loves action movies. She would get his cheesy references . Hell, I can see her laughing at those awful Sonic jokes because these two traumatized teenagers have the same sense of humor.

To the level where Tom, Maddie, Knuckles, Tails and Shadow would look at each other in horror thinking “oh my god, there are two of them” (Shadow especially and with more stress in his voice and expression).

But it goes beyond the most superficial interests.

Again, Sonic in the movies has a lot of trauma. He saw his first parental figure killed because people wanted his powers, which led to 10 years of isolation that almost drove him insane. If you notice, all the most important people in this blue hedgehog's life are selfless and good people, both to people and animals. If there's one thing he values in people, it's kindness and goodness.

And guess which character has these defining characteristics? That's right, Amy Rose.

In return, Sonic can inspire Amy with his heroism and free spirit, with her admiring his world-saving actions and his love for his family. This is crucial because Sonic himself in this version is extremely empathetic, something that someone who cares about others as much as Amy would take into account.

They complement each other. They are compatible. They help each other.

Not only that, with their shared past, the bond between these two reaches a new level because only Sonic and Amy knew each other before everything went wrong. This part that will never come back and that both can use to help each other overcome what happened towards a better future.

We can see Sonic convincing Amy that no, she doesn't have to sacrifice herself and do everything alone because she has him, all the Wachowskis. See Amy, in Sonic's darkest hour , helping him and supporting him.

Then we have the ✨ parallels ✨.

God, the writers can destroy us with these.

We would start with the backstory. Friends separated by tragedies beyond their control. Loss of parental figures. Observing one's own life from the outside.

And then we have the similarity with Tom and Maddie.

Look me in the face and tell me the couple with similar temperaments are like these two with the same color scheme are not a narrative parallel. Tom, who is impatient, helpful and restless like Sonic, and Maddie, who is kind, caring and full of personality, does not resemble these two hedgehogs at all.

Tom and Maddie have elements of companionship, dynamics and even a history of sacrifices that they both made for each other to be used narratively. They are the mirror of what Sonic and Amy can be in the future. And that makes me foam at the mouth . It would also give a narrative role and depth to both of them, especially Maddie since she deserves her time to shine and would be one of the many good chances.

They could show how this kind of love requires effort and sacrifice, but can be rewarding. This would let Tom and Maddie shine as parents and guides to the potential young romance, even with their own love story told to help.

(Tom and Maddie met and fell in love because they saw each other every summer, you're going to take this hc out of my dead, lifeless hands).

But what drives me wildest is how they're able to give the running joke of Amy always being able to find Sonic and go after him no matter where he is a whole new meaning .

It's about the symbolism of Sonic, the boy afraid of abandonment with super speed to the point of moving through time and found a family, discovering a refuge in the deep bond with Amy, the girl who can find him anywhere because knows time like anyone and wants  a place to belong.

Is about how they understand what hurts the other and know that they can help.

About how Amy can give the unconditional love that Sonic is so desperately after and he can give her the companionship and family she needs and desires to thrive.

How Sonic, the child who always lends a helping hand and is empathetic to even the most despicable enemies finds a person who does the same… for him .

Someone who had his life literally destroyed by an army made in his image saying that it doesn't matter if he thinks he'll always end up hurting the people he loves, because it's not true. And even if it did , they - and his entire family - would get through it together. Because she - his entire family - loves him.

That he is worth it.

I- *Sobs violently*

THE COLORFUL WACHOWSKI BUNCH

Oh boy, the Wachowskis are going to go through the trenches in this movie, I can feel it. The dynamics of this family are going to be chaotic.

If the previous problems were external, I believe the tensions in the fourth film will be internal .

For starters, Sonic will be going THROUGH it.

The consequences of the stupid things he did will definitely come back to bite him in the butt. I believe that even though his brothers have forgiven him, I don't think Sonic has completely forgiven himself and that will cause some serious self-loathing.

We'll have GUN after him and his entire family, using as an excuse, among other things, the destruction he caused in his little revenge rampage. The moon is permanently destroyed. The odds will not be in his favor.

Then, Metal Sonic will appear. A seemingly better, problem-free and perfect version. Accompanied by an equally perfect army that goes after his family that Sonic fought so hard to keep safe, making him face the possibility of losing everything to no one but himself. A better and faster version of himself.

And to top it all off, he will have the possibility of a BAD FUTURE weighing on his shoulders, where not only he but the entire galaxy could be enslaved and/or die if he can't resolve the situation.

I theorize that for the first time since Longclaw died, Sonic is starting to think that maybe...he's not fast enough.

Or the good enough brother, son and hero. And maybe that will start to make him distance himself from everyone to protect them. And yes, not even Tom, Maddie, Knuckles or Tails would take it well, trying to make him see reason and always giving reassurances.

The family would strengthen bonds with Sonic learning that past pains cannot be changed, but love can help you overcome them and look to the future.

Relevant because as I already mentioned, with time travel, Sonic may be faced with the choice - thanks to the Time Stones - of being able to rewrite his life with the change that Longclaw never died this time (nor Shadow being imprisoned or Gerald burning the Earth, of course). But that would mean he would never find the family he has now.

Which can be a dangerous dilemma, not because Sonic doesn't love them, but between unresolved trauma and the thought that everyone would be better off without him - it can be a tempting thought. He'd have the home and family he never should have lost and no one else would get hurt (of course, this is a result of trauma - almost all the Wachowskis would be miserable).

Tom, Maddie, Tails, and Knuckles would remind Sonic that no, their lives are better with him there. Nothing can change that. Tails would be suffering, Knuckles would never have found peace, Shadow would still be suffering, and Tom and Maddie would never be as happy as they are.

And then comes the other big change in the family dynamic: Amy Rose.

See, Amy is a wild card because she's totally different from any other character.

She is a character who will not be treated as a family member or an official sibling. She is someone who will bring a new perspective and dynamic. A normality in the chaos, someone who brings a vision full of love and empathy but with a fresh and outside perspective, which will help a lot.

Starting out, she and Sonic will have a shared past that none of the other characters have had before, as mentioned. This will create a strong foundation based on mutual security. Amy's actions will affect Sonic in a way that makes him softer and more open. And in return, Sonic will share his family, the sense of home that he is so grateful for.

Leading both of them to heal together from the traumatic past, along with the rest and generating cute scenes.

Because this family is going to have their hands full!

As I said before, she has traits in common with her siblings and come on, Amy - and all of us - deserve all the platonic relationships too! The 4 of them are the core group so it's no wonder they all get along well. Not to mention it's an ideal way to get rid of the image of Amy Rose as just a "love interest".

I know Tails and Knuckles are going to be the brothers ever. Not only will they tease Sonic for having a crush, but they'll see how much better their brother is doing and be grateful to Amy.

Not only that, but I'm a big fan of the Amy-Tails-Knuckles siblinghood! Those are her brothers, your honor! It's her strong older brother and her smart younger brother! Amy has sparring sessions with Knuckles and robotics afternoons with Tails! Above all, I believe that Amy's actions can help Knuckles and Tails heal as well. Both boys have backstories that have affected them, pasts that her empathy and sympathy could help them find common ground and deal with (Shadow wouldn't escape this either, Amy has the same friend-for-all policy as the Wachowskis).

Tom and Maddie are going to go through it too. Between the weather and GUN confusion, being the responsible adults™ for all four of these kids is going to be WILD.

After all, will this couple of parents discover that their children's new friend travels through time, sees the future and is almost an empath??? 

And that their middle child, who is going through an existential crisis being chased by a literal evil doppelganger and the government, may not only be falling madly in love with her but have already met before??? And she comes from a living satellite planet with stones that rewrite time and reality???? And this girl, like their boys, also has something clearly wrong with her???

Since yes, I theorize that Amy's altruism will have a dark side to her arc and have a part with the Wachowskis.

She is not a person with a tendency to protect herself but others, a trait reinforced by her mission. And what happens when someone like that finds a family to care for? Strong sacrificial tendencies and very little self-preservation.

Amy loves so much and I believe she would give her life to ensure the protection and well-being of those she cares about. After meeting Sonic and the Wachowskis, after getting to know them and becoming attached to them - knowing everything they've been through - if she comes to a point where she has to walk away from them or sacrifice herself to protect them, she will do it.

She doesn't want to die. But she would gladly do it to save her loved ones. And I'm sorry, but if your general instinct is to die... you need therapy.

In Amy's case, the almost overwhelming concern and unconditional support of the local family 😊

Yes, self-sacrifice is noble and all, but this is likely to be concerning. All the Wachowskis would do whatever they could to prevent anyone else from dying to save the world.

Shadow will also have a handful.

I really like this boy and want him in the movie, although I fear there may not be time because this boy needs a family! Not only that, Amy is kind of important in Shadow's life and it would be criminal not to see the two interact.

Just like Amy, he wouldn't exactly be one of Tom and Maddie's children. Depending on how his story plays out, he might even find a home with Stone.

Not only that, Sonic needs to know that he's okay. Because as far as everyone knows, Shadow is dead and he deserves better. I can't stop picturing Sonic and Amy all over this poor traumatized hedgehog with so much positivity and motivational speeches that he almost wishes he'd died in space. Shadow with the rest of the heroes would be really cool, and with GUN being one of the enemies, the ultimate lifeform can finally have a less violent reckoning.

But there is still a reckoning to be made.

Not only that, the theme of love and trauma would be great for Shadow to heal from as well. Both in the form of Sonic and with Amy, who canonically reminds him of Maria, he can finally find new people to care about.

Yes, that's my Shadow-Amy siblinghood AND cousin Shadow agenda.

And with the movies possibly starting to explore the universe, what better way to do that than Black Doom's son!

Just…give me these kids interacting and destroying enemies.

And yes, neither Shadow nor Amy would be adopted by the Wachowskis. Shadow has his own things going on, maybe with Stone, wandering to know the world I don't know and Amy would probably go back to her home on Little Planet after all, or stay in New York or somewhere else in Green Hills.

But they would still family. In their own types and ways but still!

Final considerations

Thank you so much for reading this huge post with my thoughts. Feel free to send me questions and add your own thoughts. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

[lesservillain]

strange lights masterlist

summary: the truth is finally revealed

cw: none

wc: 6.3k

The clock ticked slowly throughout your whole shift. The dreaded anticipation of the events that would unfold later today haunted you throughout the night and seeped into your morning, only growing as the hours went by. Was it the thought of being alone with Eddie for the first time since your last encounter that was giving you butterflies, or was it the secret you were sure you had discovered about him that was making your stomach churn. Either way, you couldn’t wait for 4 pm to roll around.

“You doing okay, kiddo?” Bob asks as he punches some numbers into the register next to you.

“Yeah, why?” You ask, coming back to earth.

“You’ve been staring at the clock all day. If you wanted the day off you could’ve asked me. I think I would have been okay by myself.”

“No, no,” you say, waving your hands defensively, “I just have plans for after work is all.”

“Ah, yeah, I remember when I used to have plans for a Friday night with the boys.” Bob has a distant look in his eyes when he speaks. It surprises you someone so down to Earth as Bob used to have wild nights out with his friends in his hay day. “Just stay safe out there. Even if it was an animal that killed those hikers, doesn’t mean that there isn’t scary people in this town.”

“Don’t I know it.” You swallow the lump in your throat thinking about everything that you’ve figured out about Eddie. The fact that he texted you just when you were sure you’d uncovered the truth still unnerved you if you thought about it for too long. And the fact that he never responded when you asked him how he got your number didn’t settle well with you either.

“Well, there is only five minutes left in your shift, why don’t you go ahead and go. I think I can handle it until Eden gets here.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting to seem desperate to leave your shift.

“Yeah, you’re a hard worker. Would rather let you go a few minutes early than make you suffer any longer.”

“Thanks Bob,” you say, pushing away from the counter and running off to the break room to clock out. You wondered if Eddie was already there waiting for you or if you’d have to wait awkwardly outside for him. 

As you walked out the front doors, you looked around to see if you could find his car. But it dawned on you that you had no idea what he drove, so you just stood there for a moment contemplating what to do. Maybe if you texted him--

Suddenly, a large van came barrelling from around the parking lot. It was an old beater van, with loud music playing from it that you couldn’t quite recognize. You watched as it pulled up to the walkway, coming to a screeching halt in front of you. The driver leaned over, rolling down the window until you could clearly see them.

“Hop in,” Eddie said as he turned his music down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. You examined him carefully as you approached the vehicle. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke billowing out of the driver side window and into the air above. His other hand was on the steering wheel, knuckles almost white as he gripped it. Was he feeling as anxious as you were about this whole thing? 

You opened the van door and stepped into the passenger seat, putting on your seat belt. Just as soon as he heard the click, Eddie was taking off. The speed at which he was driving seemed reckless for a parking lot, and only got worse when he got to the road. Your nerves were through the roof as he wordlessly bobbed and weaved through the steady Hawkins traffic.

“You don’t have to go so fast, I’m not going anywhere,” you said when you could finally muster up the courage to speak. Eddie looked at you with wide eyes before easing back in his seat.

“Oh, sorry. Bad habit,” he says as the van starts to slow down to a more reasonable speed. His grip on the wheel lets up a bit, watching him as he puts his cigarette butt out in a little ashtray he has in his cup holder. There was barely room for the butt because it was filled to the brim, in desperate need to be cleaned out.

Even with the slight shift, Eddie still seemed tense. You wanted to say something to him, but the words in your brain weren’t forming in your mouth for some reason. So you just watched as he continued to drive, going all the way through town until you started to see trees. The way the woods began to thicken gave you a wave of nausea, realizing he was taking you somewhere isolated. Was this it? Is this how you die?

“W-where are we going?” Your voice barely a squeak as you finally speak. Eddie’s eyes dart over to you for a moment and he begins chewing on his fingernail nervously.

“Just to a spot where we can talk in private.” You didn’t like the unsure tone of his voice as he talked.

“Why does it need to be in private?”

You didn’t get an answer, Eddie just simply kept driving until you reached your destination. 

He pulled into a small lot off the side of the road and parked. You watched as he undid his seat belt and opened the driver side door. You followed suit, undoing your own seat belt and going to open your door, but it was already opening. You flinched as Eddie appeared by your side, fearing the worst. But he just stood there, his hand outstretched as if offering it for you to take. He had an unreadable look on his face that make you a little unnerved, but you took his hand regardless and let him guide you out of the van and onto the dirt floor.

“Follow me,” he said, dropping his hand from yours and starting off towards the woods. He wasn’t bringing anything with him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t already have something waiting out in the secluded woods. Your instincts were telling you not to follow this man, that even if he wasn’t the monster you thought he was, that he was still fully capable of overpowering you and killing you out here. You thought about how sad your father would be to get the call that his baby girl had been brutally slaughtered only a few months after moving back in with him. 

“Are you coming?” Eddie says, popping back into your vision as his hand waved in front of your face and pulls you from your thoughts.

“I don’t know, Eddie…”

Eddie chuckles. “Smart girl,” he says taking a step back. “If you’re worried about me killing you, just know that I wouldn’t be waiting around for you if I was. There’s no one else out here, so I wouldn’t have to worry about your screams.”

“Well, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” You say with a laugh. But you have to admit his words did make you feel a little at ease with yourself. 

“Just stay close behind me,” Eddie says, waving you to follow him. “This is a lesser known path, so watch your step.”

“Do you come out here often?” You ask as you follow him into the thicket.

“I do, yeah,” he says as he steps around the debris with ease. His steps are airy, like he has the path memorized. “It’s peaceful out here. Far away from civilization.”

“Do you come alone?” You ask curiously. You take a step and suddenly you’re tripping on a rogue root coming from the ground. Eddie turns quickly, just as fast as he had that day when the car came hurtling towards you. But all he does is catch you from your fall, ice cold hands against your skin as his hands grasp your arms. The action instantly reminds you of everything you looked up last night. Of the looming questions you needed answers to. 

“H-how much further?” You say as you straighten up, his icy touch leaving you wanting more as he pulled away.

Eddie clears his throat. “Just a little more. There’s a clearing just up ahead.” With that, he turns back around and continues on, moving more quickly this time. Just like the last time you followed him in the woods, you felt like you were struggling to keep up, but did your best to keep his pace, Eddie looking back at you every once in a while to make sure you were still there.

Just when you were about to ask him if he was lost, he suddenly pushed through some brush that led you to a clearing. As you examined it, you became breathless at the beauty before you. It was filled with flowers and tall grass, and you could only think that it would be more captivating if the sun had been able to peak through the clouds and shine down on it.

“Wow,” you say, moving to stand next to Eddie.

“I know right? Told you it was a good spot.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

The two of you stood there in silence, taking in the view. The urge to reach your hand to his was there, but you refrained, reminding yourself why you were there in the first place.

“So, Eddie…” You don’t look at him as you speak, the situation becoming too real as the boiling point begins to tip over.

“You want to know why I brought you here?” You nod and Eddie sighs, taking a few steps into the field before turning to face you. It was too much to look at him right now, so you kept your vision to the ground and waited for him to speak again.

“I guess I’ll just come out and say it. I heard you’ve been asking around about me and I need to know why. What about me has you so interested in what I do in my spare time that you ask my family and friends about me?”

Well, that’s not what you were expecting.

“I’m sorry, is it a crime to ask about someone who has kissed you not once, but twice now?”

Eddie shifts where he stands, clearly uncomfortable with being called out. “I know and I shouldn’t have done that, because that clearly bothers you to the point in tying to dig into my personal life. So for that, I apologize.” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re saying sorry for kissing me? Eddie, I’m not upset that you kissed me. If I’m being honest…I really liked it. That’s why I’ve been asking about you. I just want to get to know you better.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’m not the type of person you want to be involved with. And I shouldn’t have led you on by allowing myself to indulge in you twice. But I…” His words trail off, and there’s a mix of pain and uncertainty written all over his face. He looks at you, eyes darting between yours as if he’s trying to find some answer in them that isn’t there.

“That’s not fair.” You take a step towards him. “It may not be my business, but you shouldn’t let other people’s words keep you from enjoying other people’s company.”

“No, it doesn’t have to do with any of the small minded people in this town. I just…I can’t get close to you. I shouldn’t even be friends with you.”

“But why?” You plead.

“I just can’t,” he turns away from you, back facing you as he stares out into the field. You think for a moment, and decide you need to cross the line.

“It’s…it’s because of what you are, isn’t it?” 

Eddie stiffens where he stands, fists opening and closing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His words come out as cold as his icy skin.

“I-I think you do know.” You take another step towards him. “I think…I think I know, too.”

“I’d love to hear it then,” he says, temptation in his words.

You take a deep breath in, trying to find the courage to say the words out loud. If you were wrong, you’d sound like a total idiot. But you were sure there was something up with him. It was the only way to explain all the strange interactions between the two of you unless you were going crazy. Which, at this point, you might just be.

“Your…your skin's pale as snow and cold as ice,” you start, eyes boring into his back as you speak. “You move incredibly fast. You have some kind of super strength that I can’t explain. Your eyes…they change color. You don’t eat anything, and I’ve only ever seen you order a black coffee that I don’t even know if you drank. And you dress and act like you’re…stuck in the past.” You trail off, recounting all the things you’ve seen and heard about him. Eddie doesn’t respond, standing still as stone as if he was a statue in front of you. After a moment, you speak again, “Eddie…how old are you?”

He doesn’t say anything at first. After a beat, he finally speaks up.

“Twenty.”

“And…how long have you been twenty.”

Another pause.

“A while.”

You gasp. Eddie finally turns around and faces you, a look of anger on his face. But you don’t falter, standing your ground.

“I know what you are.”

“If you know, then why don’t you say it,” he spits, venom in his tone. You look down again, and you feel your breath starting to quicken. This is it.

“Vampire.”

The air suddenly shifts, all your danger senses starting to go off as the way Eddie looks at you shifts.

Then, he laughs.

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you say, getting frustrated at his change in mood.

“You’ve been hanging around Heather too much.” He says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

“No, I figured this out on my own,” you say firmly, “I’m not letting you try and gaslight me again.”

Not a second later, Eddie was directly in front of you. It scared you, making you gasp.

“Alright, if you’re so sure then…Tell me, what do vampires eat.”

Nervous heat washed all over you, causing little beads of sweat to bubble at your hairline. “You-you won’t hurt me.” Eddie chuckles, giving you a smirk.

“So sure are you?” He steps closer until the two of you are touching, chest to chest.

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid?”

Are you afraid? 

“No.” You say plainly, looking up at him. Eddie looks down at you, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. You lean into him, letting your eyes close as you anticipate him kissing you. You feel him lean in, his breath is hot on your lips. But, they never meet. You feel his hand on your arm again and your eyes snap open as he begins to drag you through the woods.

“Where are we going?” You stutter out, barely able to keep up with him.

“You have to see me…you have to see me in the sunlight,” is all he says before stopping abruptly. He pulls you onto his back, carrying you as if you were feather light, and takes off. The speed at which he is moving is inhuman, impossibly fast as he bobs and weaves through the woods with an unnatural precision. You barely have time to process everything that’s happening as the world seems to be passing you in a blur. Eddie effortlessly climbed and scales rocks and trees as you climb higher up into the mountains.

Once he finally stops, you can see that you’re on the edge of the cloud bank, a ray of sunshine showing through and illuminating the surrounding area. Eddie sets you down, leaving you standing there as he walks closer to the light. You start to panic, seeing him getting closer to the exposed sun, thinking that he’s going to kill himself in front of you. “Eddie don’t!” You shout, but he’s already stepping into the light. You prepare yourself to see him go up in flames under the light…but he doesn’t.

It’s like…millions of tiny diamonds were set in his skin. The light reflecting off of them and shining brightly, creating a harsh visual for you. You moved your hand in front of your eyes, trying your best to maintain your eye contact on him, but failing.

“This is me,” he says, throwing his arms up dramatically.

“It’s…it’s beautiful,” you say, mesmerized by the sight.

“Beautiful? You think this is beautiful. It’s a curse. It’s…the skin of killer.” Suddenly Eddie is gone from your vision, reappearing next to you in a flash. “I’m a killer.”

“Eddie--”

“I’ve killed before.” Eddie circles around you as he talks, moving so quickly you can barely keep track of him. “I wanted to kill you that night out by Skull Rock. When I tasted your blood on my tongue. I’ve never wanted a humans blood more in my life.” Eddie’s words hit you like bricks, making you reel back at his confessions. Then he’s gone again, up above you on the rocks edge. But just as soon as he was there, he shifted to the other side of you. He grabs a heavy root sticking out of the ground and yanks on it, pulling the whole tree from the ground and throwing it over the mountainside. 

“Eddie, please calm down!” You shout, trying to reason with him.

“Calm down? How can I calm down?” He was in front of you again. “I don’t know what to do here! I’m exposing myself to you, a human, and all for what? So you can go back into town and tell everyone what I am? You think they’ll believe you? Heather and Barb? Your dad? Nothing you tell them wont make you sound crazy.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, feeling the cold under your touch. You were surprised you were even able to catch him with how sporadic he was moving, but he seemed to calm down in your grasp.

“Hey, listen to me,” you say calmly, looking him in the eyes. “I’m not going to tell anybody. It’s clearly something that you don’t want others to know, and it’s not my business to tell. I promise you I won’t say a word. Okay?” Eddie’s eyes meet yours and you can feel him trying to read you to see if you’re telling the truth. He grabs your hands and pushes them off of his face, letting out a frustrated groan as he does.

“I can’t…I don’t know if I can trust you. I can’t read your mind.”

“Well, yeah, no one can read minds,” you say with a shrug.

“I can!” He shouts, punching into the side of the mountain hard enough that it cracks. “I can read minds! All of them! I hear everyone’s stupid thoughts all day long! All the vile and disgusting things people think to themselves, I can hear it! But you…” He points a finger at you, shaking it out of anger. “I can’t read your mind. It’s like radio silence. It’s the scariest…and most comforting thing to experience for me. To be in another persons presence without hearing what they think of you. But the thing with you is…” He rushes towards you, his hands wrapping around your skull as he leaned in close. “I want to know. I want to hear what you’re thinking about me. It kills me.”

“Then just ask me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’m not an enemy here.”

Eddie pauses before speaking again. “Are you really not scared? After everything I’ve said and done, are you not completely terrified by me?”

You shake your head in his grasp, “No. All I see is someone who is scared themself. Someone who has never had the chance to put himself out there to someone else before. Someone in desperate need to be their true self for once in their life.”

Your words strike a chord with Eddie, and the smiles. A genuine smile. His hands shift either side of your face and he leans down into you, pressing a kiss against your lips. It’s cold like the first bite of a popsicle, but gradually gets warmer. You kiss him back, bold enough to let your tongue swipe against his top lip. He graciously obliges, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue into yours. A heat blooms in you and as the kiss turns into something more passionate.

Eddie finally pulls away, his eyes shining as they look into yours. You smile at him, too giddy to speak. “I have a bad feeling about you,” he says and that makes you laugh.

“Bad in a good way?” You ask. 

He nods, giving you a smile. “Like you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Aren’t you technically already dead?” Eddie huffs out a laugh at that, straightening up as he does.

“I guess that’s true. But I meant more of a metaphorical thing. Like you’re going to be the end of an era for me.”

“What kind of era? A sad and lonely one?”

“Mhmm.”

The two of you laid in that field for what felt like hours just talking about each other. You learned that Eddie was in fact turned in the 80’s by a vampire at a metal concert. He was taken in by Dr. Brenner after he found him feral and feeding off of a homeless person in the middle of the street. Eddie told you that when you turn, you stay feral for a while before you come back to your senses.

“I was out for months. Martin had me tied up in his basement the whole time, bringing me bags of blood to feed on from the hospital he worked at. I don’t remember anything. I just know I woke up confused and covered in blood…”

“That must have been terrifying,” you say, brows furrowed with concern.

“Yeah, that’s putting it lightly. I didn’t know what had happened to me. The last thing I remembered was that other vampire biting me and passing out.”

“Was it painful?”

Eddie nods, spinning a ring on his finger as he speaks. “It felt like I’d been poisoned or something. Like by body was shutting down. Most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder. Eddie rests his head on top of yours.

“S’alright. Nothing can be done about it now. I try and look on the bright side about it when I’m feeling down.”

“What about the others? Or is that too personal?” You ask.

“Eh, I mean, it’s kinda complicated. Nancy, Robin, and Mike were all attacked in the same night when a vampire broke into their house. They were rushed to the hospital Martin was working at and he knew what happened to them, so he turned them, too. El, on the other hand…” Eddie’s words trailed off and you looked up at him expectantly. “She’s a whole different story. She’s an original.”

“An original? What does that mean?”

“El is short for Eleven. She was the eleventh child that Martin changed.”

“Like, on purpose?” You ask. Eddie nods.

“Martin…he had adopted a boy, like, a long time ago. He was really sick, and Martin did everything he could to make him better. He was doing some alchemy type shit and, wouldn’t you know it, created something that worked. But…it changed the boy. He seemed to slowly get better, but one day he attacked Martin and turned him.”

“Wait, Dr. Brenner made the original vampire?”

“Mhmm,” Eddie says with a nod. “But when Martin was changed didn’t have the same feral effect like everyone else does. He also doesn’t get affected by human blood like the rest of us do. He kept the boy satiated by bringing him livestock from a local farm. The boy eventually got better, went back to "normal", and Martin did tests on him and found that he had been cured of all his afflictions. So, Martin considered it a success.”

Your jaw had to have been on the floor hearing all of this. The same man who treated your wounds at the hospital made the original vampire? What a small world. “So he kept making more vampires?”

“He didn’t know what he was making. Thought it was just a cure with some rough side effects. He adopted more kids and turned them without knowing. Not all of them made it past their feral stage. But, El did, and he decided to keep her under his wing this whole time. She’s hundreds of years old, but she’s only aged, like, ten years or something in her whole span of being a vampire.”

“Wait, she’s aged? I thought vampires stayed the same age forever?”

Eddie shook his head. “No vampires still age. We’re still somewhat human. Just different in some ways.”

“Woah, have you aged any?” You ask, looking him over. He still looked fairly close to twenty if you were to guess his age.

“I don’t think so. I’ve only been a vampire for, what, almost 50 years. I think it takes a while to start actually showing aging. That boy that Martin turned first, it’s been such a long time since that happened, but he only looks like he’s maybe in his late thirties.”

“He’s still alive?” You gasp.

“Oh, he’s still alive alright. He’s like the head vampire. Calls all the shots.”

“Oh my god, is there a little vampire mafia?” Eddie laughs at your question, shaking his head.

“It’s not a mafia. But there are certain rules that vampires have to follow or else they face punishments.”

“This is so crazy,” you say, turning over on your side to face him. Eddie follows your lead, propping his head up on his hand. 

“There’s a lot that you humans don’t know about. It’s honestly for the better. Some vampires slip up and humans find out, but most people just call them crazy and move on nowadays. It used to be an instant death sentence to find out about a vampire.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel very good,” you say, a little anxiety building up in your chest.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says, bringing an icy hand to your cheek, “I won’t let anything happen to you.” His words made your heart flutter in your chest. You take his hand and bring it to your lips, kissing his knuckles. Eddie smiles, watching you with lidded eyes.

“What stuff do vampires do that’s different from humans?” You ask, admiring the rings on his fingers.

“Well, one thing we don’t do is sleep. I try and zone out to get close, but it doesn’t always work. I really miss sleeping.”

“That would be awful. I love sleeping.”

Eddie laughs, “Don’t become a vampire then.” 

You look at him through squinted eyes. “We’ll see,” you say teasingly. 

Eddie rolls his eyes at you before shifting to sit up. He looks at his watch and his eyes bug out of his head. “Holy shit, it’s already almost eight. Hope your dad wasn’t expecting you to come home right after work.” 

You sit up instantly and pull out your phone but there was no reception. Thankfully you told your dad you were coming home later, but you weren’t expecting to be out until dark. “We should probably get going.” Eddie nods and you follow him back to his van. He opens the door for you and closes it for you once you get in. He rounds the front with a lightening speed before hopping in and starting the van up. It takes a couple tries to start, but you exhale when it finally starts.

“Sorry, she’s as old as I am,” Eddie says, smacking the dash lovingly.

“How long have you had this thing?” You ask as he backs out onto the street.

“Longer than you’ve been alive,” he says with a smile. You roll your eyes and watch the street as he drives.

“Why don’t you get a new car? One to keep up with the times?”

“I’m pretty stuck in my ways.”

“Dustin said you’re terrible with technology, too” you say teasingly.

Eddie snorts, “Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m getting any younger. I do my best thought. Texted you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, that’s true. It makes sense why it took you forever to respond, though.”

“It’s not because I’m technologically disadvantaged that it took me forever. I was just…nervous.” He says the last part quietly. You watch as his fingers pick at a loose thread in the steering wheel.

“Why were you nervous?” You ask him.

“Because…I thought I was going to come out here to tell you to stay the hell away from me, when I want the exact opposite. I can’t explain it, but you’re on my mind all the time. Being around you is like being around a drug I can’t have.”

“Who said you can’t have it?”

Eddie looks at you, eyes locked on yours.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

You make an ‘x’ over your heart with your finger. “Never.” Eddie chuckles deeply, finally looking back at the road. 

The two of you listen to the hum of the radio until you start seeing streetlights again. Then, suddenly, your phone started going off in your pocket. You pulled it out to see notification after notification roll in once you reached civilization again. “Shit!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, eyebrows shooting into his bangs.

“I forgot I--” You forgot about your plans with Steve. But did you want to tell Eddie that? “I forgot I had other plans tonight. I need to make a phone call.” Eddie nods and motions zipping his mouth shut. You smile and press the call button on your phone.

“Hello?” You hear Steve’s voice say, a hint of panic in his tone.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I haven’t responded to your texts.” You say, thinking quickly about your excuse.

“It’s fine, is everything okay?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, I just…I just had a really bad migraine at work and…and when I came home I laid down and passed out. Totally didn’t hear my phone go off.”

“No, no, it’s okay I understand,” he says with a hint of relief in his tone. “I’m glad you got a hold of me I was just about to leave to check on you.”

“No! Don’t leave. I’m-I’m still not feeling well. Can I get a rain check?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m sorry you don’t feel good. You sure you don’t want me to bring you anything?” Steve asks, sounding a little dejected.

“Um…no I think I have everything here. Thank you though,” you say, feeling bad for letting him down.

“No problem. I guess I’ll let you go. Just text me later, okay?”

“I will, I promise. Bye…”

“Bye.”

You hit the end call button and shove your phone back into your pocket.

“You’re a pretty good liar,” Eddie says after a beat.

“Thanks. I just felt bad. When you texted me, I just completely forgot that I made a promise to go out tonight.”

“You still could have gone,” he says with a shrug. “I’m sure whoever it was wouldn’t have minded from the sound of it.”

You look him over, his shoulders relaxed and his hands tapping away to the low beat of the music playing. The beams from the vans headlights illuminate his features, his brown eyes reflecting the light off of them. His strong jaw and his nose highlighted against the darkening sky out of his driver side window. You had to admit he had a beautiful profile. 

“I think he’ll be okay,” you say, finally looking away from him.

“He?” Eddie asks with an unreadable look on his face. “Did you have a date?”

“Maybe I did,” you say with a sly smile.

“Awe, you ditched your date for me? How sweet of you. I’m flattered.” Eddie raises his hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion. You laugh at his antics, turning to look at him.

“Well, now that I don’t have any plans, you could always come to my place and we can talk more. I still have so many questions for you.”

Eddie’s hands wring the steering wheel and his shoulders tighten. He’s quiet for a moment as he contemplates your offer.

“I don’t know about tonight. I think I’ve taken enough of your time for the day.”

“Awe, boo,” you say with a thumbs down for extra effect. “It’s not like you have a bedtime or anything.”

“But you do,” he says looking over at you.

“True, but I’m off tomorrow and I don’t think my dad would care if I slept in.”

“Nah, I can’t be keepin’ you up all night already. Maybe some other time.”

Your stomach flips at his words. A promise that you’d see each other again and possibly spend the whole night together. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” Eddie says.

“How did you get my number?”

Eddie visibly recoils at your question. “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“C’mon, I’m not gonna be mad,” you say, pushing his arm.

“Are you sure?”

“Did you ask Eden?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No way. She would never give me your number.”

“Okaaaaayyy? My dad?”

“Nope. I had Martin get it for me.”

You shake your head in surprise. “How the hell did he get my number?”

“He looked back at your file from when you came to the hospital. I’m just glad you put your number and not, like, your dad’s or something.”

“Oh my god, you had Martin violate HIPPA to get my number?” You ask with a wide grin.

“He almost didn’t do it. But I didn’t know how else to get it. Thought about sending the kids to get it but I thought it would be too obvious.”

“You could have just come and talked to me.”

Eddie sighs, “I told you, I didn’t know things were going to turn out this way. For a vampire, I’m a bit of a chicken shit.”

“Could’a fooled me. You had me a little worried back there.”

Eddie cringes, eyes kept on the road as he pulls into the parking lot for the bookstore. He drives up to your car and pulls into a near by spot, throwing the van in park. “Sorry about that,” he finally says, eyes downcast to his lap.

“Don’t be sorry. It was honestly kind of sexy in retrospect,” you say, leaning into the center console to trace a finger along his arm.

“Don’t say that!” He says, bringing his hands to his face in embarrassment. You laugh, leaning away from him until your back is against the van door. Eddie turns his head, his hands still over his face as he parts his fingers to see you smiling at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to my place?” You ask him, eyebrows wiggling to punctuate your insinuation.

“As much as I would love to…I really can’t tonight. Gotta go home and break the news about your little discovery to my family. That’s about all I’m going to be able to handle tonight.”

You pout your lip at him, giving a dissatisfied hum for good measure. Eddie’s hand juts out so quickly you barely see it as he takes your lip between his finger and thumb. “Put that away, it’s not going to work on me tonight.”

“Fine,” you say with an over exaggerated huff. “But, promise me that you’re not going to disappear on me.” Your tone is much more serious, and you stare him down. “I don’t know what,” you gesture between the two of you, “this means between us. But…I definitely want to see you again.”

“Oh, you’ll be seeing me,” he says with a smile, “Gotta keep my eyes on you so you don’t tell my little secret.”

“That’s not what I meant…” You say softly, looking at him through your lashes. Eddie swallows, shifting slightly in his seat so he’s facing you more. “I mean, I want to see you. Maybe for dinner some time…”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

You sit up in your seat and nod. “Yep, off the whole day.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, leaning in to take your hand in his. “Do you want to go with me the Benny’s?”

“You want to go to a restaurant?” You ask, a little surprised at his suggestion.

“Yeah, you still need to eat. I can technically still eat food, it just doesn’t do anything for me. Kinda tastes bleh.”

“We could always go to a movie or something instead. And I’ll be able to eat all the popcorn to myself.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head at your words. “Okay, yeah. I’ll see what’s playing around 7 if that’s okay?”

“Sure, whatever you want to watch,” you say, jitters flowing through your body.

“Sounds like a date. I’ll text you when I’m on my way to your place.”

“Do you know where I live?” You ask, prepared to give him your address.

“Yeah, I know,” is all Eddie says.

“Oh, right, Brenner.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

thank you for reading!

[junkdrawerfan]

A Batman Fanfic Idea:

Tim is a Creature, an answer to a prophecy that spells the doom of the coming universe. On his 18th birthday, the dark blood inside him will rear up to rip away his human facade and all of earth and the many plants known and unknown will be crushed under his heel.

It is a prophecy that has been guarded by the magical community for eons. They know the signs. They know what this doomsday child looks like. The day Timothy Jackson Drake is born, the magical community turns its attention to stopping the prophecy, of sealing the creature away in human flesh and bone.

The problem is that nothing works. Every ritual and spells falls away to fate. It is written. Tim will bring upon the doom of the universe. So what if… they just don’t let him turn 18.

It works for a few years. Messing with time has side effects. People don’t remember but they do? Villains get smarter and tougher. Magic feels less potent as more and more is siphoned of to hold back the flow of time. Mutations occur, ripples in the time stream that twist ally to foe and foe to ally.

(They try to kill him. Three “years” into the whole mess, Tim falls asleep while Bruce and Kon hold his hands. And then he wakes up the next day, a whole day older, in his coffin during his funeral. No one ever mentions it (not enough remember and those that do can’t). The prophecy will not let him die before his time.)

It’s not possible to keep the whole world stuck. Some events can’t be undone. Natural disasters persist even as time doesn’t. Some people age. Some don’t. Damien grows. Dick and Jason and Steph and Cass and Duke and Bruce don’t. For “years” no one notices.

And then Damien is only a year younger than Tim and the inconsistencies become too much to handle. The magic breaks. The spell shatters leaving a gash in the world.

For the first time since his 17th birthday, Tim ages a day. And then a week. A month passes and he can feel his hair growing longer for the first time in six years and has a panic attack.

People start to remember. Bruce goes form 35 to 41 in a week. Dick complain about back problems and aching joints of a 30 year old.

But there is nothing they can do. It was always unsustainable. There’s discussions of trying new ways to kill him, to freeze him. But even a frozen bodies feels time.

His birthday is a countdown.

Damien refuses to give up even as everyone else does.

The whole hero community holds its breath as the last month approaches. They prepare for war.

Tim prepares for death. He makes his peace. He says his goodbyes. He writes letters. It’s like a terminal illness. There’s enough time to say goodbye. There’s not enough time to heal it.

Tim and Kon get married. Kon is 25 now and beautiful. Tim, as always, forever 17. But they won’t have enough time for anything else. The wedding is gorgeous, expensive, a little gaudy. Bruce pours all his energy into planning it. He can’t fix this. There’s nothing he can do to save his son but he can give him two perfect days. It’s beautiful and they record every minute of it.

(Jason is Tim’s best man. It’s funny. Laugh!)

Damien never gives up. He runs to the League, searching the depths of his grandfather’s library. Oh the hero’s asked Ra’s. They scoured the globe for solutions. No knowledge forbidden in an attempt to stop the apocalypse. But there are secrets only family can access, records so lost to time that Ra’s barely remembers them.

He takes Jon (17 and Damien only 16, once again similar in age) with him on the quest, runs himself ragged against mortal and supernatural foes alike. He nearly misses the wedding, surfacing just long enough for a day of family photos and tearful congratulations that do nothing but add to his feverish resolve.

(His family has lost so much, has suffered in ways no family should. He loves them. He aches for them. His brothers and sisters. His aging father. He can’t lose this family when they never got to have enough time.)

He finds a portal to the fea world. The space between dimensions full of holes after six “years” of holding back time. He spends six months within its borders and dances a deadly game of wit with Kings and Queens older than time and returns to the mortal plan to find only 3 days have passed.

He returns to the manor with an untried solution, one he had to pry from the lips of an undying seer trapped within the depths of a catacomb (hard won after outsmarting a face stealer, wondering through an impossible fog, and facing far too many dragons) two days before Tim’s birthday.

The blood ritual is done with all the family present. There is a gash along Damien’s neck that will never stop being angry red, magic always pulsing beneath the skin. But it is worth it to see the hope flare in his family’s eyes.

The solution is deceptively easy and terribly dangerous. You can’t stop fate but you can make it wrong. Tim’s creature blood will rise to the surface on his 18th birthday. But what if it comes a day early. There is a risk that it will all go wrong, that the creature will always ache for blood and death even without fate pulling it along. But, Tim argues, at least then he can die (no one finds this as reassuring as he’d hoped).

Bruce and Kon hold his hands — a parody of that moment three years ago when he fell asleep — and Tim braces for pain. But there is none, just a new taste of magic and the ease of his body morphing. Ears twisting into points, his hair turns feathery and fluffy, pupils spinning into triangles. There is more. Seams along his cheekbones and neck he knows can open into extra mouths and eyes. A tail curling along his spine. His tongue splits at the tip. But his limbs do not twist into anything inhuman (though maybe he could if he tried). And his mind — oh his soul — stays his.

As the clock strikes midnight on Tim’s 18th birthday, nothing happens.

[melpomenelamusa]

Danger in the forest Pt. 1 - Chimeras

~Original story~

Previous

CW: Magic exhaustion, fainting, captured, bound and gagged.

Elafi watched the vines beginning to climb one of the wooden columns of the fence surrounding the orchard. They were thin green threads with a few budding leaves. Elafi observed them closely, as if they were the only thing that existed in the world.

"Grow."

The small vine stretched, winding itself further up the column, clinging tightly to the wood. Elafi kept watching, holding the persistent command in his mind. The vine kept climbing. Its stem thickened, and multiple leaves sprouted. The wood creaked.

Suddenly, Elafi felt his vision blur, and a ringing sound pierced his ears. He didn’t know when he lost his balance, and he would have fallen to the ground if someone hadn’t caught him and helped him sit carefully on the grass.

"Elafi, are you okay?" Fidi’s worried voice reached his dizzy mind. "You look like you’re about to faint, and your nose is bleeding."

Elafi blinked several times, trying to clear the spots from his vision and stop his head from throbbing. Something wet slid over his upper lip. He felt nauseous.

"I'm... f-fine..." he said, but his weak voice betrayed him.

"Come on, I’ll help you inside."

Fidi helped Elafi to his feet and guided him back into the cabin. The deer boy shuffled to the couch, where he let himself collapse. He felt extremely exhausted. A deep fatigue was the main consequence of using his nature powers. It was as if the earth drained his own life or energy to give it to the plants he forced to grow. Or at least, that was the theory he had developed after days of practice, giving different commands—or "requests," as he preferred to call them—to the trees and other plants around him.

"You need to be more careful," the snake girl told him, handing him a napkin to wipe the blood from his nose. "If Warrick were here, he’d scold you for being reckless."

Elafi knew that, and that was why he felt guilty. Even though he knew he had to practice controlling his powers, he sometimes failed to measure the consequences that overexertion had on his health. After all, they were dealing with magic—something that no one except Lupita truly understood.

"I-I'll keep that in mind," he said, leaning back against the couch. He closed his eyes for a while, trying to calm his nausea. When he opened them again after a few minutes, he saw Fidi still sitting next to him on the couch, her brow furrowed and her gaze fixed on the scales on the backs of her hands. She seemed a bit agitated. "Are you okay?"

Fidi flinched, as if she had just been caught doing something illegal.

"Ah, yeah, I’m fine, I was just thinking… For the past few days, I’ve felt like my teeth are itching. It sounds weird, I know, but I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s weird… But let’s talk about something else! Are you hungry? Let’s eat something."

The truth was that Elafi was starting to feel a little hungry—it was almost noon. They ate some tuna pasta and then went for a walk in the forest. Warrick wouldn’t return until later, and they had already finished their assigned chores in the cabin, so they had nothing else to do.

They wandered deep into the trail, heading toward the mountain. However, upon reaching a clearing not far from the camping area, they spotted a campsite. It consisted of a large, closed tent and a portable toilet. A double-cab pickup truck was parked beside it. There was also a pile of firewood and stones stacked in front, as if someone was planning to build a fire soon.

"Do you think they’re birdwatchers?" Elafi asked, stepping closer, driven by curiosity.

"I don’t think it’s a good idea to find out," the girl said, getting a bad feeling, but the deer boy ignored her and continued forward.

Soon, they discovered that the seemingly empty campsite wasn’t entirely unoccupied: on the ground, with its legs tied, was a fawn. The poor creature barely struggled, and a piece of rope around its muzzle prevented it from calling for help. Seeing it, Elafi couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow in his heart, seeing himself reflected in the terrified, large black eyes of the fawn.

"We have to help it!" Elafi exclaimed, trying to untie the nylon ropes immobilizing the small animal.

Fidi simply stood there, watching the scene. Her body language visibly revealed her anxiety.

"Let’s get out of here," she insisted. "What if whoever captured that deer finds us?"

"I don’t want to leave it here alone," Elafi replied. He stood up, took one of the firepit stones—the sharpest one he could find—and used it to cut the rope.

The fawn thrashed, even more frightened. Its chest heaved frantically.

"Easy, we’re here to help, we won’t hurt you," Elafi said, his voice as sweet and calm as he could make it. His words had an immediate effect, as the fawn soon settled, allowing the boy to cut the rope and free it. "There! You can go back to your family now."

The fawn stood on its thin legs—identical to Elafi’s. They observed each other for a moment, communicating solely through their gaze. Then, the fawn took off, leaping into the dense forest until it disappeared.

"Let’s go already," Fidi said, more desperate now. The two chimera children turned to leave, but they hadn’t even taken a step when the tent suddenly opened and two men emerged.

"Look what we have here," said the shorter one with a half-smile. "Looks like we lost our prey but found two new ones."

Elafi felt his stomach knot. They were hunters.

"We don’t want any trouble," Fidi said, stepping in front of the deer boy and slowly backing away.

"Hey, I know you," the taller hunter said, pointing at Elafi. "I saw you in a picture. So you’re the reason old Cazador is dead, huh?"

Hearing that name again made Elafi’s legs tremble, and the memories of that event made his breathing quicken. They were Cazador’s friends—they had to be just as crazy and cruel as him. He felt Fidi squeeze his hand, trying to help him stay calm.

"So there were more beasts like you in this forest after all," one of the men continued. "And who’s this, your girlfriend?"

"Leave us alone," Fidi said, her voice firm and dripping with venom as she flicked out her forked tongue between her fangs.

"Why don’t you just come with us willingly before we have to do this the hard way?" the taller hunter said. He had a rifle slung over his back, which he then brought into his hands.

Elafi’s heart pounded hard against his chest. That’s when he decided to drop to his knees and place both hands on the ground. The earth began to tremble.

"What the hell?!" one of the hunters shouted, looking around.

Suddenly, roots emerged from the ground like snakes, wrapping around the men’s legs, climbing up their torsos, and immobilizing them.

"What kind of witchcraft is this?!"

"What’s happening?!"

Elafi took advantage of the distraction, leaping to his feet and shouting for Fidi to run. The two chimera children bolted into the forest. Behind them, they heard gunshots, but neither dared to look back, too terrified for their lives.

After a few minutes, as the initial adrenaline wore off, Elafi felt his energy drain from using his powers so suddenly. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping. Fidi was already several meters ahead, disappearing among the trees. Elafi tried to keep moving, stretching his arms and crawling forward. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose. His headache was unbearable, pounding as if someone were hammering his skull.

Then, the sound of snapping branches and heavy footsteps reached his ears. Two tall figures stopped in front of him.

"Tired of running, little deer?"

Elafi barely had the strength to lift his head and observe the faces of his soon-to-be captors. Someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him up roughly. The boy couldn’t even stand properly on his two hooves, staggering.

“We lost one fawn, but we got another.”

One of the hunters easily hoisted Elafi onto his shoulder. The teenager didn’t even struggle; all his effort was focused on not losing consciousness.

They took him back to the camp. The roots he had previously summoned to create a distraction and escape had now disappeared, leaving behind only a patch of disturbed earth.

“We’ll take care of you first, and then your little friend,” one of the men said, dropping Elafi onto the waterproof ground inside the tent. It was quite spacious, with a plastic table and chairs in one corner, sleeping bags on the other side, and various scattered objects and tools. In the center stood a tall, somewhat wide metal column that supported the tent’s ceiling.

The hunters sat Elafi on the ground and tied him to the column, his arms pulled behind his back. More rope was wrapped around his torso, and additional bindings secured his ankles together.

“Today really is our lucky day,” one of the hunters said. Someone removed Elafi’s scarf and used it to gag him. The fabric was long enough to wrap around both the boy’s head and the metal column twice before the ends were tied. Elafi felt the thick cloth pulling his skull backward, digging into the corners of his mouth. No matter how hard he tried, he could only move his head slightly from side to side, and the cold metal cylinder pressed uncomfortably against his spine, crushing his tail.

“Now we just have to wait for that little reptile girl to come back for her friend,” one of the men remarked, exchanging a knowing glance with his companion. “We could have some fun with them before selling them.”

“Nggh, phlss!”

A part of Elafi didn’t want Fidi to come back for him. He knew it was a trap. If they caught her because of him, he wouldn’t be able to bear it—or forgive himself. But on the other hand, he was scared. He was afraid of the hunters, of their intentions. He felt just like that little fawn, trapped and unable to call for help, just waiting for someone to come save him. If anyone even would.

To make matters worse, using his powers twice in one day had left him exhausted and weak. At that moment, summoning the power of the plants again was impossible. He didn’t even have enough energy to struggle against his restraints. He felt his eyelids growing heavier, slowly closing. A wave of fear and worry was the last thing he experienced before losing consciousness.

To be continued...

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba@morning-star-whump @lancedoncrimsonwings@3-2-whump@whumped-by-glitter@string-of-broken-hearts@alyscat@oddsconvert@what-if-i-just-did@bacillusinfection@writinglittlepains@washing---machine @bilightningwhumper @enasolos @inhurtandincomfort

Oh no! Anyways, thanks for reading!⭐

[droidsdoodles]

To beat the angst, the two definitely had their cells next to each other. (RL wasn't big on POWs and usually just eliminate them on the spot) Might lead to some talks and Eduardo finally just letting out everything he felt the past few years. I know the fandom likes to hc Patryck as a therapist but since he had his own meltdown I feel it wouldn't be appropriate here. They just talk and vent as people.

And Eduardo finds out his partner Tom is alive and so is Mark his old friend. You ever hear the saddest cry from a grown man till that damn breaks from Eduardo. Hand over mouth trying really hard not too but he so glad they made it out.

[bootleg-nessie]

Rating band names based on their accuracy:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts

(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)

Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink

Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like

Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it

The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to

Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury

Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams

The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few

U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band

Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”

Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot

Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music

Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location

Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes

The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho

Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago

Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used

Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho

The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location

The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate

Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.

Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go

Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green

The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band

KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes

The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me

We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable

They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants

The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two

Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit

The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not

The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring

Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic

Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that

Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar

Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew

Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole

Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that

Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go

The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate

Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long

Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking

The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit

Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head

Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful

Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden

Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out

Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk

The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list

The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot

Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!

Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma

Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction

Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways

Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it

Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points

Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal

Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury

D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band

NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it

Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud

Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold

No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts

The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes

Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally

Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad

Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one

Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death

Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band

Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie

Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are

Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools

Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment

Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is

Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis

Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast

Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead

Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?

Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify

ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite

5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with

All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this

T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments

Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10

The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons

The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins

Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history

Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot

Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this

Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out

Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out

Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s��not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

���Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[januaryembrs]

TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader

Description: The ONE time the BAU needs you + the FOUR times you need them.

word count: 24k (what on earth was I thinking)

trigger warnings: mentions of spencers addictions + use + side affects. MOMMY ISSUES thankyou ambassador Prentiss. hostage scene + injuries. mentions of forced/pressured marriage. fem!reader. reader and Emily struggle to bond.

authors note: We never meet Emily's dad nor do we see a picture so while reader is given a nickname of Bugsy, she still keeps her real name (no use of y/n) and is given ZERO physical descriptors. ALL of my fem!readers should feel included here, let me know if this is not the case! also I don't speak any language besides English however she does speak many because of her mom, so I really tried to get it right, message me if I'm being stupid!!

series masterlist | next chapter

[this] means its spoken in another language.

—

‘trouble on my left, trouble on my right,

I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life’

1. the one where you become a translator.

“I’ll make some calls, I may still have some friends in the Eastern countries,” Ambassador Prentiss announced to the room, standing from her place on the plush sofa. 

A case had landed quite literally in Emily’s lap when her mother had come by that morning asking for Hotch, a Russian migrant looking for her father with a ransom note and a sliced off finger shoved through her mailbox, wedding ring still attached. 

It wasn’t every day Emily wished she’d brushed up on her Russian, but today of all days she was struggling to keep up. 

“We don’t have much time, we need a division of labour,” Hotch’s serious face settled, the time constraints making him just that bit more dictatorial, “Morgan, someone needs to go to the Chernus’s house in Baltimore in case they are contacted again,” 

“What about the language barrier?” Derek raised, smoothing a hand over the short scruff of his beard, “We can’t have the unsub speaking with the family directly. He could say anything to them without us knowing,” 

Bugsy would hate to admit she fit the criteria for youngest daughter of a workaholic mother and distant father to a tea, but Emily would say different. 

Elizabeth Prentiss had never been a warm woman; Emily used to tell her the scowl was a side effect of the overplucking of her eyebrows, not the serious nature of her job. Her youngest girl once said her mother’s lips looked like she’d sucked a lemon. Of course they admired her work, but world peace meant jack shit to a little girl wanting nothing more than a mother’s hug. 

Despite the fact she’d pushed away her husband and both her daughters in favour of her career, the one useful thing about being the Ambassador’s daughter wasn’t just the money, but the widespread culture the girls had been crammed full of since they could so much as beg for a sippy cup. 

“Baltimore, you say?” Emily asked Hotch with a somewhat doubtful wince, “I mean you could always-”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother cut her off, rubbing the stress lines already creasing her forehead at the very notion of her other daughter, despite the fact Emily hadn’t even finished her thought.

Emily’s sigh was a reflex, the years of her mother cutting her off sparking the frustration on instinct. 

“She lives right in the city, Mother, it can’t hurt to have her just talk for them-” Emily tried to bargain, only for the sharp mouthed Ambassador shoot her a frown. 

“End of discussion, Emily,” Elizabeth snipped, her manicured fingernails twitching with annoyance, “Your sister is much too young for an assignment so serious,”

Emily rolled her eyes with a scoff, as if the two had slipped back into the role of rebellious teenager and scathing mother without much thought. 

“She's twenty-two, mom. She’s getting her masters degree for Christ sakes, she’s not ‘too young’,” The dark headed woman fought back, clicking her pen a few times as if the spring loaded ink would take away some of the temper Elizabeth seemed to flare up. 

Her mother’s lips pursed, in the way Bugsy hated, in the way that meant she was going to be mean.

“Immature may have been a better word, then,” She replied, and Emily seemed to pause. She couldn’t argue with that. “Or perhaps lazy, or puerile; callow, wild, irresponsible. Would you like me to name more?” 

“Asinine would be a good term; deriving from the Latin asinus it not only means foolish, but to be stubborn and lazy like an ass,” Spencer input helpfully to the Ambassador, only for his bright smile to fade when he saw the daggers Emily stared at him with, “Sorry, I love word games,” He muttered into his lap. 

“Asinine. Perfect, Dr Reid,” Elizabeth said, and Emily could only roll her eyes harder.

Hotch huffed, the victim’s daughter watching between the two women’s quarrel with wet eyes, the ice box with her father’s finger clenched tightly in her lap, the cold of the limb bleeding into his own gaze.

“Unfortunately, Ambassador Prentiss, despite just how asinine your daughter might be, Morgan is right. Having the Unsub possibly speaking with the family without us understanding what he’s saying could prove fatal,” He explained, ignoring the way the older woman’s mouth scrunched in bitterness. They didn’t need to be profilers to see that despite how tempered the relationship between Emily and her mother was, a tension seemed to fall between the women the moment the younger Prentiss was mentioned. 

Spencer was sure he was the only person who even knew Emily had a little sister. 

“Very well, but don’t be surprised when you find your hands full of the girl,” Elizabeth said with a shake of her head as she led the victims, a mother and daughter that seemed to cling to one another for comfort as if to rub salt in her matriarchal wound, into the break room to get away from the frosty atmosphere that now lingered around the table.

Emily sighed, picking around her fingernails the way she did when she was bothered. 

“I’m going to hate these next words that are gonna come out of my mouth,” She started with a long exhale, “But my mother’s right. Bugsy is a handful. Just try not to get her wound up, that girl smells fear,” She looked to Reid who seemed none the wiser, “I’m talking to you, wonder boy. She’ll eat you up and spit you right back out,” 

Spencer gulped quietly. 

Derek only chuckled, slapping a hand down onto Emily’s shoulder, “Relax, Prentiss. Your mom’s just got you all worried. Need I remind you I grew up with two sisters? This will be a piece of cake,”

–

Those were the famous last words of Derek Morgan. 

Loud, heavy metal music jumped through the wooden door, so loud Morgan worried his three polite knocks would go unheard as the two of them waited outside her dorm for her to answer. Morgan was about to knock again, figuring the music had drowned out the first lot, when the door swung open and a frown the spitting image of Emily’s stressed expression met their gaze. 

She looked so different to their Prentiss, but the way she seemed already scorned by the two of them told them they had the right woman. 

“Miss Prentiss?” Morgan asked formally, though he felt the warmth grow when he caught sight of a beat up friendship bracelet around her wrist amongst newer gold chains, five white blocks spelling out her sister’s name pulling tight on her skin, as if she’d quickly outgrown the thing but hadn’t the heart to remove it. 

It was then that he and Reid seemed to both reel back slightly at the fact she was standing in a large shirt, ratty around the edges, and what seemed to be a pair of men's boxers covering her bottom half, clearly not suspecting particularly important visitors. 

She looked him head to toe with a frown, a dozen piercings in her ears, her hair highlighted with streaks of cardinal red, as if he was the one confronting her in his underwear, before she moved onto Spencer, who’s face seemed to be getting hotter by the second as he forced his eyes away from her bare legs. 

“Are you guys strippers? Did someone send strippers to my door?” She asked, strawberry gum smacking between her lips as her gaze seemed to finish mulling over Spencer’s tall form and returned to Morgan.

“Emily sent us.” Reid said shortly, the music blaring in his ears making it difficult to focus on what it was she was saying, “As co-workers, no-not strippers. We’re with the FBI,” 

He hated loud noises anyway, cringed at the sound of particularly cutting rock songs, but since he’d developed his … problem, the dilaudid had him feeling like someone was clawing at his skull, tugging his brain through his ears.

“Emily sent you here?” She asked with a scoff, looking the two up and down again. They both easily caught the way her face hardened, “Are pigs flying today or something?” 

“We’re here to ask for your help on a case,” Spencer rushed through a sweaty brow, “Emily said you’d be able to act as a translator for us and some Russian citizens who are being targeted,” 

She sighed sceptically, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame, “Any strippers or non-strippers can fraud an ID. Emily’s name was in the paper just the other week. I’m gonna need a little more than that,”

She keeps track of her sister despite the supposed distance between them. Spencer was quick to profile, his mind whirring at all the ways she reminded him of her sister down to the way she raised her eyebrows expectantly at them. 

“Emily was born October twelfth, 1970 at 7:12am, graduated from Garfield High School in 1989,” Spencer said as if reporting the weather, her eyes narrowing in on him all the more coldly, “She attended Chesapeake Bay University and speaks six languages, as I expect you do from moving so often with your mother. She coined your nickname Bugsy from your childhood love of ladybugs, which she said you grew out of by the time you turned eleven yet the name stuck, though you still like counting the spots to identify their species. Your parents split when you were five and your father moved in with his now wife, born September ninth-”

“Alright- alright. What are you, living in her walls?” She interrupted incredulously, before turning her attention to Derek who seemed to hide a chuckle with a cough. “Either you really are a stripper or you’re a terrible friend,”

“She loves Kurt Vonnegut,” Derek held his finger as if to prove her entirely wrong, although not much else came to him. Maybe he was a bad friend, he thought guiltily, or maybe he simply lacked an eidetic memory like the wonder boy next to him, who had been about to tell her how old she was when Emily’s pet betta fish died, “Slaughterhouse 5?”

Rolling her eyes, she grunted at them, kicking her door open for them to enter. 

“Everyone loves Vonnegut; only losers under a rock dislike Vonnegut,” She drawled, edging back into her room, the heavy bass rock growing in volume as they followed her in, “I’ll be ready in a second- Emily’s always bugging me about wearing pants,” She said vaguely, scanning around the dirty dorm, until she found one particular pair of jeans laying half under her bed, quickly yanking them up her legs. “Come in, come in.” 

She flicked the speakers way down to which Spencer took a breath of relief. His eyes fell to the laptop that had been set up on her desk, the five different textbooks littered around the spare space, energy drinks and empty mugs filling the cracks where he could barely see the generic white of the table top, his nose crinkling. About as gross as he’d expect from a college student. 

“Emily said your Russian was pretty good,” Derek made conversation, his eyes wandering over the various posters plastered over her walls, some fraying round the edges from where she had likely been moved from bedroom to bedroom when the Prentiss’s inevitably had to move country again. 

“Yeah,” She snarked, pulling a nicer top over her head, “Kinda tends to happen when you live in Russia,”

Morgan raised his eyebrows to Spencer who seemed to give him the same look back, though the latter was biting back a snicker at her words. 

How in the hell was she the Ambassador’s daughter?

–

“This all involves Russian Mafia, it’s really beefed up here the last ten years or so,” Agent Cramer, a tall, slim man who looked entirely overwhelmed by the workload on his shoulders reported, as she listened intently. 

She had been somewhat de-briefed in the car, Emily messaging her for the first time since Christmas, the message a simple: “Have you met with Morgan and Reid yet? Make sure to put on pants,” to which she sent her a thumbs up emoji. She didn’t have much to say to her at the moment, barely even knew her sister anymore. 

“It started off mainly in New York and LA but they send lieutenants from the old country,” Cramer went on, and she caught Reid scratching his arm beneath his shirt. She knew it was mozzy weather, and he was already under the blaring sun in a little sweater, it wouldn’t surprise her if he felt a bit prickly. 

“Pahkans,” She interrupted, the man named Gideon shooting her a glance as she dug through her purse. 

“Your Mom do much work about the Mafia?” He asked, as she produced a clear nail varnish. 

“Here and there, I had to sit with her in her office for a whole Summer once when I got caught sneaking out. Picked up a few things, though,” She said, holding the polish out to Spencer, nodding to his arm, “Here. Supposed to help bug bites,”

He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, perhaps question her sources for such an old wives tale, but he stopped himself quickly, taking the varnish out of her hand with a dejected nod. 

“Thankyou,” He muttered, shoving it in his pocket. 

Three months he’d been in this rabbit hole. She had noticed it in a matter of hours. 

“They open up branch offices in other cities. Baltimore, Saint Louis, Chicago, Dallas, the list goes on,” Cramer added, nodding at her words, “They’re mainly offshoots of the Odessa Mafia and they’re especially tough to crack from a law enforcement standpoint. I mean beside being well organised with sophisticated technical equipment, there’s Vory v Zakone to contend with,” 

“The thieves code, eighteen principles they live by,” Reid jumped in before she could, to which she nodded as Gideon looked to her for more. 

“It means ‘thief in law’, or ‘thief with code’. It's a system of repeatedly jailed convicts that have been crowned or ‘made’ with a strict list of ideals, breaking them usually means death,” She explained, kicking a stone between her feet. 

“It’s like bible to these guys. We’re not gonna be turning any of them informer anytime soon,” Cramer said. Gideon seemed to tune the three of them out however, his gaze locking on the house across the street, where a curtain twitched, and a man’s face appeared in the window, watching the crime scene with guilt. 

“Then we’ll need a witness who will talk,” Gideon replied, heading straight towards the neighbour who seemed just a little too invested in what was happening, much more than a concerned third party should be. Though, she had barely noticed, digging through her purse once more for chapstick. 

“So, you study Russian or something?” Cramer asked as she applied it gently, Spencer swore he could smell the cherry flavour from where he stood beside her. 

“I lived in Moscow until I was six, moved back to France, then back to Italy, then Algeria for a bit. Bounced around Europe for a bit longer, but I still speak better Russian than anything else,” She clarified, and she saw Cramer’s eyebrows shoot up, “Military brat except I don’t get the cool discount at the store,” 

“You must have had a lot of friends though, going to so many schools,” Spencer added, and though there was nothing teasing about his tone, she laughed sharply anyway. 

“You’re funny,” She snarked, but smiled at him anyway.

Spencer had never been called funny in his life. ‘Funny looking’, ‘funny sounding’ maybe, but never funny. 

In fact he was so confused by what she had meant, whether it had been a taunt or genuine that he almost missed the sound of the whole street locking their front doors, dead bolting their lives away when a black prius, an expensive one at that, pulled through the street and swerved into park next to them. 

“Guess who,” Cramer bit, her eyes ripping away from where Gideon had the door slammed in his face. 

Detective Cramer aged by about five years when two tall men got out of the luxury car, opening the door for a shorter man in the back seat, their faces thunder. 

“You familiar with them?” She asked, shoulder brushing against Spencer as she turned to watch the men approach, entirely aware of the .9mm on each of their hips. 

“Arseny Lysowsky,” The detective identified, his voice cold, eyeing the two men who flanked the leader, towering over them. 

“Agent Cramer, how are you?” Lysowsky smiled at him, which oddly enough seemed somewhat real, as he also took stock of the three other people around him. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, noting her lack of gun and badge, trying to decipher if she was local or just a very unprepared fed. 

“Lysowsky, what brings you out?” Cramer asked, a tightness to his tone, his hand all too eager to grab his own pistol. 

“I heard Chernuses had problems,” He kept it vague, didn’t reveal too much, and looked back at the victim’s house with a scorned frown. 

“How did you hear that?” Gideon challenged, stance unwavering as the mob leader turned to meet his cold gaze. 

“And you are?” He asked, a sinister smile on his face that flipped her stomach. She didn’t like the tension that had overcome the little patch of sidewalk they took up, and she was quick to notice how Spencer moved towards her. 

He, by far, wasn’t the best shot on the team, but he was sure Hotch and Prentiss would have his and Morgan’s heads if any harm came to her. 

“Churneses said they hadn’t told anyone,” Agent Gideon ignored his question, hands firmly planted on his hips. If he was unnerved by the criminal in front of him, he never showed it, not even when Lysowsky’s grin widened horribly. 

“It is a small community. Word gets out,” He said simply, looking past him to the neighbours house that had kicked Gideon to the curb, “Are you a friend of Gorban’s?”

A second of silence passed between them, neither of them backing down from the moral standoff they’d engaged in. 

“Mr Gorban wouldn’t talk to me,” Gideon admitted, and Arseny only smiled again, flicking a look at the house behind him, as if hearing his dog had obeyed without command. 

“Would you like me to talk to him for you?” The threat was there clear as day, clear enough to have Gideon’s eyes narrow, “I can’t promise something will come of it,” 

“You!” In a second, Natalya, the victim she’d briefly met when Morgan had pulled up around an hour before, had stormed out of her house, her black kitten heels clicking against the concrete, “Where’s my father? He has my father!” 

“Wait a minute,” Derek called, restraining her where she stood, trying to pull his muscled arm from her shoulder, “Do you know he has your father?” 

“He’s responsible for all of this,” She spat, her eyes cold as she glared at the three men with vitriol hate, “Why everyone’s afraid, him and his animals,” She threw a hand up to his bodyguards that seemed barely contained by Cramer’s silencing hand. 

“I am only here to help,” Lysowsky replied, confident and calm in his words, though not as taunting as the agents would have thought, as if he truly cared for her.

A vast difference to the sadistic mob boss Cramer’s team had painted him to be. 

“Help?” She laughed woefully, tears in her eyes, “You’re a dog,” 

“Natalya,” Arseny said in a warning, the way a teacher would to a student, as her breath rattled in her chest through a weep. 

“How exactly can you help them?” Bugsy braved to speak, Gideon and Reid both flashing her a look. She’d always had trouble holding her tongue. 

Lysowsky turned his attention to her then, his eyes running down her figure, still deciphering whether she was armed; she looked much too young to be an agent. 

“In any way that they’d like me to, darling,” He replied, the disdain in her frown clearly not deterring him in the slightest, though again the act of concern held up in his own grimace, “As I said this is a small community. If one is in pain, we’re all in pain.”

Natalya weeped behind Morgan, sniffling as the boss made his way over to her, “Natalya, [you didn’t have to bring in outsiders],” 

The younger woman’s ears pricked up as he spoke in his native language, Spencer’s eyes flicking to her from behind his sunglasses. 

“[Let me help you],” He continued, taking a step towards Natalya, unthreatening yet she saw Morgan tense, his fingers twitching towards his gun. 

“[My family will never come to you for help],” Natalya hissed back, also in Russian, her face contorted in disgust, “[Get away from my house],” 

“[You are not right, Natalya],” He replied, yet again the concern in his eyes was either genuine or very well faked, “[You have made the wrong decision],” 

Taking a step away from the victim that wept with a scorned sneer, he looked back to the agents, noting the way the youngest of them glared at him hotly, before retreating to his car. 

“What did he say? Did he threaten you, Natalya?” Morgan asked, the woman watching the group of men drive away, as if Mr Chernus wasn’t still missing and they hadn’t just bumped themselves up to number one of the suspects list. “Talk to us and we can do something about it,”

“He said I made the wrong decision,” She said wetly, frustration turning on Derek as he pushed her for an answer, “I hope I didn’t,” 

With that she stormed off back into her house, the same stomping of her kitten heels in her wake, leaving the agents to all look between one another before they simultaneously turned to look at Bugsy, questions hovering on all of their lips. 

“What did he say exactly?” Gideon asked without frills, a hand rubbing his brow. Relaying the information, the men’s faces all drew into frowns as they heard Lysowsky’s parting statement. Gideon huffed, turning to Morgan and gesturing for him to follow Natalya inside. 

“Morgan, keep an eye on her, Reid and I are going to Cramer’s office to look over the files,” He looked at her then, worry lines littering his otherwise friendly face, damn near scowling as she looked over at him, “You are here to interpret, you understand? You do not speak to the suspects, that’s our job.” He growled, watching her with disappointment, the same tone a father used when scolding a petulant child, “Do you have any idea how much danger you could put yourself in? These guys won’t hesitate to take you out the second we’re not around, kid,” 

“But-” She started with a bite, though her whole fight left her when he silenced her with a raised hand. 

“Buts are for cigarettes, kiddo,” He interrupted, and Spencer winced slightly, knowing he’d heard that one a few hundred times when he’d first started under Gideon and had yet to mature entirely. Reid watched something rebellious flare in her eyes, and he worried for a moment she might just slap his boss for the patronising tone he took, “Just keep your mouth shut, you’re doing great so far,” 

She opened her mouth to protest, only to then register his words entirely and stay silent once more, appreciating his praise with a guilty smile. For once, she listened. 

–

The grandfather clock chimed to tell them it was merely 11am; two hours until the unsub would start cutting more if they didn’t get the ransom fee, two hours to figure out who wanted Natalya’s family to suffer. 

Said woman paced her living room at the sound of the hour, as Bugsy picked over the knick knacks on her fireplace, a small smile teasing her lips when she saw a picture of three small children grinning toothily at the camera. 

She had never gotten any photo’s similar, Emily being fourteen years older. The majority of their childhood photos consisted of a very grumpy teenager holding her baby sister that seemed to squirm in the tight, formal dresses Elizabeth Prentiss had forced them into, identical scowls on their faces as they were made to sit for the picture. 

There were some good memories, ones where Emily let herself be a sister and not a mom, where she would put makeup on her for fun and do her hair, let her have all the clothes out her wardrobe she thought looked nice, reading to her before bed, even letting her sister keep her pet corn snake when she left home for good. 

But now, it seemed like she was too caught up in her super serious grown up job to give a shit that her sister lived just an hour away. Still messaged each other for holidays, but the last few times she’d braved a call to the eldest Prentiss, it had gone unanswered. They argued the majority of the time they spoke, or there was an awkward long silence in between words, whichever was worse, but they each knew the other would come running if they were to ever need them so desperately. 

“Are you hungry? I could make something?” Natalya offered kindly, Derek having a poke through her collection of books that sat on the end table, though he’d have a tough job reading them as she’d already caught most of them were in her home language. 

“Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” He replied with a small smile, putting down the books to calm the clearly on edge woman that looked to the twenty-something year old hopefully. 

She shook her head, “I’m good, thanks,” which seemed to deflate her entirely as she sat next to Derek with a sigh.

“I guess I’m like my mother. When she’s upset, she cooks,” Natalya said with a sad huff of a laugh, running a hand through her short, dark hair. 

“Yeah, mine does too. I think that’s just a mom thing,” He replied, and Bugsy felt the two of them look at her as her finger traced the old brass ornaments gently, “How about you, baby Prentiss?” 

She snorted, “You’re kidding, right?” smiling bitterly, “My mom never cooked for us, she said we needed to figure it out for ourselves rather than relying on the staff. Didn’t stop her from trying to end world hunger though,” 

It wasn’t lost to Morgan the way her eyes trained on the picture of Natalya and her mother, cuddled together with genuine love in their embrace, the snarky humour as she spoke, the same longing Emily seemed almost too good at hiding from them. 

“Your mother is a great woman,” Natalya complimented, though she missed the way the girl’s face steeled over, chewing her bottom lip as if to stop herself from snapping at the woman who meant well. She said nothing. “Where is your mother?” She turned her attention back to Derek who seemed the more talkative of the two of them. 

“Chicago. That’s where I’m from,” He replied, watching Bugsy turn away from the two of them to inspect more of the Chernus’s trinkets on their walls. 

“I’m from Dolgoprudny. Just North of Moscow.” Natalya replied. Opening her mouth to add something else, she was cut off by a knock at the door and the three of them froze in their place. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Morgan asked Natalya in a hushed tone, reaching for his gun and heading for the door. 

She shook her head, “No,” She whispered back. Morgan pulled the curtain back the smallest inch to see a small blonde boy staring back, a box in his hands and a bored look on his face. 

It all happened too fast from there, Natalya opening the door for the neighbourhood kid, opening the box to see a decapitated ear, the blood fresh and pooling in the bottom of the box. It couldn’t have been taken longer than an hour or so ago, unless they were keeping the parts on ice. 

Bugsy’s hand slapped over her mouth, Natalya’s scream piercing through her as she shoved the box into Derek’s hands, fleeing to the toilet, and she heard the woman retching. Part of her felt the same nausea settle in her stomach, looking away from the body part with a wince as Derek got straight on the phone to Gideon. 

“They didn’t wait, man. They sent a box with-” He swallowed thickly, “With Mr Chernus’s ear inside.”

Gideon replied, and whatever it was, it had Derek looking back to her. He agreed, hanging up the phone and rooting through his pockets, producing a set of rattling keys, holding them out for you between the tips of his fingers. 

“Gideon wants you, kid. He said they’re at the Little Kiev restaurant, they’re going to talk to Lysowsky,” Morgan said, grimacing as he held the ear away from her, “You sure you’ll be okay to drive?” 

“I’d rather be on the road than look at what’s in that box,” She said in disgust, taking the keys and heading out to the car.

She thought it best for everyone she didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet got her licence as she made her way over to the restaurant. 

-

“Reid and I will do the talking, just see if anything he’s saying connects with Vory v zakone, think you got that?” Gideon instructed her the second she got out of the car, taking the keys and handing them back to Reid who gave her a small nod. 

“We think the reason it was Mr Chernus who was targeted has something to do with the code,” Reid explained, his hands in his pockets as the three of them approached the restaurant, “You said earlier you understood the tenants,” 

“Why me, though? I thought I was just translating?” She repeated Gideon’s earlier words, almost cocky that they needed her.

“Lysowsky would feel the need to show face in front of men like Morgan and Cramer, even in front of Natalya since she lives locally. Between the three of us, he had less reputation to uphold, less so with a young woman like yourself,” Reid added, holding the door open for her to go in front. 

And so there she was, trailing behind Gideon and Reid over to where Lysowsky sipped a spoonful of borscht, as she tried not to marvel at the grandeur of the establishment inside. Clearly, Arsney had money to build a place like this, and wasn’t afraid to be flashy about it either, that much was apparent from the other clientele that tended to their beers around their own tables, Rolex watches and designer shoes adorning nearly every one of them. She hated to think of how many ears or fingers those suits had cost. 

“Would you like something to eat?” He asked, a chunk of bread in his hand dipping into the thick sauce, seemingly unbothered that they were there, “This borscht is exquisite, it’s my mother’s old country recipe,” 

“Didn’t you forsake all your relatives when you swore the thieves code?” Reid asked, which she guessed was hit foot in to get Lysowsky to talk. 

“I didn’t forsake her recipes,” Lysowsky replied with a shrug, looking to her where she seemed to be staring at his plate, “Borscht?” 

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling, “Much preferred stroganoff, mom used to force me to have borscht to make sure I ate my veggies,”  

His eyebrows raised, surprise written over his face, before he gave a short laugh. 

“[Where are you from]?” He asked in his mother tongue, gesturing for the three of them to sit down, though his eyes lit up as he watched her carefully. 

“[I was born in DC, but my mother worked in Moscow for a few years],” She answered shortly, and he seemed to find it even funnier that the near child they’d brought along on their case spoke as fluently as he did. 

Laughing with a heavy hand smacking on the table, he gestured to a nearby waiting staff to come over. 

“What are you having then, borscht for the gentle man?” He looked at Reid and Gideon, the former shaking his head while Gideon nodded with an awkward smile. 

“I’d love a taste,” He said, though any enthusiasm seemed to have drained out of his voice. 

“And what is the little lady having?” Lysowsky asked, his eyes falling back to her, as she straightened in her seat. 

She chanced a quick glance to Gideon, who nodded at her to play his game. She had not expected to be so deep in criminal territory when they’d said they needed a translator, and truly they hadn’t planned on getting her in the field until they realised she would know much more about this than they would.

“Do you have sharlotka?” She asked, returning his smile wearily as he clicked at the waiter who all but bolted to the kitchen. 

“A sweet tooth. I like it,” Arseny replied, shovelling a heap of beets into his mouth, “Our favourite was always Leningradsky,”

“Ours?” She prompted, giving a polite thanks to the waiter who returned too quickly with a slice of cake. She caught Spencer glancing at the bowl with intrigue, the hunger clear on the quiet man’s face. Gently pushing the bowl and clean spoon towards him, he flicked a look up at her, “Apple cake,” She whispered, sending him a small smile, “Really yummy with the sugar on top,” 

“Mine and my mother’s,” Arseny replied, though Gideon and Reid both caught how he paused before he replied, as if he had to think about the answer he was giving; the oldest tell that it wasn’t entirely true, “We didn’t have much when I was a boy, but that was always our dessert of choice,” 

She stopped for a mere second, missing the moment when Spencer spooned the tiniest bite of the cake into his mouth, trying to ignore the way his tongue exploded in the sweet, fruit taste. He hadn’t eaten anything properly in days, and maybe that was why it tasted so good, but more likely it was just the fact that everything sweet tasted even better when he was on his come downs. 

“We need to talk, Arseny,” Gideon interrupted, ignoring the way Spencer pined to go back in for a second mouthful, but chose to hand the bowl back to her with a small smile. 

“We are on first name basis?” Lysowsky asked, shaking his head, and she took a small bite of the sweet cake for herself, “I still don’t even know who you are,” 

“I think I understand something about this,” Gideon replied, his thumbs tapping together, the waiter returning with his borscht, “You have a problem,” 

“I do?” The pahkan titled his head at the agent, the annoyance clear on his face. 

“That’s why you came to the Chernus’ house this morning,” Gideon answered, unbothered as he began to scoop the borscht onto the spoon, the apple cake in her own mouth going down a treat. 

She kept her head down, took tiny bites of the dessert that certainly tasted like a fresh baked sharlotka. But her thoughts lingered on what Lysowsky had said, about his own favourite pudding. 

It made no sense that he would have ever tasted Leningradsky shortbread, not for the time that he was born, nor with the amount of money he claimed his family lacked. Infact, the way he fully pronounced his vowels, the akanye, the stress he put on certain parts of his words, all pointed to the same dialect you’d heard back in Moscow, more central than anything else. 

So how on earth would he have eaten the so-called ‘Royal Cake’ that had only been made eight hours from there, in the town it grew its name from. 

There was something glaringly obvious about his story missing. 

“A man like me?” She tuned back into the conversation, swallowing another mouthful down as Gideon took another bite himself, though it seemed the topic had turned sour as Arseny wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. 

“Four watchtowers and a convict signifies a stay in prison,” Spencer cut in, nodding towards the tattoos branded across his knuckles, “Each one of those crosses symbolises an individual sentence,” 

“Twenty three years in prison in the Ural mountains,” 

But she was still stuck on what it was she was missing. It had been such an odd thing to lie about, particularly when he’d even admitted himself that they hadn’t had much money, so he clearly hadn’t been lying to fake a reputation. 

So why lie?

She was ripped out of her stumped silence when Natalya entered the restaurant, her voice grabbing the men’s attention immediately. 

“Mr Lysowsky. You said you could help me,” She said, her purse over her shoulder and her own car keys gripped tightly in her hand as if she’d all but thrown herself out the vehicle to get there faster. 

“Don’t you already have help,” Lysowsky snapped, clearly Gideon had dug under his skin enough to garner a reaction. 

“I made a mistake,” Natalya replied, barely meeting Bugsy’s gaze as she stared at her from her seat at the table. “I talked to my father on the phone,” 

The girl frowned at her, “That’s a lie,” It came out before she could hold herself, brows furrowed at whatever it was she was trying to pull. Gideon said her name in a reprimand, though he too was looking at the woman as if she’d grown a second head. 

“Thankyou for coming, but I don’t need your help,” The woman met her confused look with a saddened expression, nodding to her solemnly. 

Leave it alone, she seemed to be saying, there’s nothing more I want you to do. 

And with that, the two of them left the restaurant, Natalya walking by his side obediently, her purse tucked in close under her arm, as Morgan and Cramer filed in from the parking lot, watching their only leads drive away without a fight. 

–

The team were quick to head back to Natalya’s home, only to find the ear missing and the finger gone too, the only evidence left of any crime being committed leaving with the victim’s daughter herself. 

“She’s not here, and the garbage was never taken out,” Morgan said with a grimace as he walked down the front steps to meet the four of them on the sidewalk. 

“Her dad just went missing, surely we can cut the girl some slack-” Bugsy words were hidden in a huff, rolling your eyes at the man who cut a glance to her. 

“No, no. When Hotch first talked to us, he said she noticed her father’s car in the driveway when she took the garbage out,” Morgan explained, his shades blocking the way the cogs turned behind his dark eyes. 

“Right?” Reid asked, his own sunglasses now covering his eyes that winced at the brightness, surrounding them.

“Garbage can in the kitchen is completely full, she never took it out.” 

“She lied,” Gideon said with finality, the penny beginning to drop for him too. 

“She could be half way back to Dolgo-whatever by now,” Morgan scoffed, his arms smacking against his side as the lightbulb went off over her head, the final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Dolgoprudny?” Spencer asked, exchanging a glance with Cramer, “Isn’t that where Lysowsky’s from-”

“Yes, YES, of course!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto Spencer’s arm as he spoke. 

He looked at her with wide eyes, not that she could see since his shades blocked the way, only to feel her shake him harder in the midst of her enthusiasm. Part of him wanted to rip his arm out of her grip, waiting for the sickness to crawl up his throat at a strangers germs touching him, but the oddest part of him reasoned she had the same germs as Emily did, that the fifty percent DNA the women shared negated the fact she was a stranger, just as it did when he met Jack. Jack had Hotch germs. Bugsy had Emily’s. He didn’t feel so sick thinking of it like that. 

“I knew I was missing something,” She said, turning to Gideon, “He was lying before, about his favourite dessert. There was no way he could have had Leningradsky with his mother. Given his age, at that time in Soviet Russia, shortbread was incredibly expensive, only extremely wealthy families could have eaten it. That, and given the Central dialect he speaks in, I’d pinpointed he lives somewhere near or around Moscow, which means there was no way he was eating that cake considering it was only ever baked in one shop at first, one way up in Leningrad, where St Petersburg is now, like nine hours away from Moscow-” 

“What’s your point?” Cramer asked, tired of the somewhat slew of thoughts she’d been saving until she knew for sure what she meant. 

“Before when he said it was ‘our favourite’, I don’t think he was talking about him and his mother,” She explained, looking to see if Spencer at least understood what she was getting at. 

“It was him and his own child…” Spencer finished, as Morgan’s phone began ringing.

“Yeah, what?” He asked, the frustration clear in his tone that they were all still without the evidence needed to pin it on Lysowsky, “You’re sure? Uh-huh. Okay, thanks doll,” 

The four of them looked at him expectantly as he nodded to her, “Garcia just got into the bank’s system, somebody wired 500 thousand dollars into the account ten minutes ago,”

“Who wired it?” Spencer asked, though he was still reeling from the way she’d touched him, the way her voice went up about five octaves and a dozen decibels.

“She didn’t say, but the name on the account is Lyov Fulenko. She says that’s Lysowsky’s wife’s maiden name. Fulenko.” Morgan replied, and her brows furrowed. 

“Why did she bring us into this?” Gideon asked, though the solemn look on his face said he already knew, “Because she needed to put pressure on the other victim,” 

Gideon headed towards Mr Gorban’s house once more, though it was clear he had already sketched out in his head who was their unsub and Natalya’s involvement, he simply needed the confirmation. 

Morgan clapped a hand on her back, “Nice job, baby Prentiss. Those were some mean profiling skills out there,”

She frowned at him, scoffing,  “I’m not a profiler, that’s Emily’s job. It was just basic linguistics really; more a display of how I need to lay off cake for a while.”

The man kissed his teeth with a grin, “Don’t put yourself down. What’s your degree even in?”

She shrugged, picking under her nails for something to do, “Individualised genomics and health.” She said as if it were child’s play, though Spencer’s head shot to her. 

“Biotechnology?” He asked, and she glanced at him with a nod, “What’s your thesis on?” 

Gideon had returned by the time he’s asked, and began corralling the two of them back to the car, “We’re heading back to the restaurant. We need to speak with Lysowsky again,” 

But it had fallen on deaf ears as Spencer looked at her expectantly. 

“Just some new research into prenatal screening, nothing too fun,” She simpered, climbing into the back seat as he nodded with her. 

“I read a fascinating paper on the uses of hCG in a woman’s body-” 

“Reid,” Gideon cut him off with a short glance from the front seat, “Continue this conversation once we’ve found Mr Chernus alive,” 

Spencer blushed, feeling like a kid caught in the cookie jar, “Sorry, sir,” He looked over at her, only to see her hiding a smile to herself. 

He thinks it was then he’d decided Emily had been wrong about her.

-

“You paid the ransom already,” Gideon said plainly, the four of them trailing behind him as he followed Lysowsky to a small seating area in the front of the restaurant. She could tell the whole way Spencer had been itching to ask her more questions about her paper, barely contained as his fingers had twitched in his lap, but he seemed to straighten himself out once she’d reached the restaurant, “You paid all the ransoms,”

“Sit,” The boss ordered, barely glancing at them as he held his strong whiskey up.

“Are they going to kill Mr Chernus?” Morgan asked, cutting to the chase as Lysowsky spared him a bored glance.

“No,” He replied shortly, the look on his face about as grumpy as when they’d left. 

“The account is in the name of Lyov Fulenko. Lyov is a man’s name.” Spencer input, crossing his arms as the boss glared at him, “A son’s name. Vory v Zakone. Never have a family of your own. No wife. No children.”

“Lyov,” He looked at her then, gesturing to her with the glass of strong liquor, “You know what it means?”

“The Lion,” She replied gravely, steeling herself against his dark eyes. 

“No one else would be so stupid,” Lysowsky ran a hand over his weathered face, swigging his drink as if it was the only thing keeping him talking. “At first it didn’t mean much. It was a way of letting him earn his own money. I could afford it, it came from the fund. And no one questions the use of the fund-”

“Where is he?” Gideon asked, his elbows on his knees as he leaned in.

“What else could I do?” He was ignored, “I couldn’t admit I wasn’t blessing the kidnappings, I couldn’t even admit my son existed.” He huffed when he saw Gideon’s face unmoving from the glower, his question still unanswered, “Chernus will be home in a few minutes. You should be there, he will need medical attention,” He shooed them away, with his final words, drink sloshing in his hand. His face darkened, impossibly so, and the five of them looked at him, something sad and remorseful shining back. 

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer. 

“Vory v Zakone.” He said heavily, nodding to her, “We take care of our own troubles.”

It was a silent journey back to the Chernus’ house. 

-

Morgan and Reid pulled up to the campus, the younger girl in the back seat almost dozing off with the rhythmic hum of the engine, the evening sun much nicer on Spencer’s sensitive eyes. 

“This is you, baby Prentiss,” Derek’s voice jolted her out of the half sleep she was in, straightening herself from where she had her head pressed against the window. 

“Thanks,” She muttered, rubbing her eyes and unbuckling herself as they did the same, assuming they wanted to walk her back to her dorm since it had gotten dark, “I’ll be okay on my own, campus security should be out by now,”

“You sure?” Reid asked, flicking his watch up to his eyes to see the meagre 6:13pm staring back at him, “I thought they started at 7,”

She blinked at him, her eyebrows quirking for a moment, “How do you know that?”

“Johns Hopkins was my backup option- well actually it was my third, I much preferred Caltech’s curriculum, Yale was my second-” He started, flicking a glance to her where she waited for him to finish, “Not that Johns was bad, there were just better- alternative options out there-” 

“Don’t shit your pants, I’m hardly the dean of the university,” She chuckled indignantly patting them both on the shoulder before sliding over to open the door, “Nice meeting you both, I’ll just get back to my mediocre college with my poor curriculum, nothing like the solid gold bathrooms at Caltech-”

“I never said that!” She laughed again, with her whole chest, at his defensive tone as she stepped out the car, hand on the door to shut it behind her. 

Leaning down to give them both a wave goodbye, Derek’s voice stopped her again, “Baby Prentiss, do us all a favour and enrol yourself into forensics, we need more people on our team,”

Smirking at him, she shook her head, “Very funny. Never gonna happen. I like my little slides and samples, thankyou,” 

Slamming the door on the two of them she headed for the front gates, swinging her purse over her shoulder. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, and she quickly realised she’d been too tired to even realise a set of footsteps jogging after her. 

Maybe she should have taken that walk home after all. 

Whirling around, her eyes widened as Spencer had clearly not been leader of the track team as he was half out of breath just from the few feet he’d covered, though she reckoned she could have guessed that seeing his lean ribs beneath his shirt.

He shoved a business card in her face as he caught his breath, though it was more just his name and credentials followed by a phone number. 

“I-I don’t have email otherwise I would-” He huffed, scratching his forehead as she frowned and looked at him.

“I’ve never been hit on via business card before,” She bit her lip with a smile, reading over the card again as he choked on his words even more than before.

“N-no, I-” He spluttered, ignoring the way Morgan beeped the horn for him, seemingly in a debate with a ticket metre that had caught him parked on yellow, “If you needed us for anything, or if you needed a second pair of eyes for your thesis, I’m happy to help,”

“You don’t have faith in the dummy that got into Johns?” She asked, and his head couldn’t shake fast enough, though he seemed to catch her teasing and shared her smile, “Thanks, Dr Reid,” 

“Spencer’s just fine,” He said, giving her a small nod and a wave as Morgan’s palm bounced on the horn a dozen times. She flashed him one more smile, pocketing his number and heading back to her dorm, wondering what the doctor would think about the paper due in tomorrow she’d yet to get started on.

+1. The one where you get arrested.

The case had been heavy. They’d felt it in the car on the way back to headquarters. A little girl, molested and groomed by her own uncle, his own wife covering for him. 

His mother always told him love makes you do crazy things, but Spencer hoped that whatever part of him worth loving would at least stay sane by the time he found the one. He was loyal to his team, to his mother, but that was where he drew the line. He was loyal to his family, undoubtedly so. 

Yet so was Emily. 

The call came to the second SUV, her phone set up to hands free mode, quickly flicking to answer the call on speaker, the other half of the team ahead of them on the freeway. 

“Prentiss, speaking. Who is this?” She spoke clearly to the unknown number, her knuckles going white at the wheel when she heard a nervous laugh.

“It’s me,” Her sister mumbled through the speaker, “You wouldn’t by any chance be near DC would you?” 

She huffed, cursing the knack Prentiss women had for showing up at the worst times. 

“Can’t this wait, I’m on the clock,” Emily hissed, her finger edging towards the ‘End Call’ button, “I’ll call you after,”

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” As if sensing her movements, she all but screeched, “This was my one phone call, they won’t let me have another,” 

The car went silent for a moment, Spencer’s eyes narrowing on the dash from his place in the passenger seat, JJ also leaning forward from the back with a frown. 

Emily grit her teeth, her upper lip twitching the way it did when she was mad. 

“What do you mean by one phone call? Where are you?” She bit in a cautious tone, though knowing how reckless Bugsy tended to be, she had a pretty good idea. 

The hesitation on the other end of the line was palpable, as was the way she awkwardly cleared her throat. 

“Fairfax County Jail,” She murmured sheepishly, “But it wasn’t my fault, these assholes don’t know what they’re talking about, I swear-”

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” Emily ordered, her expression furrowing into a sneer, “And for the love of god don’t antagonise the officers,” 

The agent didn’t even wait for a response, knowing it would probably be something snarky, her mind already racing at what the hell her sister could have done this time, every worst possible explanation jumping to the forefront. 

“I’ll call Hotch and tell him to turn around,” JJ offered, her fingers already searching her contacts for their boss, as Emily sighed through her nose. 

“Tell him not to worry, I’ll drop you guys back to headquarters, make my way there myself,” She said, picking the skin of her nail softly with her thumb. 

“By the time we’ve reached Quantico, visiting times will be over and she’ll have to stay the night,” Spencer pointed out, his own surprise evident. Sure, she had certainly been a personality when they had met, but a criminal seemed a stretch. 

“Maybe it would teach her a lesson,” Emily mused, shaking her head to herself, “Who am I kidding, that psycho would Shawshank her way out of there by dawn,”

“You don’t actually think she would hurt anyone do you?” JJ said, the dial tone ringing out from the phone she held to her ear. 

“Wouldn’t put it past her. She once cut a girl's pigtail off for wearing the same dress as her on her birthday,” Emily winced as Spencer’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. 

“I thought getting swirlied was bad,” He muttered, watching out the window as Emily made a U-turn at the traffic lights. He and the now twenty three year old had been bouncing research papers back and forth for a few months, the odd one every week, Bugsy even once joking it was much more interesting and riveting than foreplay, which had his face red hot at his desk.

She was like that, he’d quickly realised, had a vulgar sort of humour about her, yet he couldn’t help the snigger that came out whenever he’d receive one of his papers back through the mail with pink writing scrawled all over his ideas. The little hearts that dotted her exclamations whenever she wrote “AMAZING!”, the odd time she’d written “sexy ideas, doctor Reid” which he’d come to understand meant it was really good. He’d even gotten back the drawing at the end of the paper of a stickman of the two of them, his hair a curly scribble and a purple tie which told him immediately who was who, her line of a hand pointing at his caricature with the speech bubble, “everyone point and wave at the smart man,” which had made him laugh. 

She was odd, toeing the line between childish and witty, nothing like the scholars he usually worked with, and the writing he usually sent back on her papers were all in standard black ink, his own pharmacist handwriting staring back at him as he crammed in his every thought of her research into the margins. If she couldn’t read it, she hadn’t said, but he liked to think she took notice of it all, even if it wasn’t strewn with stars and doodles and the occasional flirt he knew meant nothing. He knew her from her writing, knew her from her ideas that sometimes kept him up at night thinking more about them, but the two of them hadn’t spoken directly, most certainty hadn’t seen one another since that day with the Chernus’.

Emily hummed, fingers drumming on the wheel, entirely unaware of the thoughts rattling around in Spencer’s head, then again that’s how it always was, “I just pray to god she’s listened to me for once in her damn life and keeps quiet,”

-

“Fucking bitch. The nuns in Moscow hit harder than you,” She spat, blood dribbling from her split lip. She wasn’t entirely lying, but god did her mouth sing with pain as she tried to muffle a moan. 

“You got jokes, pig lover?” The other woman asked, a tattoo covering half her cheek, her nose crooked from the shiner the Prentiss girl had already given her. “Won’t be fucking laughing when I’m done, bitch,” The woman was quick to tackle the girl around her stomach, slamming her into the hard concrete of the holding cell. Bugsy felt her skull rattle, the wind whooshing from her chest as rough hands grab her shirt and pin her down harder. 

The younger girl reached the nerve under her opponent's armpit, the soft of her ribs, twisting until the woman gave a bark of shock, and she took the opportunity to shove her off, climbing on top of her as they both scrambled for some sort of control.

“I got one for you. What’s got a broken nose, a black eye and doesn’t know what’s good for her?” She swung twice as hard, the other women in the cell rattling against the bars as if watching a matador taunt a bull, the air thick with excitement as the two of them cursed eachother out.

Emily’s sigh was audible across the room as the wardens separated the cat fight, the largest of the officers all but grabbing her sister by the scruff of the neck like a feral beast, dragging her over with stubborn feet to where the BAU stood in the lobby, eyes widened at the state of her. 

“You better start acting your age, little girl. Mommy’s not gonna be around forever to save you,” The officer hissed in her ear, manhandling her over to where Emily glared daggers into the side of her head. She knew that look, it was eerily similar to mom’s that time she’d been caught sneaking out of the house, something in the warm brown of Emily’s eyes frosting over into a cold blackness. Fury. 

She chewed her words for a moment, waiting until the man had turned around with a grunt of acknowledgement to the badge Emily had flashed to get his attention, before she spoke. 

“She’s not my mom, she's my sister, dumbass-” Emily slapped a hand over her mouth, gripping her shoulder with the bear-like strength her jagged nails possessed when she was mad, the scoff of disgrace leaving her mouth as her team trailed behind the two of them. 

“What the hell happened, baby Prentiss?” Morgan asked, ignoring the way Emily’s heated gaze turned on him, “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Don’t entertain her, Morgan,” Emily seethed, all but shoving her into the back of the SUV. She looked up at her sister with an open mouth, the guilt flashing in her eyes as she wavered under the pointing finger Emily jabbed in her face, “Don't you even dare,” 

“But-” She stammered, cut off when she saw the glare intensified, if that had even been possible. 

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day unless you’re prepared to give me a good explanation why I’ve dragged my team out here to save your sorry ass,” Emily hissed, and the girl’s mouth bobbed a few times, feeling the rest of the team watching as she got thoroughly chewed out. 

“Wait-” Emily’s hand lingered at the car door, ready to slam it in her face as she rubbed her cuff over her chin, mopping up the damage. Her head tilted for a moment, hoping her sister had something good to say, only for it to be; “He just called you old, I hope you realise that,”

Emily’s gaze darkened, slamming the door shut with an anger she imagined her mother had kept warm for the past twenty three years, whirling around heatedly when she heard a snigger from one Derek Morgan. 

“Damn, mama, hear the girl out.” He said, slapping a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he passed, heading back to their own SUV, “Maybe she’ll surprise you,” 

If Emily was going to bite anything back, she didn’t. Instead she ran a hand over her brow, the group disbanding to their cars now the problem child had been picked up from daycare, except for Hotch who watched the older Prentiss with a scowl, despite the worry in his eyes. 

“Hotch, I’m so sorry, just take it off my timecard, I’ll cover all the costs,” She said shakily, her own frown adorning her face as she felt herself blush from embarrassment under her boss’s gaze. 

“I understand she’s your sister, but this was a gross misuse of agent time and resources, Prentiss,” He said, his gaze drifting to where Spencer sat next to the girl, pulling a packet of tissues and hand sanitizer out of his satchel while JJ rooted through her own purse for a plaster, “Don’t let it happen again,” 

Emily nodded vehemently, flushed with anger, her palms sticky as she wiped them on her jeans. 

“Absolutely sir. Believe me, this ever happens again, she’s on her own,” She replied, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Emily would never. 

He nodded stonily, deciding quickly that it was punishment enough that she felt so ashamed, he knew from his years of arguments with Sean what it was like to have a sibling stray so far. 

“We can fill out reports in the morning, just get Reid and JJ home,” Hotch said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder as he passed her to head towards his own vehicle, “And try not to kill each other in the company car. It doesn’t look good on paperwork,” 

She beat off the smile on her lips as she got back into the driver's seat, the air that engulfed the four of them foul as she glared over her shoulder and into the back. Spencer twitched in his seat uncomfortably, his hand still passing over tissues to the bloodied girl. 

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” Emily asked, her tone brittle and warning, not in the mood for any snarky response she could give, “Or is this old lady going to have to lay into you some more,” 

The smell of strong ethanol engulfed her nose as she held the soaked tissue to her face, frowning into her lap silently and avoiding the burning stare as Emily stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.

“Let’s start with why you were there,” JJ input, the same tone of voice she used as when talking to victims, calm and motherly, unlike the pissed off snarl Emily gave, “You wanna tell us why you were arrested?”

“You two really gonna pull the good cop, bad cop on me?” She snapped, her lip swelling around the wound, tongue grazing it softly despite the heavy taste of the sanitizer.

Emily said her name in a warning, her last warning, and she knew better than to push her luck even more, the SUV pulling out of the station and onto the road. 

“I was just shopping for groceries,” She started, fiddling with the bloodied tissue, wincing under her tongue stroke, “Store clerk made a pass at me, I told him I wasn’t interested. So he put a pack of smokes in my handbag while I wasn’t looking; the alarms went off. I didn’t even know what was happening until security grabbed me at the door,” 

JJ flashed a glance at Emily, like two parents deciding an appropriate punishment, the brunette’s lips straightening out into a line. 

“You’re telling the truth?” She asked cautiously, glancing in the rear view mirror to see how her sister balled the mess of paper between her palms. 

Rolling her eyes, she gladly accepted the other packet of tissues Spencer slid over the leather seat between them. 

“I went out for milk and oranges, I was not looking to get picked up, Em,” She bit back, groaning when she felt it jostle the cut, “And certainly not for cigarettes, you know I only smoke on New Years,” 

Spencer looked at her with a frown, and she caught his confusion quickly, pulling another leaf of paper from the packet. 

“Emily and I had a rule after she caught me smoking when I was like fourteen, that we could have one cigarette between the two of us on New Years eve,” She explained, JJ also perking up to hear it, “So that by the time morning came around, it would be last year’s mistake, and it would be like it never happened,” 

JJ smiled to herself, remembering the time she caught Roz sneaking one of her dad’s cigarettes on the back porch back when she was just ten. She remembered the little secrets the two of them kept back then, held them even all these years later. 

“So how did that lead to, well,” JJ gestured to her lip, “That,” 

“Yeah, didn’t I specifically tell you to not antagonise anyone?” Emily chimed in, signalling she was changing lanes as they headed down the freeway for a second time that day.

“Technically you said not to antagonise the officers,” She pointed out, before Spencer had the chance to, shutting his mouth as he caught the glare Emily shot through the mirror.

“Keep talking,” The older Prentiss ordered, as Bugsy sighed and blotted her lip some more. 

“That woman, Mira I think her name was, anyway, she recognised me from that picture mom had us take on Independence Day, the one they put in The Hill, and she asked me if it was true my sister was a fed,” 

Emily’s fingers twitched at the wheel, knowing the status agents and even people associated with agents held in prisons; knowing just being a Prentiss in a jail cell held a big, dazzling price over her head that said ‘kill me, kill me!”

The air sucked out of the car, a look passing between JJ and Reid as they thought the same thing, waiting for her to go on. 

“So then you hit her?” Emily guessed, the bitterness slowly ebbing as she understood maybe her sister wasn’t as unruly as she thought. 

“No, I told her to leave me the fuck alone, but she said you guys sent her brother down for something a while back, and she asked again if my family were all Pigs,” She picked her nails, the blood stain on her sleeve staring back at her, “I told her if she didn’t stop calling you a Pig, I’d make her squeal like one. And then I hit her,” 

Emily tried to pretend she didn’t smile hearing that, her cheeks tightening, lips pulling down as she fended it off. 

“Is that good enough, officers, or will you be needing fingerprints?” The girl chimed after a moment, a weight seemingly lifted from the car as Emily quickly realised she had, for once, not been entirely at fault. 

“I want a handwritten apology to my boss for wasting his time,” Emily demanded, her unforgiving gaze softening when she saw her smile, “And you owe my team coffee,”

“I can do coffee, coffee coming right up,” She agreed, shoving the used tissues into her purse with a crooked smile, “It’s a date,”

Spencers ears turned red, looking over the seat at where she dabbed at her lip gently. She didn’t look much older for six months, but she had gotten her nose pierced since the last time he’d seen her, unless he just hadn’t noticed it before, and the streaks of red were slowly fading out into a blush pink that said it was old, and he wondered if she’d done it herself in that tiny little cubicle bathroom of hers she shared with the four other girls in her block. 

“You finished your stats papers yet?” He made polite conversation, though part of him was dying to know out of curiosity if she could crunch numbers and equations as well as she could in her own labs. 

“Got two more this week, they’re kicking my ass man,” She replied with a huff, and he didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘man’ by a woman before. He knew if he’d known her in college, ignoring the fact he would have been twelve, he would have thought she may just be the coolest person alive, “I miss my labs with my microscopes and watching all the little baby cells move around in the ethanol. Stats are like, just not sexy,” 

He smiled at her as she stared out the window, unaware of the way she’d managed to make DNA sound like a play pen full of kittens. He held off from telling her he found stats really quite sexy, knowing it would never sound the same coming from his mouth.

He pulled a leaf of the tissues from the packet, producing his own pen from his pocket and began doodling carefully so as not to rip the delicate canvas. 

Sliding it over to her after five minutes as Emily and JJ made conversation in the front seat, she didn’t care that the grin tugged on her split lip, the reaction was instant, she couldn’t stop it if she tried. 

Two stick men stared back at her, her hair a close match in texture and a childish triangle drawn as means of a dress, a very tall stick figure next to her patting her metaphorical head, a speech bubble coming from his mouth. 

“Maths is fun!” It said, and she flicked a glance at him, her smile the most genuine he’d seen yet. He just smiled back. 

+2. The one where you graduate

Emily felt the looks on her the moment JJ had mentioned Maryland. The case was a little under their pay grade, nothing more than a stalker, no bodies or bloodshed, but one very rattled woman that had turned to the communications liaison with fear for her life. 

With Hotch and Rossi in Boston helping a case of their own, the rest of the BAU had been twiddling their thumbs waiting for something to come across their desk. 

“This case is in my hands now, and if we do nothing and something happens to her,” JJ took a heavy breath, her eyes lingering on the three names Keri had given her in case of her untimely death, “I’ll be the one notifying her family,”

Derek, despite his own hesitations about using their time for a case like this, caved the moment he saw the guilt on the blonde’s face. 

“Okay,” He shuffled the papers into a pile, Emily and Spencer gathering their own resources on the case and standing from the round table. 

Luckily, one government SUV was more than enough to carry the four of them for the hour drive North, all of them well aware Hotch would flip if they used more funds than necessary.

JJ piled into the front beside where Morgan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving Emily next to a particularly fidgety Reid. It took all of fifteen minutes of the man flicking a glance at her, his mouth quirking as if he were about to use it, before he thought better and looked out the window, and the whole thing would start again. 

Derek, the less shy about his thoughts of the two men, even glanced at her through the rear view mirror, before he too returned his gaze out the window silently. JJ shifted in her seat, knowing she had to tread carefully around mentioning Bugsy to Emily, particularly after the last time they’d seen her. Emily had said they’d grabbed coffee once or twice since then, but that was all she spoke about it, which left her team walking cracked eggshells at the thought of bringing her up. 

It seemed the three of them were bursting at the seams with the same thought, and it wasn’t until Reid cleared his voice, his puppy eyes stuck in his loop, that she had had enough. 

“Does anyone here have something to say?” Emily huffed, Derek immediately reaching to turn the radio up the same time that JJ flicked the AC on for something to do. Realising they weren’t easily broken, she turned to Spencer who already looked slightly guilty, thumbing at his sweater, “Reid?”

“Did you want to see your sister?” He asked without hesitation, as if the words had fallen out of him, “You know, since we’re so close on this case. It would be a good excuse to-”

“You did say she owed us a coffee,” JJ pointed out, spurred on by Spencer’s nerves, “Wouldn’t mind cashing in if we’re coming all this way.”

“Morgan, do you have anything to add?” Emily asked with raised brows, though she already knew what was coming.

Derek chewed over his thoughts a second, “I’m just saying, you only get to see your baby sisters grow up once- you know, and it couldn’t hurt to see her even if she runs rings around you with that smart mouth-”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the case?” Emily cut him off incredulously, but received three knowing looks back. She met JJ’s gaze where the woman had swivelled in her seat to talk to her, and Prentiss was fast to catch the buried grief in her best friend’s eyes. She knew it pained her to even bring up sisterhood, let alone watch Emily throw hers away for the sake of a decade and a half between them. It was the desperation in JJ’s face that did it, knowing she would give anything to spend just an hour with Roz one more time, that had her drawing her cell out her pocket and calling the contact with the little ladybug next to it, “Fine,”

As a profiler she would have been tempted to ignore the way Spencer smiled into his lap; as a sister, her eyes narrowed at him.

The phone rang surprisingly only once before she answered, and she heard an unnaturally tame version of her sister answer.

“Emily?” She asked, her voice hushed, worried almost, “You okay?”

Her brows furrowed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” She got no more than a hum in return, somewhat agreeing though Emily could tell clear as day she was holding something back. “Look, we’re gonna be in Silver Spring, I was thinking tomorrow we could grab lunch-” 

“Can’t, I’m busy, it’s an all day thing,” Her sister cut her off, yet it wasn’t rude or demeaning like usual. Nervous almost, sad, “Sorry,”

“What’s an all day thing?” Emily asked, the concern matching her words. 

Her sister swallowed on the other end of the phone, before she found her words, or maybe even the balls to actually speak, “I’m graduating tomorrow,”

Emily’s face lit up, the smile spreading fast on her face, ignoring the way Morgan’s words seemed to ring true in her ears; she was growing up too fast. 

“Graduating, why didn’t you say!” She asked, the joy in her tone unmissable, “How’d your papers go?”

Spencer held himself off from correcting her that she’d only done five papers, that the rest of her results had come from theory and labs, thinking better than to interrupt the one conversation they’d had where there was no underlying argument brewing. 

“Full honours, obviously.” Bugsy drawled with a snicker, and Emily shook her head, the smile never dimming. 

“Look at you, y’little superstar,” Emily bit her lip, ignoring the guilt that tore at her when she realised she barely knew what Bug spent her days doing, “Did Mom and Dad get good seats? Oh god, dad’s not bringing Stephanie is he?”

The silence on the other end had her halting, the light in the conversation wavering for a second, before she understood the nerves, the quick defence her sister had been on the moment the call had been answered. 

“Bug-”

“They’re not coming,” Her heart ached in her chest hearing it, “I sent Mom the details, she said she’s in Ukraine this week settling some papers. Didn’t even get a chance to ask Dad before he and Stephanie were off on their fifth honeymoon in the Bahamas until October,” A painful laugh echoed down the line, as if she were holding back the gravity of the situation. 

“Bug,” Emily tried again, picking her thumb viciously, punishingly, hating herself for being so blind to her sister’s troubles, “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Came the reply, sad and tender, the most honest she’d heard in a while, “You’re always busy,” 

“Never too busy for you,” Emily’s guilt tripled when her sister didn’t answer, knowing if she were to counter the statement with hard evidence it would only hurt both of them, “Look, I have some time today, probably,” She didn’t, not even a few minutes, “Why don’t we get that coffee, you don’t even have to pay,”

Bugsy gave a sad laugh, “Sorry, Em, I gotta get my dress fitted today, and some of the lab techs invited me to a party later. Maybe some other time,”

“A party with biology nerds?” Emily asked with false excitement, the air turned stagnant between them now, “Well, rock on, science freak. Don’t leave your drinks with strangers, and don’t walk home alone, and for god sake use protection-”

“Bye, Emily,” She said with a chuckle, the older of the two gracing her with the same, as they put the phone down. 

The car was quiet, waiting for Prentiss to speak, none of them missing the way her lip pulled between her teeth, a bitterness on her face that told them she was holding in something close to sadness. You’re always busy. It echoed around her head, stabbing at her chest to think her sister was graduating alone, no one to congratulate her, no one to pat her on the back and tell her how clever she is despite the fact Bugsy would happily tell anyone just how smart she was on her own. Never too busy for you. 

“She’s graduating tomorrow,” She said to the three people waiting for an update, Spencer’s brows shooting to his hairline. He hadn’t heard from her since her last paper got sent off, and why would he? They had exchanged a few little anecdotes and doodles, sent each other research papers to be graded like teachers exchanging lecture notes, “She didn’t even tell me. She’s gonna be alone,” 

JJ grimaced, “What? What about your mom- or, or your dad, an uncle, someone-” 

“Mom and dad are out of the country, Mom’s brother lives in Mexico with his seven kids, he can barely get a night’s sleep let alone a day off to travel up to Maryland. Dad’s sisters passed away when I was a kid,” Emily explained, running a hand over her face, “I can’t let her go up there alone,”

“So we don’t,” Spencer said, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life, “We don’t let her do it alone,”

-

“Graduating with Masters in Biotechnology; Jasper Adams, Tom Adamson, Kristen Afkins, Gavin Agriths-” 

The dean read off the names of the students as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. 

The dress fit beautifully, her make up done to near perfection, her hair styled neatly, she was graduating with full honours for christ sakes. Why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had? Why had she got to be so spoiled? 

Lots of peoples parents missed their graduation, lots of people her age didn’t even have parents anymore, she ought to be grateful her mother was increasing famine aid in foreign countries, all the lives she would save, or even be happy her father had found a pretty, rich new wife to tour every known vacation destination with. Or even that her sister had called her just yesterday and told her in a few words she was proud of her. 

But none of them quelled the feeling of loneliness that blossomed inside Bugsy. The kind that had always been there, the kind that just wanted someone in her corner, telling her she was doing pretty good for a kid who raised herself in all those big houses they’d moved to, who saw the au pair more often than her own mother. 

All those rooms were so empty, the houses so quiet besides for her. It was like living in a cemetery. 

“Robert Lewsinsky. Marcus Linford. Tara Lorence. Katie Macauley.” 

P would be up soon. Each name of her classmates drew an applause, some whoops and screams, one family she swore there must have been ten of them in the back row cawing and howling like monkeys at a zoo, proud of their son for making it. 

She willed a smile on her face, hearing Orla Parkins get called up, and she knew just by the steward that directed her where to stand in line she was close. 

“Kenneth Patterson. Joshua Perriman. Harriet Pimms. Lauren Pintons.”

She held a rattled breath as Renly Prackett walked ahead of her, strolling over the stage to collect his degree, flashing the crowd a wide smile and a fist pump. She had always liked Renly, having been his experiment partner for a year, despite the fact he never washed up after himself in the lab. 

Then it was, her name was called. The one no one but her mother and Stephanie ever called her, she solely went by Bugsy courtesy of Emily. It was a family name, a nice one at that. Maybe it had been the fact she had been eight and her cool big sister crowned her the new name, or maybe it just rolled off the tongue better, made her feel less like a Prentiss, that she chose to go by her monika. 

She tried not to think about where or what Emily was doing, only hoping she was safe, as she began walking over the stage, her heels clicking loudly with her hesitant steps. 

To her utmost surprise she heard a loud whistle echo through the auditorium, a group of jeers and screams of her name, even an air horn signing off that had her almost tripping over her own feet turning to see who it was. 

Surely it was a joke, a cruel prank, she barely had any friends in her class. Acquaintances sure, but no one so bold as to make such a fuss over her. 

Squinting down at the audience, her cap nearly slipping off her head as her head turned to the source, she felt her chest burst when she saw the dark hair and bangs, her sisters butchered fingertips in her mouth with a loud cattle whistle, screaming like a firework right to the stage where she graciously accepted her award, despite the fact she barely paid any attention to the dean anymore, more to her sister who smiled at her widely as she clapped. Behind her, her team she’d met on the off chance, the pretty blonde, JJ, who pressed the air horn a few more times, cheering just as loud for her. Morgan, the handsome one who had stood himself on top of his chair, cupping a hand over his mouth to scream “Kicking ass, baby Prentiss!” at her, ignoring the way other people stared wide eyed at them. 

And Spencer, tall enough to be seen over the crowd even without the help of a chair, who smiled at her, clapping those big hands of his loud enough to reach her, his own whoops never ceasing even as she stepped off the stage to head back to her seat. 

The rest of the ceremony dragged, a speech from one of the alumni and the exit music playing, but she simply grinned into her hand, where her degree smiled back at her, counting down the moments she would be allowed to stand. 

And then she was fast walking down the stairs, amongst the bustle of students, the black gowns flurrying around her as she burst out into the square where parents, fiancees, brothers, sisters, cheered their loved ones, pulling them into tight hugs. 

Her eyes scanned the wave of black hats, landing on two dark eyes, the thick sable hair framing the dazzling smile that awaited her with open palms. All but shoving her way through the crowd, she stopped in front of her sister, the urge to jump at her with a hug shying the moment she got close. 

“Told you. Never too busy for you, Bug,” Emily said, pulling her in by her shoulders for a tight hug. She knew her sister wasn’t one to beg for affection, wasn’t one to let her guard drop so soon, but she also knew she’d needed it by the way she melted against her, the way she chuckled into her hair, pulled her closer. 

“Do I owe your boss another letter of apology for this or do I get you guys for free?” The girl asked, as her sister pulled away, keeping an arm around her shoulder as they turned to the rest of the team. 

“No, this one is entirely on us, promise,” JJ said with a smile as she saw Emily beaming maternally over at the girl, the flat of the cap knocking against her cheek as she squeezed her in once more, “We’re very proud of you,” 

She heated under the woman’s words, wriggling in her shoes as bad as Emily did when she felt awkward, Derek chuckling and taking the degree out of her hand. 

“Alright, lets see the creds, Prentiss,” He held it up next to her face as she shrugged, the ‘4.0’ clear as day next to her name, “Good looking, and smart. Those boys in the lab ought to watch out,”

She grinned under his teasing, “What can I say, I got the deep end of the gene pool,” She teased, feeling Emily swat her ear, her eyes falling to where Spencer held a plant pot with a poorly wrapped bow of twine around it, the soil a little displaced from the journey.

“This is for you,” He said, handing her the small green sproutling, his cheeks blushing as her face lit up, reading the small inscription on the front, “It’s-”

“Dionaea muscipula,” She said, biting her lip as she smiled at him, “This is so cool! Where on earth did- I had a paper last semester on the ways to study their electrophysiology you just have to read- oh thank you!”

“English, please?” Emily asked, though the warmth flooded her chest when her sister threw her arms around a very rigid Spencer. 

Thinking she should grab her and warn her the man disliked touch almost as much as she does, she was surprised to see him give her a small embrace back, smiling proudly the way he did when he’d made someone happy. 

“Piège à mouches Vénus,” Her sister responded cockily, tugging herself away from the tall man, to inspect her new plant, well aware that Emily rolled her eyes at her use of French, “Venus Fly Trap. I’ve never seen one so young, still I should be able to pull some slides on the Rhizomes in the soil-”

Emily put a hand to her temple, JJ smiling widely as she saw for once Spencer be the one on the receiving end of an earful, chuckling to himself when she began dishing out name ideas for the sapling. 

“Holy shit, there’s two of them,” Morgan grumbled, nudging his shoulder into Emily who simply sighed, her migraine already starting as Reid began jumping in with his own thoughts, which didn’t take much effort.

“Don’t even,” 

+3. The one where you’re taken hostage

“Tell us about the 911 call,” Spencer requests, flicking through the file himself beside her in the back seat. She had her own set of paperwork in front of her, her pen attached to a clipboard the lanyard around her neck reading her real, honest credentials, unlike the fake ones Emily and Reid were given. She’d been to one of these sects before, invited kindly as part of her research on the effect isolation has on cultivation of crops, knew one of the mother’s well from her last research paper, and had managed to get the group a foot in the door to entering the Separtarian Sect with little fuss. 

Hotch, usually hesitant to allow outsiders in on the job, especially as young and spirited as Bugsy, had to admit it would calm any potential unsubs and make them see the team as unthreatening if they had a friendly face there. He’d signed the papers with a frown that morning, and they were on their way to the little apartment the girl occupied just outside Baltimore, sample tubes stuffed into her pack ready. 

“I believe the he that they refer to is the church’s leader, Benjamin Cyrus,” Nancy, a woman from child protective services, replied from the driver's seat, Emily thumbing through her papers as they neared the compound. 

“Benjamin Cyrus, no criminal record; no record of him at all actually,” Reid replied, watching Bugsy scribbling notes into her lab book, perfecting her report before she had even begun, “What else do you know about him?” 

“The sect I spoke to before, the one in Utah, said he was rumoured to be practising polygamy and forced marriages,” The younger woman said, looking back at him with a frown, “They were much more modern in their beliefs than these guys. Last time I spoke to Marina she was happy there, I can’t see why she would want to move here,” 

Spencer looked as if he were about to answer, perhaps to tell her he was sure her contact would be just fine, when Emily shrugged and turned to Nancy. 

“Do we know who the caller is?” She asked, sipping her now lukewarm coffee out of the disposable cup. 

Nancy’s head tilted in a so-so motion, “Uh, Jessica Evansen is the one who the age fits, but we can’t be sure.”

“Well given their view on outsiders, it would be best if you didn’t identify us as FBI.” Emily instructed, handing Reid his new, fake credentials and his gun she’d kept in her bag through customs. “Just use our real names and introduce us as child victim interview experts.” Nancy nodded, the compound coming into view, the dust flurrying under the car wheels as the road turned into nothing more than a sandy path. 

A guard seemed to be expecting their arrival as he stood, unarmed at the main gate, unlatching the bolt in the middle and opening it wide for their vehicle to pass through. She nodded in thanks, her eyes flicking out the dirty window to see a collection of mobile homes surrounding a large church, a few smaller outbuildings dotted around the compound. It was quiet, not full of laughter like the last group she had been to, the children nowhere to be seen, only a few of the handier members of the flock that were either fixing up walls, trimming trees besides a man sprawled too casually on the steps of the chapel, a bible in his hands he seemed to be catching up on. 

The car pulled to a stop in front of the man that barely batted an eye at their arrival, the safety locks flicking off each of the doors, Nancy collecting her briefcase and exiting the car first. 

She had all but reached for the handle when Emily stopped her, swivelling in her seat to look her dead in the eye. 

“Your job is mediator, you got that?” Her sister had never looked more serious, but then again she did know her almost too well, “You and your field research are a… buffer between our investigation and the unsub. Just try to take the focus off what we’re doing, but do not provoke anyone,”

She raised her hands in innocence, “Got it, jeez, what could I possibly do that could ruin this investigation?” 

Emily stared back at her blankly, unnamused, as if they both knew there was a lot she could, and would, do that would blow the whole thing. 

“You look like mom when you give me that look,” She bit back, leaving the car, as Nancy spoke to the man laying on the steps, “It’s terrible,” 

“I’m looking for Mr Benjamin Cyrus?” Nancy reported, her tight, knee length skirt and blouse entirely out of place amongst the dirt track. 

“You found him,” The man replied, still not so much as granting them a glance of interest as he flicked through his passages. 

“I’m Nancy Lunde, we spoke on the phone regarding the allegation,” She replied, which was the only thing that garnered his attention as he looked up at them behind slightly bent reading glasses. 

“Savages they call us; because our manners differ from theirs,” He said, though it was clear it wasn’t entirely his own words, more likely a segment of his preach he’d repeated a handful of times. Bugsy tried to hide her disgust behind her hand tightening around her lab books she kept tightly to her chest. 

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr Cyrus,” Nancy snipped as he approached the group, pocketing the glasses though he kept hold of the bible in hand as if it was part of his own arm. 

“Actually it’s Benjamin Franklin,” Spencer murmured to the woman, which had Cyrus’ cold brown eyes narrowing at the tall man, assessing for a motive.

“Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid. They’re child victim interview experts,” Nancy introduced them quickly, the two of them flashing their badges, the unofficial ones at least. Gesturing to the youngest woman, she introduced her with her real name, his gaze flicking to her as he seemed to recognise it.

“Marina’s friend? The plant lady?” He asked, face half amused as she fought her lip from twitching into a sneer. Instead she smiled, holding out her hand. 

“That’s what they call me,” She said, shaking his hand, ignoring the way he flashed her a cheshire cat smile, “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Marina said I could take some samples for my research,”

He laughed, shaking his head, looking at Spencer, “Women and their flowers, right?” Spencer swallowed back a retort, shrugging his shoulders, though Bugsy’s eye twitched. Benjamin patted her on her shoulder, “Of course you can honey, I’ll find Jared, our head gardner, and you can run along for your research,” 

He said it as if she were lying, that her degree and endless hours of work would only ever chalk up to a few doodles in a notebook, or a garden full of hydrangeas, or tulips, or roses, because she couldn’t possibly care about anything else but pretty flowers. 

Nodding her head graciously, choking back the hateful response she wished to spit in his face, she gave him a polite thankyou, feeling Spencer’s eyes burning into the side of her head. 

“The children are in the school as I indicated,” Cyrus said, turning back to the other three, Emily and Nancy taking off in the direction he pointed, the former knowing her sister was at risk of blowing a fuse if they were here for long. 

Spencer hung back, partially because he had a plan of distraction in mind to allow the women a chance to speak with the children whilst Cyrus wasn’t around, partially because he didn’t want to leave Bugsy anywhere on her own. Sure, Emily had said they were both trained in self defence when they were kids, but with no weapon of her own, he was reluctant. 

“You're using solar power?” He prompted, gesturing towards where the eight blue panels warmed under the Colorado sun.

“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Benjamin nodded along, catching the impressed look on both their faces, “Electricity, food, water. Ben Franklin said ‘God helps those that help themselves,’ you look surprised,” 

“No, impressed actually,” Spencer replied, and he wasn’t entirely lying. The system was incredibly complex, particularly if they received no help from outsiders, for as many people as there were in the compound. 

“Thankyou; for admitting that,” Cyrus said earnestly, flicking his gaze back to Bugsy who studied the solar panels, “I’ll go find Jared, he can take you to the greenhouses,”

Thanking him again, he led the way towards the school where Nancy and Emily had headed, as the two of them exchanged a look, Spencer smiling half piteously, wishing he could shake her and tell her just how smart she was and that Cyrus knew absolutely nothing. 

He didn’t miss the way she walked closer to him, or how she thumbed the corner of her notebook, or how she looked back at him, biting the inside of her cheek. He thinks he might get slapped if he pointed it out, but Emily had the exact same tell when she was nervous, which is why he bumps their shoulders together in means of reassuring her he was still there. 

It was only then she gave him any sort of smile back. 

-

Jared, as expected, had been just as condescending and patronising as Benjamin whilst she slipped on her latex gloves, scooping no more than a handful of homemade fertiliser into one of her test tubes. It had been a partial cover, their story, but she had been telling the truth when she’d contacted Marina and asked if she could drop by. She’d been meaning to expand her field research in hopes of stumbling on a job opportunity since she spent most of her postgraduate days reading while her cat pawed at her leg for more treats than he deserved, the odd phone call with her sister much more common than it had been before. 

She didn’t miss the way Jared’s hand fell into the small of her back as he led her back towards the school, after having noted down a few more readings, fussing over the state of the carrots that seemed to grow entirely naturally thanks to the systems they’d been smart enough to set up. He seemed rather bored by the whole thing, for a head gardener, more interested in staring at her legs as she leaned down to identify the fat black beetle that crawled along the rockery. 

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the school that the sound of tyres on a dirt path met her ears, and she saw five armoured SUVs out the corner of her eye. 

She hadn’t even the time to question what was going on, before Jared’s face dropped, the hand gently holding the soft of her back grabbing on her forearm hard enough to leave bruises, as he was dragging her to the chapel they had seen when they had pulled up.

 Emily had said the rest of the team stayed in Quantico, if it wasn’t them, who was it. 

“Whats going on- who is that?” She asked him lamely, her feet stumbling as she half fought his heavy hand off. 

That was when the shooting started. 

She thinks it came from the compound first, she’d seen two men stationed on top of one of the outbuildings, thinking nothing much of it, until she saw clearly now the assault rifles they bore, pointing it straight at the vehicles that drew closer. The whistle of bullets, bangs of the chambers emptying their artillery, and it wasn’t until she heard the doors to the SUVs start opening, more gunfire began hitting the wall ahead of them that she started running. Running fast, for the cover the church provided until she figured out just what the fuck was happening. 

Jared all but threw her past the chapel door, where Cyrus and four other men were waiting, a heavy barricade in their hands, her chest pounding with adrenaline, she couldn’t help the yelp that left her as Cyrus whirled on her, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking her dead in the eye. 

“Did you know anything about this?” He asked, his calm demeanour cracking when she scrambled for a response, “ANSWER ME,”

“No-no not at all.” She shook her head, voice weaker than she’d like, but the sight of more guns in the men’s hands twisted any resolve she had, “Where are the others- the- the experts-”

“Take her into the tunnels,” Cyrus ignored her question, nodding at one of his men to grab her as Jared armed himself. She felt another callused hand yank on her upper arm, and part of her wondered if that was how men handled all women here, as if they were herding cattle, as she was dragged down into the catacombs below the church. 

They’d made plans for a day like this to come, she realised. 

Her heart constricted at the sound of bullets rattling above them, she hadn't been able to tell in that last moment whether Cyrus believed her or not as, nor whether she was being taken to the tunnels for her own safety or to be questioned harder about the gunmen. 

She could only hope Emily was safe. 

She felt her tongue too big for her mouth as the man all but shoved her into the bunker, the nervous chatter of women and children, some of the more elderly men, as they clung to one another for safety, the scathing remark she would have usually made about his heavy hands failing her as she scanned the room for her sister. 

Emily was faster however, and she nearly yelped again as two bony arms yanked her into a hug, a rare one, and she knew by the blazer and the sigh of relief in her ear it was Em.

Usually she would bat her off, tell her to stop fussing like a mother hen, but today she embraced her right back, trying to note if her sister had any bullet holes in her before she allowed herself the same relief. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Emily asked, the whole thing coming out in a slew of worry, and she nodded, pulling away as if she needed to see the proof in person. 

Bugsy’s eyes were wild, as if she were a doe in a meadow hearing a rifle cocking near. No scratch that, she was a doe being chased and shot at and hunted, narrowly escaping being mounted on a wall. 

“They were all shit shots,” Bugsy said, through a laugh she didn’t quite mean, “You would have done much better.” 

Patting her sister on the shoulder, Emily finally released her when she realised the humour meant she at least had her head on her shoulders. Spencer watched her with meticulous eyes, knowing the shock that registered on her face, knowing it was the same one he wore when he first had shots fired at him. He saw her own eyes quickly check him over, satisfied with a breath of relief when she saw they were both fine. 

“Where’s Lunde?” Emily asked, and she realised then Cyrus had followed her down into the shelter, two of his men grabbing handfuls of guns she had never seen before, likely imported out of country, and returning to the ground level, preparing for more shooting. 

“It wasn’t us,” Cyrus replied, as if that negated the fact their recklessness had gotten the agent killed. 

“What? You can’t shoot it out with the cops, you have children in here,” Emily seethed, her voice harsh and incredulous.

“I didn’t start this,” Cyrus bit back, looking towards his men as they grabbed boxes on boxes of ammunition, “I’ll take the front, you take the roof,” 

And with that they stormed their way back through the tunnels, leaving the three of them to look between each other, knowing this could only end badly. Knowing the only people that could figure out how to get them out of this mess was the BAU, all 1,700 miles away. 

–

They’d been in the bunker for fourteen hours when there was finally movement. The shooting seemed to have quietened down, in which Spencer whispered it was around 11pm and it was likely neither party had a clear shot. She’d managed to fall asleep leaning against the wall, Emily’s blazer draped over her legs. She’d regretted wearing cropped pants, despite how the shade of green complimented her eyes nicely, and she’d been shivering by the time she fell asleep, Emily’s hands stroking her hair gently as if she knew she was struggling to relax. 

She hadn’t realised she was staring at her little sister, frowning even as she slept, which made part of her want to laugh, until she caught Spencer’s tired eyes looking between them, something knowing and warm in his gaze. 

“You know, she’s always scowled in her sleep, ever since she was born,” Emily said, quiet enough it didn’t interrupt the hum of small snores, the odd baby cry that filled the bunker, but loud enough for him to smile at her, “She used to sleep walk terrible too. I’d find her in the kitchen trying to make pancakes with a cheese grater. It’s like that big brain of hers doesn’t know how to shut off,” Emily shook her head with a fatigue, rubbing her eyes. 

“Was it weird? Being fourteen years older?” Spencer asked, his own hands shoved into his sleeves to try defend from the draught. Emily thought for a moment, her hand slowing for a second on her sister's hair, before she answered. 

“I felt guilty leaving her in that house with my mom when I went to college,” Emily answered, Bugsy unconsciously tucking her face closer into the jacket, “I think part of her kind of hated me for it for a while.” She went quiet, the shame in her voice thick as the silence that encompassed them, “She’s never been very affectionate you know? Before her graduation I don’t think I’d hugged her in twelve years,”

Spencer held himself back from pointing out that she had been just as touchy with him since they’d met, and that maybe it was Emily’s own regret that seemed to shut the both of them down. He wasn’t one to rub salt in the wound, not since he’d gotten this job and learned to watch what he said. 

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to give her advice, knowing the whole subject of their slowly repairing relationship was a sore one. He had no siblings of his own, had a mother who loved him despite how much she grappled with her own mind, and he had only known the girl briefly enough to consider her a friend at a push. 

“I always thought the two of you were similar,” Emily chose to continue, offering him a small smile. He returned it, his face blushing at the fact that was a huge compliment to him, “Granted, you roll your eyes at me less and don’t act like I’m dumb, but you remind me of her,” 

“Thankyou, I wish that were true,” He replied, eyes flicking to her sleeping form, the way her eyebrows were indeed scrunched in a permanent frown. He wondered if she was actually angry, or if she was just thinking hard, perhaps her dreams were full of equations or labs she needed to sort through. Either way, he wanted to know. “She’s much cooler than I’ll ever be,” 

Emily snorted, shuffling against the wall to cosy herself, “That’s one way to put it,” She said, smiling over at him as he did the same, his head resting against the wall, Bugsy’s legs stretching out to knock against his feet, and he didn’t mind that she scuffed the bottom of his already dirty trousers. “Get some sleep,”

And so they did. 

–

Cyrus had corralled the whole flock into the church, where the shooting had stopped and the bodies had been removed, stating at the break of dawn that there was a hostage negotiator coming in to make sure everyone was safe before they made any deals. 

She sat next to Spencer, the three of them stiff from their sleeping arrangements, and her stomach churned with hunger. It had been over 24 hours since they’d gotten here, and besides the small bit of bread and water Cyrus gave everyone for breakfast, she was starving. 

“Remind me to never leave the house, ever again,” She grumbled, as everyone waited in the pews for the negotiator to arrive, “My cat is gonna be pissed I’ve not fed him,” 

“Since when did you get a cat?” Emily inputted from the other side of Reid, keeping one eye on the door in case any agents start shooting again. 

The girl shrugged, “I got lonely, there’s not much to do now I’m not studying anymore,” 

Reid watched how she clutched her stomach, feeling his own complaining at the lack of nutrition, “Morgan wasn’t lying when he said you should sign up for the academy. We could always use the help, we wouldn’t have solved that case in Baltimore without you,” 

She snickered, nudging his foot with her boot, “You’re being modest, you would have done it just fine,”

He was a little, wasn’t surprised she called his bluff either. “Okay, so probably yes- but it would have taken us a whole lot longer. Mr Chernus likely would have died,” 

She shook her head, glancing at Emily who watched her carefully, “That was all you guys. I just translated.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a glance, leaning back in their uncomfortable seats calmly. 

“You’re probably right,” Spencer said, dusting the dirt off his trousers, “Probably couldn’t handle it, high intensity mind games and such,”

She blanched, looking at him as if he’d grown a second head, not knowing him to be so brutally honest, realistic yes, but not bordering on rude. 

“And it’s a lot of work,” Emily jumped in, her mouth a straight line, “I don’t know if you’d be dedicated enough,”

Bugsy scoffed, indifferently. “I have a masters degree, I was offered a scholarship to do a PHD, asked to be an assistant professor at Yale, I can work hard, Emily,” She snipped, and perhaps she was particularly just hangry or they had struck a nerve with their doubt, “and I could do it if I wanted to, I’d have the best shot they’d ever seen, guaranteed- mom made me take lessons when you left- trust me I could do it-”

She shut up when she saw their small smile exchanged, as if she’d told them a joke, or moreso they’d had the same identical thought and that alone was hilarious. 

Scowling at them, she looked from where Spencer looked almost, almost, guilty at making her the butt of the joke, to where Emily had a ‘told you so’ smirk, and she kissed her teeth at their childishness. 

“Are you guys reverse psychology-ing me? Seriously, so original guys,” She snapped, crossing her arms and straightening herself in her seat, ignoring the snigger that passed between them. 

“You’re not wrong though,” Emily replied quietly as Cyrus walked past them, his eyes falling to them with a frown. Bugsy kept her head down, heeding Emily’s warning of not provoking anyone, and Spencer eyed the way she leaned closer to him.

If she was going to retaliate, whether agreeing or not, she stopped herself, the doors the church opening and an older gentleman walking through the doors, arms full of supplies she’d figured must have been part of the negotiation. He was patted down by an armed guard, searching for his own weapons do doubt, or a wire perhaps, as he handed the box over to another who took it without a thankyou. 

“Rossi,” She heard Reid whisper beside her, and from the look he shot Emily and Spencer she gathered he was from the BAU, just as they’d expected. His eyes fell on her, softening as alot of Emily’s team did when they saw the two of them, as if they were picking her face apart for the tiny ways in which she resembled their Prentiss, or maybe it was the way she curled up in her seat, tired, hungry, on the defence. He just looked sorry for her. 

 “The children,” Cyrus said with no greeting, the air between them particularly frosty. He gestured towards the three of them, though Rossi had already clocked their tired faces staring at him with worry, “And our guests,”

She saw him trying not to react, guessing they had not let it slip to Cyrus he worked with the two undercover FBI agents, looking away from them as if the sight of their forlorn figures was enough to turn him sick. 

Judging by the way Cyrus and he spoke quietly, tensely, Bugsy just hoped they had a plan to get them out of here soon as he soon left with a rigid handshake to the man keeping them hostage. 

–

The three of them had been moved to a backroom a few hours later. Her stomach ached, the little sustenance Rossi had brought being distributed to the community before they’d been offered anything, which hadn’t left much. Reid and Emily had tried to get her to take some of their sharing, and despite how her insides cried out for it, she declined, stating they would be more use than she would; that they needed their strength more than her if they were going to get out of here alive. 

The two of them hadn’t liked that answer judging by the frowns on their faces, but they sat in their seats with little fuss as they waited for things to quieten down after Cyrus’ staged “mass suicide” that had turned out to be nothign more than a test of loyalty and grape juice. 

They had been sat in silence, aside from her foot bouncing on the floor impatiently, as she picked at the threads on her pants, the material uncomfortable on her skin after a day of wearing it. The door slammed open, Cyrus entering the room with nasty scowl. She didn’t know what had changed in the man in a matter of hours as he stormed over to them, two of his men behind him, loaded rifles in their arms. 

This was not good. 

“Which one of you is it?” He asked almost too calm for his demeanour, his eyes flicking between the three of them, where Emily attempted to brush her hair using her fingers, Reid played with the hem of his cardigan, an she sat beside him, resting against the cold stone wall behind them, her eyes narrowing at his furious expression. 

The three of them remained silent, waiting for him to explain more, though clearly it was not the answer he was looking for as he threw his jacket open, revealing a loaded pistol tucked into his jeans. Drawing it into his dominant hand, her body tensed up, her back straightening like a rod as she looked up at him through fear. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” He repeated in that same calm tone, and her heart fell through her stomach. 

She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation, though the way she saw his hand shaking with fury, she knew it was better to stay quiet in case her voice would be the final straw that made him trigger happy. 

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer replied softly, and if he was panicking even a fraction amount she was he held it back, though his eyes flicked to Emily. 

But it was a tell. The smallest movement alone was a tell he was lying, or perhaps it was the fact he’d answered a question with one of his own, distracting from the attention on them with the unsubs own answers. Maybe his quiet and calm showed how trained he was for a situation like this, showed he had gone up against bad guys before and won. 

Whatever it was about him, it had Cyrus cocking the barrel of the gun straight at Spencer’s temple. 

“God forgive me for what I must do,” The preacher murmured, his finger moments away from the trigger, when she lurched forward in her seat, hand shooting out to grab his wrist deathly tight. 

“It’s me,” 

She hadn’t realised she’d said it until the room went quiet. She thought for a moment it had come from Emily, Emily had always been the braver of the two of them, but it wasn’t until Cyrus’ unforgiving, dark gaze fell to her where she froze in her spot, that she understood her mouth had been the one moving. 

Emily looked as if she was about to vomit, Spencer looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was stare back at Cyrus as if to will herself not to back down, knowing all three of them could fall victim if she gave them reason to doubt her; he could kill all three of them just to be sure the mystery agent was dealt with.

“It’s me,” She repeated, voice stronger this time, and she felt her chest relax just the tiniest amount as he turned the gun away from Spencer’s head. 

He stared back at her for a moment, before the weapon smacked across her face in a sharp whip, her cheekbone crying out in a sting she knew was going to bruise. 

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her into a stand hard enough she yelped, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the torture. 

“Watch the other two,” Cyrus barked, dragging her out of the room as she squirmed under his hand, feeling it only tighten into an unforgiving pull. 

She barely caught Emily bolting out of her seat to yell at the other men, all but fighting in their heavy grasp to follow wherever it was he was taking her, only for the door to be slammed shut behind them. 

It was only then she realised how fucked she truly was. 

–

She struggled to breath through the blood clotting in her nose. She didn’t think it was broken, not that she could check where her hands had been tied to the bedpost, tape over her mouth to stop her calling for help, her feet bound. She’d done nothing but give him hell as he’d been laying into her, keeping her cries and groans of pain silent as he’d kicked her in the ribs hard enough to know he’d damaged something at least. 

She’d not made it easy for him to tie her down, worried about what they were planning next, she’d managed to headbutt him in the mouth, and the way he clutched at his jaw when he’d left gave her a sick satisfaction, though her temple now hurt more than she’d like to admit. But they’d only covered her mouth after she’d screamed obscenities at them for an hour or so, hoping to attract attention, hoping if the BAU were on their way, Emily and Reid would be able to find her fast before they could dispose of her. 

Bugsy didn’t want to go like this. Tied up like cattle, gagged and beaten, the spirit kicked out of her as the dehydration gnawed at her limbs, making her too weak to even try wriggling out of the binds. 

She felt herself dropping off to sleep, or maybe it was a concussion, he’d slammed her face into that mirror quite viciously, she wouldn’t be surprised if it had rattled her head around. Fighting with her eyelids to stay open, she jumped in her battered skin as the door unlatched, and she thrashed on the rickety bed to get away from the impending second beating. 

But it wasn’t Cyrus. A fawn haired woman entered, her eyes falling on the girl on the bed, where blood trickled down her cheek, pouring from her nose like a thick liquor. Frowning, she was on high alert as the woman approached, a small, damp cloth in her hand. 

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you honey,” She hushed, approaching the young girl. Bugsy didn’t believe her for one second, her head pulling away from her as far as it could, her eyes wild and distrustful as the woman kneeled down beside the bed. “I’m Kathy,”

Bugsy debated jabbing an elbow in her face then and there, telling her in few words to stay as far away from her as possible, that the moment she was free she didn’t care who she hurt; she was getting out of here even if she had to crawl. 

“That woman’s your sister right?” The blonde said, and the words stopped her heart for a moment, giving the woman the chance to run the cloth over the dribble of blood, “Emily,”

“Where is she?” She tried to ask, but the gag made it little more than a muffled cry, the woman’s eyes turning down in sadness. Pity. Bugsy hated every second of it.

“She’s okay, she’s worried about you though,” Kathy said, wiping under her nose, making her wince at the feeling, “Put up a hell of a fight after they took you away,” 

She must have rolled her eyes, or perhaps it was just telling on her face that that didn’t surprise her as the older woman wiped over the superficial cut on her forehead she hadn’t realised was deep until the cloth went over it and she yawped like a dog having it’s tail pulled. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kathy cooed, and she seemed genuinely guilty as she did. She tutted, shaking her head, fighting the urge to smooth the girls hair down the way she did when her own daughter was upset, “Emily said they’ll be coming for us at 3am, Cyrus has a mass suicide planned but they think they can stop him, you just have to hold on a little longer honey,” 

“I want to see her,” Bugsy tried to talk again despite her mouth being covered, only for it to come out unintelligible once more. Huffing, she resigned herself to glaring at the ceiling, biting back frustrated tears. Kathy seemed to want to say something else, but thought better of it as the twenty something year old turned away from her to stare out the window, as if she were being dismissed. 

Sighing, she rose from the bed and headed for the door, praying the FBI would get them out in time, before Cyrus put his plan into action. 

–

Bugsy didn’t start panicking until it hit 2:50. She’d managed to kick the small analogue clock on the beside into working, the red numbers seeming to take a millenia to change over. 

Yet it wasn’t until 3am neared, and the hallways remained silent, did she start to wonder if Kathy had been telling the truth at all. What if they had found out Emily and Reid were FBI and not her? What if they’d already been caught?

She really had wanted to see Emily, wanted to scream at the woman, who had meant well, to bring her sister to her or she would make every damn bible basher in this compound regret the day they were born. She felt helpless. She despised feeling helpless. 

It was only when she heard shots rattling from outside did the cold fear set in. 2:52. Any minute now. 

It was then an even worse thought struck her. What if they didn’t bother to come for her? Reid and Emily were safe downstairs, at least that was how Kathy had made it seem. If they got the women and children, the agents out first, she wondered if they would leave her for last since she wasn’t their top priority. 

2:53 stared back at her. 

At least Emily would make it. She was more important, had more going for her. She was supposed to be an only child anyway, mom had said it herself. Bugsy was the product of a failing marriage and a shared bottle of 1896 Bourbon that had been a wedding gift they’d never opened. 

2:54.

She could have sworn she tore something the way her head snapped to the door as it swung open on its hinges, as if two large men had thrown their weight into it. But it wasn’t two men at all, just one frantic Derek Morgan with an FBI grade assault rifle. 

The relief in his eyes was immediate, and he pulled a pocket knife from his boot, rushing over to where she lay, almost in shock, wondering if he was real at all, her heart pounding as she heard shouting in the corridor. 

“I’m gonna get you out, kid,” The man promised, slinging his gun over his shoulder as he sliced through the rope on her ankles, her eyes trained on the 2:55 that watched them as if to laugh at them. 

She whimpered, cursing behind her gag when she heard footsteps pounding through the hallway, and she was sure they were going to get caught. She thought then it would have been better if they’d forgotten about her, that at least Derek would have been safe, and he could have made sure the children got out safely, could have gotten Spencer and Emily medical. 

Derek whirled on the doorway the same as she did as a tall figure all but skidded around the corner, his legs weak as hers felt, too long and not at all built for running. Clumsy almost. 

Spencer. She should have known from the way he looked white as a sheet the moment he saw her it was him, but maybe she really did have concussion, as it seemed within moments he was fussing over her face, tearing a little too sharply at the tape over her mouth. 

She thinks she groaned, or maybe cursed him out, as he started apologising immediately, his eyes a puppy kind of sad as she stared up at him, Derek handing him the knife to cut her arms free. 

He was talking, but she couldn’t make a lot of it out, just that he was really sorry, it was 2:56 now. It was like her brain switched itself back on when she realised she was free, and the two of them were trying to haul her to her feet. 

“Come on, princess, we gotta get out of here,” Derek said, as Spencer looped an arm around her waist, helping her limp across the room where her weak limbs did little to hold her upright, her ribs throbbing with every step, “We managed to stop Cyrus from detonating it manually, but the circuits are all still live,”

Morgan took the lead with the rifle, knowing some of Cyrus’ men had stayed to look for them, that they would go down with the building even though he’d already shot their leader the moment they’d breached the front door, because that was how loyal they were. They’d proven so already with the wine. 

She kept her groans behind tight lips as they made it down the stairs, knowing Spencer didn’t mean to hold her bruised bones so tight, that he was just worried and her legs were doing the bare minimum to keep them both moving very fast. It wasn’t until they made it within a few feet of the door that they seemed to pick up the pace.

And she saw why. 

Jesse, Cyrus’ child bride that had been the reason they’d come here in the first place was holding the detonator, her face tear streaked at the sight of her husband and prophet dead on the floor, the people responsible all but dragging a lame girl through the foyer and to the doors as if they hadn’t killed a handful of her flock tonight. 

Bugsy saw the moment Jesse decided she wanted vengeance on them, but then, she guessed Spencer had already acted as he slung one of her arms over his shoulder, yanking her out the front door in a matter of seconds as Morgan pulled up the rear, and the two men shoved her down behind the small wall outside the church steps. 

Bugsy expected the bang to be louder as the rubble flew over their heads, the floor shaking with the impact of the bomb detonating, and it was then she realised one of Derek’s large warm hands held her head into his shoulder, protecting her already rattled skull as best as he could. Spencer had done the same, throwing half his body over her back as he covered his ears, the two men tucking into the wall tightly and waiting for the dust to settle. 

Spencer started coughing first, though his position over her never faltered, and she heard his chest wheezing, and knew they needed to move away from the thick smog that blew into their faces. Morgan released her ear, tipping her head back to check her over once more. 

“Kid! You okay?” He fretted, noticing the way her nose had started bleeding again from all the movement; the way the bruise had already started blotching her cheek from where Cyrus pistol whipped her. 

“I didn’t think you’d come for me,” Was all she could say, and Derek thought it was the saddest he’d ever heard her. 

Reid was pulling her to her feet then, where he was still hovering over her, despite the fact the blast had already cleared,  still sputtering and hocking up a lung, but it didn’t stop her from throwing herself at his middle, burying her face in his dusty sweater, not caring one bit if he jostled her aching ribs. 

He was trying to be gentle with her as he squeezed her back, but she knew by the way he pressed his face into her hair he needed it just as badly. 

“You saved my life,” He said, his long arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her whole body against his. 

She laughed through a cough, their cheeks brushing past one another as she pulled him in tighter, thankful, relieved. 

“You saved mine,” 

And then she heard Emily. Emily, who sounded frantic and heartbroken as she called for her, her voice breaking as if she was crying, or atleast on the verge of, and as comforting as Spencer’s long arms around her cracked ribs were, she needed to see her sister was okay. 

Ripping herself from his embrace immediately, she tore off after the sound, and there she was. Her older sister, who had always seemed immovable, like she wouldn’t so much as budge for a bucking horse, like water couldn’t drown her, or however many unsubs she’d faced could stop her from catching them. Her older sister, who looked like she’d taken a few punches of her own, judging by the blood on her blue blouse, that looked around the crowd of fleeing people with watery eyes and a shaking bottom lip.

“EMILY,” She yelled, her voice a bleat, a lamb calling for its mother, as she sprinted down the steps, whatever strength she had left carrying her to where Emily was rushing towards her, taking the stairs in threes, “EM-”

She crashed into her sister’s chest, and it was only then she started crying. 

“I swear I’ll never give you trouble again, I’ll never talk back, I’ll never be a bitch ever again-” It was all a slew of mumbles against her sisters shirt, that was beginning to wet through at the rate the tears were coming, “I thought he was going to shoot you-”

“I was so scared, Bug, oh my god,” Emily murmured into her hair, squeezing the life out of her baby sister that sniffled and sobbed, “You don’t ever, ever do that to me again,”

Bugsy shook her head, clawing at Emily’s back as she pulled her closer, feeling Emily stroking her hair softly to calm her even in the slightest. They stayed like that until she managed to wrangle her sobs into little sniffs, the fire burning her eyes where it burned the rest of the church to ashes. 

She stayed with Emily for a month after that. 

+4. The one where you leave the altar. 

She knew she was turning heads, walking down the street of a drizzly day in Virginia, hair wet and sticking to her face, makeup running down her cheeks, and the sodden, dove white wedding dress clasped in her hands as she paced towards the government building. 

Whether the guards recognised her as the Ambassador’s daughter, or whether they really didn’t want to get into it with a bride looking like that on her day, she didn’t know, but they opened the door for her nonetheless, exchanging raised brows as a trail of wet followed her gown over the marble floors. 

Heading up the desk, she flashed her driver's licence, which was enough to gain her a visitors pass she didn’t bother putting to use as she headed for the elevator, her ballet pumps squeaking under the body of the dress. Waiting for the doors to start closing when she finally let a few tears slip, burying her face into her cold, drenched palms, undoubtedly making the mess of mascara even worse. 

Her heart gave a leap when she heard someone stop the doors, hoping she could get to her sister with little delay, and she quickly wiped her face with whatever was left of her pretty, dobby cloth shawl she had yanked on before she’d ran. 

Whatever excuse she was about to give, whatever one liner she was about to drop to clear the awkwardness this agent was about to walk in on was sucked out of her when she saw Spencer staring at her, his briefcase in his hands he’d used to hold the doors, a wide eyed look plastered on his face as soon as he saw her state. 

“Bugsy,” It was somewhere between surprise and sadness, jumping into the elevator before the metal could shut again, the button for the sixth floor already lit up in a ring of red, “What are you- I didn’t even know…”

“Spencer!” As seemed to be a common occurrence between them now, she threw two very cold arms over his shoulders, tugging him for a hug he quickly reciprocated, feeling like she needed it in the moment, “It was so awful, I just couldn’t all those people staring at me, and he- I just feel so-”

“Hey slow down,” He soothed, slipping his favourite cardigan off his body to put over her shoulders, ignoring the way he cringed as it quickly got sodden, “Let’s get you to Emily, I’m sure we can fix this,”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still shaken up, the elevator dinging to a stop on the fifth floor where an agent looked ready to step in, his face dropping when he saw the sight. 

“Sorry, we’re full,” Spencer said, with little room for discussion, pressing the button to close the doors once more, and taking her by the elbow as she began shivering, “We’re gonna be just fine, you look beautiful,”

She laughed sadly with a roll of her eyes, the tears sticking to her cheeks. She knew she looked no better than a drowned rat, windswept and disgruntled, her dress full of muck from the street. 

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She mumbled, the door sliding open to the sixth floor, where Penelope and her everlasting smile greeted her favourite boy genius. 

She almost dropped her glitter pen when she saw the woman stood next to him looking like Dorothy dragged through the twister. 

“Oh you poor little lamb, what has happened to you honey!” She all but cried, the cute little pom poms in her hair bouncing as she brought Bugsy closer, taking her hands tightly. “Your hands are ice! You’ll catch cold with that wet hair, and your gorgeous dress-” 

“Garcia,” Spencer cut her off, though the woman didn’t seem to mind being manhandled into the kind grip, he guessed her state had her letting her guard down, “This is Bugsy, Emily’s little sister.”

Penelope gasped, her ponytails swishing around some more, the gems on her glasses as bright as the light in her eyes as she yanked the younger girl in for a tight hug. 

“It is so nice to meet you! Emily talks about you all the time,” She said, pulling away and fumbling through her pockets for her fresh pink handkerchief she always carried around, mopping up the girl's eyeliner. 

“She-she does?” Bugsy asked, sniffling, her body trembling as the AC beat down through the water ladened on her body. 

“Of course she does, come on, let’s go get you coffee, I have a new machine in my office that makes the best espresso-” Garcia grabbed her hand as if they were kids in the playground, as if she’d known the girl years, which she sort of had. She had, of course, stalked every single one of Emily’s known relatives, even a distant cousin that never left Europe, and that had thrown up the quiet corner of the internet that Bugsy took up.

“I needed to talk to my sister, if that’s okay,” Bugsy braved enough to say, the swishing of her dress on the carpet making her wince, practically hearing the gallon of rain that soaked the expensive fabric. 

“Ofcourse! How silly of me, I’ll bring it out right to you, little bug. You just go with Spencer,” Handing him the handkerchief, she set off towards her ‘bat cave’ in search of a hot beverage for the shivering woman, “Spencer, clean her makeup!” 

He did as he was told, dabbing the water off her face as he led her to the BAU, where Emily and Morgan sat on their desks, chatting as they finished off lunch, Emily flicking through photos on her phone of baby Henry that JJ had sent over to her that morning from maternity leave. 

“He’s just the sweetest little boy, he’s got the biggest blue eyes just like Jayj,” She said through a smile, “You know Will even said-”

“Holy shit-” Morgan cut her off, and she glanced at him, wondering about his use of a curse. Following his eyes over her shoulder, she swivelled in her position to see where Spencer led a very wet, shaken version of her little sister through the doors of the BAU, a snowy ball gown hanging off her, a veil clinging to her hair that had seen much better days. 

“Holy shit,” She agreed, immediately darting for the girl that tugged Spencer’s cardigan tighter to her body, “Bugsy,” 

“Emily, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t take up too much time- I just couldn’t do it- and I know mom’s always saying ‘Bring home a doctor, bring home a rich man,’ but I just couldn’t no matter how rich his daddy is, he wasn’t even too bad-” It all came out in a slur, not making too much sense, and she didn’t stop until Emily held up her hands, as if easing a wild dog. 

“Woah, take it easy, kiddo,” Morgan hushed, as Emily brought a hand over her sister’s cheek, wiping away the last of the mascara, “What happened?”

Bugsy took a deep breath, looking between Emily and Derek, feeling the rain drip down her back. 

“So a few weeks ago, Mom made me go to that stupid debutante ball,” She started, rolling her eyes already as Emily winced, knowing Elizabeth loved any excuse to dress her youngest up like a Barbie doll. 

“I hated those things,” She confessed, shaking her head, “I thought you’d agreed you didn’t have to go to them anymore,”

“That was while I was in college, she said at least I could focus on my studies,” The girl explained, as Garcia tottered back through the office, a steaming cup of coffee in her beloved Bratz mug. Taking it from the chirpy woman, she took a deep gulp, not caring if it burned her mouth as she wished for the damn chill to go away, “Thankyou- But she made me go to this one on the condition she would pay off some of my college loans, and I was dumb enough to fall for her bribe,” 

She huffed, taking another sip, her stomach warming with the hot liquid settling through her throat. 

“You know how she is at these things, she knows everyone, and everyone knows her. I had four guys asking for my dance card within minutes of arriving there, it was like trying to walk through a dog pound wearing a meat suit, all the hand holding, trying to touch my waist- one guy even called me Madam Prentiss,” She grimaced, shuddering at the thought of it, “Madam? No one even calls mom that-”

“Focus,” Emily reminded gently, and she seemed to nod to herself, setting back on track.

“Right. And then he was there. Byron Hastings.” Bugsy said, wrapping her hands around the mug some more. 

“Oh, isn’t he that super yummy bachelor that just inherited his fathers business?” Garcia jumped in, not noticing how it made her wince, “I hear his dad totally owns a bunch of shares in Facebook and as like just signed a deal with a new company that will change the future of computing-” 

“Not now, baby girl,” Morgan said calmly, patting Penelope on her shoulder when she saw the bride’s crestfallen face.

“Right, sorry. Your turn, little bug,” She said, shaking her head and fiddling with her dozen rings. 

“Yeah, that’s him.” She replied, running a slightly warmed finger over her eyelash where rain even collected there, “And you know, I wasn’t complaining, he was certainly easy on the eyes, and he smelled nice, like he just smelled rich, but man alive he was so boring,” She sighed, “I like computers as much as the next girl, no offence, but he didn’t once ask me what I was into or, and when I tried to bring up my degree he just patted me on the head and said ‘That’s nice’ like I was some child that had brought him a pretty colouring or something,”

“Ouch,” Emily grimaced, rubbing her arms over the cardigan to warm her up a little more, “And then?” 

“And eventually, his dad and my mom cut a deal that we’d make a good pair. He said we could be married within the season, and suddenly everyone seemed up for it, and it was like no matter how hard I tried to dig my heels in, no one would listen, and mom just seemed so pleased with me-” She spluttered, sipping her drink to catch her breath, “I just let it happen and just thought, you know, maybe we could learn to like each other, or we could just be like mom and dad and separate in everything but paper,” 

“It’s your life, who is she to tell you how you’re gonna live it,” Emily was outraged, the tip of her nose pink, her dark eyes stormy as her hands fell to her hips, huffing as if it had been her backed into a corner, “I can’t believe she would do this to you,” 

“I was fine with it, really. It's not like its the fifteenth century when I’d be forced to consummate- anyway,” Bugsy rubbed her face, “I just got there, and mom put on my veil and told me I’d make a lovely Mrs Hastings, and just the sound of it- I couldn’t-”

“What on earth is going on?” A new voice cut through the BAU, and the group disbanded like kids caught trading answers to the homework. Rossi and Hotch stood by the unit chief’s office, brows furrowed at the wet bride and his team that tended to her as if she were a princess. 

“Should we be expecting four wet bridesmaids too?” Rossi asked, the two of them making the steps down to the floor, approaching the guilty faced woman, noting Spencer’s cardigan wrapped over her shoulders. 

“Nope, just me,” Her joke fell flat as she met the stony face of Aaron Hotchner, who looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Nice to see you again, Mr Hotchner, sir,” 

His gaze slid to Emily, mouth opening to share whatever scathing remark bounced around his mouth, but the younger girl beat him to it, everyone’s eyebrows raising when she all but cut him off. 

“This wasn’t on Emily, sir, I just showed up out of the blue, I can go- I’ll go- I just need to figure out where I’m staying since I left my purse at the church- don’t you worry I’ll be out of your hair, Aaro- sir,” Bugsy stammered, plonking the mug onto Emily’s desk, backing away to the doors of the office, clutching her visitor pass tight in her fist. 

Maybe it was because she looked so hopeless, or maybe it was the way his team shot him the same look of horror he would be so regimental, or maybe even it was the fact part of her reminded him of Sean, only his brother wouldn’t have had the courtesy to apologise for his mess. 

Sighing, he gestured her to come back, “Wait,” He said her name, her government name because the other one didn’t fit right in his mouth, “Reid, get her some clothes out your go bag. Emily, tell your mother she’s safe and will be staying in Quantico until you can figure something out,” 

Heaving a sigh of relief, she launched her still sodden form at the chief, wrapping him in a stiff hug, bolder than anyone else on the team had ever dared to be. 

“I swear to god, Mr Hotchner, the next letter you're getting will be the best one yet,” She mumbled into his hard chest, and he fought off the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. Patting her on the back gently, he ignored the way his dress shirt wet through. 

–

let me know what you think! mAYBE A FEW MORE PARTS COMING UP ??

Edit: This is a part one of 3 or 4 I have planned, thankyou so much for all the love on this I did not expect the reaction 🥺🥺

SECOND EDIT: part two and three are out now!! Have a look at the top where it says ‘next chpt and it’s there bbys!!

THIRD EDIT: we are now balls deep into this universe here's th link for the masterlist

[suiana]

(yandere! golden boy x reader)

you don't think you've ever felt special. well, maybe your mom or something told you that when you were younger but you never really believed it.

you're too normal.

not exceptionally good at one thing, nor are you decently good at everything. you're okay at some stuff and you don't have any particular interests that you're really passionate about. and you know bevause you've tried changing. it's never worked, it never will.

because you're just you.

sometimes you wish you had talent, because then at least you'd be good at something. to lack the passion but have talent, that would be a dream for you. could you imagine? being effortlessly good and having people flock to you without trying? or even the opposite would be nice. being passionate about something sounds... like a life worth living. like your life has purpose. meaning. so what if you don't have talent? at least you'd want to be better, to improve yourself, to have the drive to live.

you have neither, what can you do?

all you do is go through the motions. wake up, go to work, come home, repeat. you don't have any hobbies other than watching the occasional television. it's not like your life is exceptionally hard either. you're blessed with good parents who love you and a select few friends that you're thankful for.

yet there's this... aching gap in your chest that's yearning for something more. something you can't give it. why? because you're just not special enough. you never are. you know this already, there's no use trying to change it.

so you scroll on social media constantly, trying to fill the empty gap in your chest.

but if anything, it only makes the gap worse.

it shows how much you're missing out, how others have it better than you. how others have something going on for them that lets them stand out. something that makes them alive.

maybe it's just the way things are, the way your life was always destined to be. to be the background character that admires others, never the one being admired. the supporting character that stays stagnant with no character growth.

you're just too average.

just plain old you.

plain like a cracker.

never the first choice, never a choice at all.

you merely exist on this world, you're never truely alive and living life like others. and it's a rather unfortunate thing to be doing when you could be achieveing so much but you're just... you. you don't even know who you are. you're just someone, really.

or at least that's what you think of yourself. he could never see you like that. not when he thinks that you're the best thing to ever happen to him.

he's the exact opposite of you. charming, handsome, an absolute adonis on earth. he's perfect in every sense of the word. and he chose you to give his heart to.

you have no idea why he even fell for you in the first place. you're average. not pretty, not ugly, just somehwere in between. you're not particularly charming or whatsoever, a little awkward but can hold a conversation. sure you've dated once or twice but they weren't serious and you didn't feel bad about break up either. you didn't feel much to begin with.

but with him... well, you think that maybe you just might have a chance.

those encouraging words and affectionate gazes, do you think that perhaps there's someone out there who could potentially change the way you live? the way you've been aimlessly drifting about?

there's just no way.

but you think you'll take the chance. with him, you'll get to do things you've never done before. if not, you'll just go back to where you were before. stuck in the middle, living out your days in an endless cycle of contributing to the Earth's death. there's nothing bad in accepting his hand, his promise for a better life.

at the very least, you'll have someone who tells you he loves you. someone who tells you that you're special and that you mean something. someone that partially fills the hole.

you just want to be somebody, and he'll gladly help you out. he might be a little bit too obsessive and protective, but you guess it's just part of him. he can't change something that makes him who he is, change isn't easy. you know that well.

and doesn't it feel nice to be wanted?

just trust him, everything will be fine. he'll teach you how to live, what love feels like. he'll protect you, take care of you...

"i love you, darling."

are those lies or the truth? you don't know, but you don't really care. would someone who wants someone as average as you ever lie about something like that anyway?

his affection burns with such a hot intensity that you're pretty sure could never be fake. you can see that, you're not blind. he very obviously adores you. that much you're sure.

so just give in already, would you? it would make things a whole lot easier if you stopped trying to resist and make sense of the world. sometimes... some things are just destined to happen. like how you see yourself as shit and he thinks you're perfect. that destiny also includes being with him. he won't accept anything else anyway.

don't worry, you'll be very happy. he's sure of that.

[irrealisms]

i've seen a lot of people talk about mcyt as a constantly burning library of alexandria recently, and to some extent that's true. people are constantly deleting their blogs, going scorched earth with animatics, fanfics, etc., that they made. but i've also seen people (three in the last few days!) make this claim about VODs, when talking about large fandoms like DSMP and QSMP, and.... guys. that was true in 2020. that's not true anymore. archivists have been working tirelessly for years now to make sure that isn't true.

the dsmp VOD masterlist is here. in november 2020, it's missing 16 VODs, if i am counting correctly--which is still a fairly small minority, but it's a lot, and it sucks!--but in november of 2021, it's missing one, and that's because the cc of that VOD does copyright takedowns, not because the archivists didn't save it. no one in the archivist project is deleting VODs off youtube with no backups the way people are deleting fanfics. three months ago, one of my dsmp archivist friends finished coding a tool that let them reconstruct VODs out of twitch clips, and reconstructed six tubbo dsmp VODs from 2020. not only are we basically not losing VODs anymore, we are actively gaining VODs that have been lost for years, that were thought to be lost forever. the library isn't burning anymore; it's being rebuilt.

the qsmp VOD masterlist is here. it is usually a month or two behind the present day, to give creators time to archive their own VODs, but... look at it. in january of 2024, every single qsmp vod was archived. the same is true of december of 2023, and november, and the vast majority of months for the past year.

i'm not going to say that there isn't a problem. just a few days ago, i realized that a lifesteal VOD from last year was missing--that its youtube upload was messed up somehow, and no one noticed and it wasn't mirrored on the internet archive and the person who uploaded it deleted the original file. and now it's gone forever. this made me super sad! like i said: i'm not going to say that there isn't a problem.

but... look at the lifesteal VOD masterlist here. lifesteal's a smaller fandom than qsmp or dsmp. open the 2022 tab and you'll see months and months of lost VODs, of no one's VODs being saved, because there weren't any archivists saving them. then open the 2023 tab and see: they lost four VODs, over the course of a year. even in smaller fandoms, archivists are working. they're making progress. they're saving VODs. in 2024, lifesteal archivists screenrecorded five streams on tumblr live to make sure they would not become lost media. mcyt may be a constantly burning library of alexandria, but the people with fire extinguishers are dedicated. they're making incredible progress. i know people with petabytes of VODs saved, who have spent money on extra storage for this. i know people who are constantly running up against their storage limits as they download/upload to the internet archive/delete for space/rinse and repeat. a decent fraction of the time, my internet at home is slow because it's downloading VODs.

and these aren't the only mcyt fandoms with archiving projects! the outsiders smp VOD masterlist is here. origins smp VOD masterlist is here. smp earth VOD masterlist is here. rats smp VOD masterlist is here. there are so many others that i just don't happen to know about. the older and smaller a fandom is, the more likely it is to not have an attached archiving project, or for the archive to be missing a lot of VODs. but... guys, we've saved a lot. there are people out there, working tirelessly to save even more. yes, mourn what we have lost--the archivists i know are also the ones mourning the most for the VODs that are, in fact, forever lost media. but don't dismiss how much people have saved. we are making progress. we are losing less and less every month. the vast majority of the dsmp and qsmp still exist, i am not going to say they're the same experience as watching live because they're really not, but.. they're out there. people have put in a lot of work to save them.

if you have publicly available VOD masterlists or other mcyt archiving projects that aren't on this post, please add them in a reblog. i want this post to serve as a reference for how much archivists have saved in this community; unfortunately, i'm not super connected to every community. but i know that--for every person deleting things, there are people working, tirelessly & with little external reward, in so many different mcyt fandoms, to save things. and we should appreciate that more often.

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!