#its not surprising she chooses to save herself in the middle of all that

[greencloakedfae]

How do we feel about the idea that Sofia hunts Nell down so intensly could be in part due to jealousy?

Its very clear that Sofia is very obsessive about hunting down Nell to frame her for Lord Blancheford's murder. Like she doesn't really need to do all of that. She has the benefit of it being her word against theirs, and the social status to back it up, and they quite easily hold the appearance of grieving children seeking out justice for their father through hired bounty hunters and a 40 pound reward on Nell's head. And like, there is something to be said for the fear that Nell may eventually get someone of importance on her side, and as such getting rid of her permanently is in their best interest. However, I think it would add an interesting layer to the whole dynamic to explore Sofia being jealous of Nell.

Because Nell and Sofia are very clearly two characters that are supposed to be similar yet on complete opposite sides. Their connection to magic, their values of protecting their siblings, and their want to have control over their own situations are just some to name a few.

Yet, Nell is able to escape Tottenham through marrying Captain Jackson, and then continues to keep a hold on her freedom through the way she dresses and presents herself, as well as with the support of her family. She even gets offered tenancy of the Talbot. It's not without consequences obviously, we see it all throughout the show, but she still has a lot more freedom than you'd expect for a woman of that time. Sofia however is still trapped. Her whole life is dictated for her thanks to her high status, and when her father dies, she only just gets a taste of some semblance of power over her own situation through running the estate (though this would be on the down-low and probably with credit attributed to Thomas) and learning magic offered by Poynton. And even then, she's still disregarded and disrespected by the men around her.

It wouldn't surprise me if a large motivation in hunting down Nell for Sofia is the satisfaction of stripping Nell of her freedom. This woman, who is so similar to her yet just because of the family she is born into, gets to have what Sofia can't. And in a 'If I can't have it, neither can you' type of way, I think Sofia would take that and internalise it until it becomes all consuming. Probably convincing herself that once Nell has been stripped of her freedom, she will finally get her own.

[iznsfw]

Manic Robotic Dream Girl

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 4 - Choi Yena

IZ*ONE's Choi Yena x Male Reader Smut

8,311 words

Neon lights dance like flames around you. There’s no need to touch them when you’re already burning. Burning with something that’s not a fever but a kind of pain that never goes away. 

Sweat pricks the sides of your face and you’re aware of the blots of perspiration running down your jawline. Nights at the Rogue are often hot, but then they surprise you with a sudden burst of windiness, so you never bother to take your coat off. Whatever and wherever, you’ll always be here yet you’ve not once been able to predict the temperature.

That’s what happened when WAKE12 took over. 

Apparently, they decide if people are under the weather by controlling it by them-fucking-selves. Kwon feeling shitty? Looks like rain then. Maybe she’s feeling happy? Alright, let the clouds find balance. Angry? Take a fucking hailstorm. What a privilege, one bigger than the lives of the rich men in the North. But everyone forgets about that fact after she sends out minimal alms—canned goods, a Bible, something. Then it’s back to President Kwon is the best! President Kwon can never fail us! President—

“Vodka.”

“Same as yesterday?” asks Yuri, smiling a little bit. 

“Same as yesterday.” For a hologram, Yuri can be quite the social butterfly. 

Online wallets are all the rage nowadays. The AI voice in your head offers you said option to pay, and you can hear your balance privately spoken. Somehow your brow prevents from creasing as you hear it. You lack funds but somehow have a few extra bucks to drink. 

Choose that. You want to save your Wizes for other things. Lock eyes with Yuri and your balance goes down. You’ve paid. 

Online and digital wallets modified with embedded signals and readers were in use before you were even born. Of course, there were already such payment options in the twenty-first century, but how WAKE12 changed everything, not just ordering options with telepathic payment, can easily be read in a sixth grade history textbook. 

In October of the year 2918, Kwon Eunbi rose in the ranks as a scientist and soldier for Kang Hyewon, former president, and ended up working her way into dictatorship. The textbooks and classrooms teach that she proposed a law to the court and got herself a position for her wit and intelligence. But early first accounts challenge that, saying that she caught the eye of Kang and had a sexual relationship with her. WAKE12 branded this as propaganda that sullies the name of not only the dictator but the one of the late president, who died mysteriously before Kwon rose to power.

Massive backstory for cashless payment, but you know there’s more to it than the government would like to let on. What happened to Kang? What made Kwon so evil the moment she sat in her presidential throne?

“Thank you, sir.” Holograms all have different voices; Yuri’s sounds like she’s singing. At least the bartender slash boss hired her instead of those with monotone, emotionless ones. It’s cheaper to have hologram workers than humans anyway. Less money, less emotional labor, less of feeling like a normal person.

A beggar curled up below the counter holds his hand out. Not an uncommon sight in the Auster, but it’s a pity to see. The world has advanced with its telepathic wallets and 3D holograms yet there will always be individuals who haven’t caught up with time. While the North Rogue leads worldly lifetimes, the Auster is a home for the rejects. The poorest of the poor. The somewhere-in-the-middles. It can never be truly a perfect world if advancement doesn’t include everyone.

Give him a Wize. Back then, that would have been worth a hundred or so dollars, a currency long gone. Not that you’d know of it; WAKE12 claimed leadership way before you were born so the cheap value of the coin studded with the bust of Kwon Eunbi is all you’re accustomed to. 

Take your drink and thank Yuri. 

The cobblestone is rough beneath your feet. You take your seat at your usual table. Float your fingers around your shotglass. Pour the contents down your chapped mouth almost all in one go. Anything to feel something. Anything to feel anything. 

You’re not an alcoholic by any means, though that’s certainly up for debate. But there’s a need for the liquid that rages more than the need for oxygen (the fucking shortage of it) or food (the fucking expense of it). How else could you be less numb? You’re welcome to every feeling at this stage, just not this empty neutrality that slumbers your senses.

Pain? Your throat seizes up when you drink and brings tears to your eyes, so there's that. 

Happiness? Hm, none. You’re barely smiling. You’ve no family, little friends, and no partner for the last few years. There’s nothing to be happy about.

Anger? The displays of people fined harshly for their crimes on the big as life advertising screens stir some defiance in you. WAKE12 doesn’t take kindly to hacktivists and young coders dabbling in creating their own AIs. You have your own anti-government opinions, but what’s a human mind against an artificial one? Plus, and probably a less serious reason (tell that to the thousands who flock to the hospitals because of asthma), the air is almost always polluted here in the Rogue. It’s dirtied by car smoke and factory remains. You’d think that robots taking over the labs would improve it. Perhaps they weren’t programmed that way. 

Loneliness?

You look around. See the glitching phantoms of new world technology make the drinks breezily. Watch the light-studded train filled with commuters from the Auster. Kwon Eunbi managed to build an underside track for additional trains to run and still the commuters—young students, old grandparents, not young but not old workers whose jobs belong to WAKE12—wear the same tired look you saw yesterday. All you could hear are buzzes and uncanny valley voices from holograms.

The second chair paired with your table is empty. You’re suddenly lucid to the fact that it’ll always be like this. These nights of drinking and walking in the Auster Rogue will be endless, and just the same, you’ll be endlessly alone.

Sometimes mortality could be so depressing.

So depressing that it makes it all so meaningless.

A man stumbles over to the outside bar, breaking your thoughtless reverie. His clothes are as black as the night you spend but you can see blood on the fabric. The skyscrapers provide enough light for you to see his red face from anxious internal and worrying external blood. The pleading look grips his expression like a malfunctioning robot’s limb. 

He’s looking back as if afraid of what might be there. The rain-soaked road is tread on roughly by his shaking knees as he crawls his way to the bar. “Please, help me!”

“Warning,” comes the voice in your head, and you know the other visitors hear it, too, “a criminal of the state is in your proximity. Proceed with caution.”

WAKE12 always keeps an eye on those who threaten them. They have goons everywhere. The kindly grandfather down the street could be a veteran waiting for the chance of a medal. They have ears everywhere as well. Undercover cops stay in both crowded and clear spaces to identify possible threats. When it all comes down to it, you’re not safe in your own head at all. The implants can detect when you dream up something terrible. That’s how millions lose their reputation. Their jobs. Their families.

Their lives.

He staggers to the counter, crashing glass that shards his palms, and lets out this wail you’d hear from an abused pup. “Please,” he croaks. “Don’t listen to them. I just need somewhere to hide. I did nothing wrong, nothing!”

The implanted voice in your brain says otherwise. Everyone was given one when the Cyber Age came. That’s what makes a tiny difference in seeing who’s human and who’s not: the tiny, diamond scar below their hairline from the operation. Close inspection can’t always be done, however. Nowadays, too many of these robots and holograms pass the Turing test. You can never truly trust someone.

“Offenses include: playing the role of an accomplice in theft of government data, distribution of terrorist propaganda—”

“Get the fuck out!” says the bartender, having burst out from the back. As a longtime visitor, you haven’t seen him this angry, but you know it stems from fear. No one wants to associate with a criminal. No one wants the association to lead to arrest and the arrest lead to god knows what. Hundreds of people go missing after they’re taken under custody. What Kwon does to them, you don’t know. “Leave or I’ll call the cops!”

Like you said, they lurk everywhere. You’re surprised they haven’t caught up to him.

The bloodied man shakes his head, like please, please, someone believe me. “No, I’m not a criminal! Listen to me, please, I don’t have enough time! They just wanna—cut down” 

Rapid footsteps. Sigh and put your glass down. There they are.

The man reaches for him, but the bartender shoves the whole table into his face. He falls back on the ground and cries out for help that never comes. Men and women wearing tight black uniforms and vests pull him up. Their lit helmets that opposingly disallow a view of their faces make them look emotionless. Like robots.

Huh.

While resting your head against the metal chair, you listen to the struggling shuffles of the police and criminal, and see the glitching robots walking down the road. No real emotion, no real living.

He scratches and screams and sobs, but that doesn’t matter to them. They pull him along the rocky cement and recite his nonexistent rights to him. There’s the right to remain silent (he’s screaming), the right to an attorney (nobody in the Auster can afford a good lawyer much less an honest one), and the right to live freely if found innocent of the crime (someone getting convicted happens more often than being released).

Besides, it can’t be called living when it’s in a place so completely devoid of any humanity.

“In more ways than one,” you say. Fuck it, you’ll drink to that.

-

Like always, you take more than you should. You believe by now you’ve built some kind of immunity. That’s what they all think, you remind yourself, before an inevitable death that buries them in the ground one bricked shot at a time. You swear you’re not dizzy at all or feeling the acid build to your throat, so the sight gathering just a little away from you is real. 

Stare at your glass. Space out if not for what you see: behind it, a shapely form of a woman in purple. The blue and violet lights make it difficult for you to distinguish it from her clothes so she actually looks naked. That shocks you more than the arrest. You’re sure she’s got a little modesty in her because why else is she making her way to a table?

Your table?

It’s like she teleported when she’s suddenly seated before you, filling the chair that’s been empty for the last more or so years. You don’t even get the chance to look up at the right time, but the moment you do, you think keeping your eyes on your glass would’ve been better for the sake of your heart.

YENA.

Her name appears in your mind and she hasn’t even introduced herself. But it’s right there, emblazoned in lights in all capitalized four letters: YENA. This girl is Yena. And this girl—this fucking guilty pleasure of a girl—is gorgeous.

The ends of her hair are tinged with blonde, and it’s hard not to give attention to that with how her locks are gathered into twin tails. She smoothes them before looking at you quite seriously, like she’s about to propose a challenge you’d lose.

Blue shining eyes. There’s something odd about the way they twinkle below her bangs—almost like something not human. 

Yena dances her fingers around her jawline, elbow resting on the table, and tilts her pretty face. Lets her fingers play with her lips that are made for things the Auster’s known for providing (she can’t be from here though; those crocheted coordinates look costly). That’s how you notice that fine feature. Naturally thick and casually jutted out in a distinctive pout, your eyes are glued to them. Can’t take your prolonged stare away if someone helped you. 

“Are you waiting for me to start talking?” Yena asks. She’s not angry, just amused—her voice is smooth and clear, with a tiny pitch that makes her all the more cute. 

You shake your head. “Was just trying to figure something out.” 

“And that is?”

“A lot of things,” you state. Things you’d keep a secret forever, lest you spill them out to a girl all for the payment of being beautiful. “But I’m not sure pretty girls like you would want to know.”

You try to keep your curious peering at her normal, but it’s difficult when she just attracts attention. She’s a glowing lightbulb in a flutter of moths. Yena doesn’t flicker weakly; she shines, and it’s honestly why everyone else is “subtly” looking at her, this gorgeous stranger who came in and somehow chose the alcoholic who came from places more rock bottom than the Auster.

She laughs. It’s sobering—you think you’ll get drunk on her rather than the cheap alcohol. “Is that what you think of me? Too beautiful to think too much?” 

Look her up and down. Yeah, you want to say, that’s about it. It’s not out of offense but rather the instinct in you that wants to tell her you don’t want to put her in a worried state. She’s too… ah, she doesn’t know what you’d do for a girl like her—someone too unreal to be human but too genuine to be the “living” dolls lonely men purchase. Someone who can keep a conversation going without fearing a low blow. Someone who’s out of your league in the Rogue’s mixed pool but chooses you anyway.

“I’m just saying you might not want to hear a stranger boring you with his hard problems.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving it off with a flick of a pointed wrist. “You know my name. I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

How did you—how did she—

Her eyes twinkle again. They’re… violet? You could have bet they were blue. But then you see the suspiciously smooth and clear skin, with the perfect lines of her eyelids, which curve as if manufactured in. She’s definitely not human. 

“Besides,” adds Yena sweetly, “you’re really underestimating how good I can take certain hard things.”

Swallow. You opened the door, now you’re locked in. 

Yena catches the bob of your Adam’s apple and smirks. Traces her fingers over yours. She can’t be human for sure yet you feel the softness of her hand, the only thing giving you doubt being how chilled her touch is. It's humid here, so where did that come from? Goosebumps pop up in masses across your skin—note how nothing shows up on hers.

Maybe she’s just a confident woman.

“Come on, I dare you.” 

“Only if you go first.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says. A cutesy saluted hand positions itself before her temple. Her hands are tiny, could be dainty, while her cheeks lift to support an adorable smile. 

Your knees tremble. You don’t know where that came from either. Yena just knows what to say to get to a guy. Almost like she was made for it. There’s that question again, resurfacing in your altered brain: is she human or not?

You lean back. Cross your arms. Here you go, on your way to find out. “What’s your story?” 

Yena shrugs, her shoulders bare and smooth. And you’re thinking of how you’d like to see the rest of them, the rest of her body naked by pulling down the crocheted strap of the purple coordinates. How you’d like to touch those puffed up cheeks and not care if they’re real or not when you pull her close to kiss her. How those lips—

“Don’t have one.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs. Even the way she giggles is attractive.  “No, seriously,” she replies, licking her lips. “There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m the most normal girl there is.”

There is nothing normal about her. Everything she says is too prepared. The largeness of her eyes gives everything away. Her hair is combed too finely that you’re not unconvinced that it isn't human hair at all, though you can see them connect at the roots. It’s like someone drew a cute animated girl on a notepad one lonely night, sent the idea to a rich bastard, and brought her to life.

So no, you’re not buying it.

“So you’re saying you’re just a blank canvas.”

“If you put it like that, I guess.” Yena rolls her eyes. You’re a bit obsessed. “Guys want that, right? A blank piece of a girl they could shoot more than a shot at? Maybe paint her white?”

You’re thankful you didn’t continue drinking. Otherwise, your surprise would be visible and audible with the lodge of your throat as you wineboard yourself.

The side of her mouth raises. A soft dimple exceeding cuteness—it’s deeper, brighter, shinier. You imagine her as a college student, charming boys into submission just with a wink and a smile that can melt hearts and bring guilt to lust-addled minds. 

That’s what she’s doing: Yena is melting you because of how adorable she is, but then you take a look at her body, note the fine curves it boasts, and feel the need to go to a confessional pastor. You’re not supposed to repeats in your mind, but you’re you—if you aren’t supposed to do it, then of course you’ll do it anyway.

“Woah,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Woah.”

“Look.” She rests her forearm on the table and talks so casually one would think she weren’t just talking about getting cumshots. “I‘m not taking that back, so do with that what you will.”

Under the table, behind the scenes, her leg is curled around one of yours. Her ankle glides along your skin teasingly. Not a speck of hair on all of those flawless legs, but you’re shivering anyway from the contact. Hence, make a show of closing your coat around yourself. You can’t fool her when it’s not even chilly.

Recover, piecing together the brokenness of your confidence she tore apart.

“My story is, uh, weird.”

“Tell me.”

“This might be too personal but—” You lift your shoulders awkwardly. “I used to date a girl who looks exactly like you.”

Kim Chaewon—short auburn hair, soft cheeks, and a tiny figure. She’s a memory you didn’t think of returning to today, but then Yena came here, and now you’re back to your youth.

“She was a cop. Cutest officer I’ve ever seen, but a real bitch, for the lack of a better word. Then she left me.”

“You broke her heart, didn’t you?” 

Sputter. “No!” you immediately deny, shaking your head. “I—I didn’t hurt her, she was—”

A filthy lie. You became nonchalant, undeserving of a sweet woman who’d do anything for you, even give up her well-paying job. Again and again, Chaewon expressed her concerns: why were you talking to Minju? Where have you been? Why are you so mean? You disregarded them all the same. She deserved the ignorance; she was too fucking controlling, too fucking jealous.

Yena knows you’re lying. It’s like you’re a wound she can peel back to see all the ugliness, all the damage underneath. Her smile tells you everything.

“Oh, come on. I don’t care. Except for this.” Yena intertwines her fingers. Rests her chin on top of the formed platform. “Was she a good fuck?”

Your laugh is forced, trying to make a good deal out of this situation. A girl is flirting with you right after you saw someone disappear. Now you’re wondering if she’s a robot. Now, through some way, she knows you’re lying about your ex. Coincidences meet yet you refuse to connect them—parallel lines they shall stay, forever. 

“Yena, what exactly is up with you?” you ask. “You just met me. And come on now, why me?”

It’s begun to be hotter in this space. Loosen your coat. Perspiration isn’t because of the atmosphere, so you find out (and what a surprise). It’s because of the woman across you, a midnight sun. If the painful sun was actually a symbol of good in the Rogue, Yena would play its role perfectly. She’d scorch through you and you’ll enjoy every second. Yeah, you’d get all sorts of tans and burns and cancers if you bask in her without protection, but my god, are you willing to take the risk.

“I just don’t like seeing pretty boys have problems,” she replies easily. “If they want, (and I know they do), I’ll take them all away. Soon, all you'll think of is me. Like I’m the sun peeking in your room and you just can’t get enough sleep because of it.”

You tense up. Millions of questions, a void empty of answers. Once again, how was she so spot on? You’re not breathing quite well, and your clothes are tighter tonight. “Yena, look, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Don’t be, not because you aren't, but because she said so.

She pouts. “You’re not gonna buy me a drink?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nope. Remember what I said? I’m a blank canvas. So do whatever you want with me. Buy me a drink. Or not. Tell me to fuck off. Or not. Force me on my knees.”

Yena kneels.

There’s no mantle on the table to cover up what she’s about to do. You gasp, then try to mask it as a poor cough, but you’re distracted by how she pulls your pants down effortlessly. The button sealing your coat is busted open and gone.

So is your dignity.

Yena’s tongue sticks out at the side of her mouth as she looks up at you with excitement and mischief in her eyes. 

“Or let me do the job. I’m a big girl after all.”

She seals her teeth around your zipper and tugs down. It’s embarrassing how hard you are for her. But Yena doesn’t care. Adoration is clear on her face as she stares at your shaft, the worshipful energy in her eyes so overwhelming that she has to do something about it.

“Yena—” What a way to go out: screaming a stranger’s name.

You knew those lips were up to no good the moment you saw them. She’s provided evidence, too. Her soft lips embrace your boner and suckle fervently while dragging themselves upwards. It’s a caress that tenses you up rather than comforts you. It works you up, tying you down with the little weight Yena has. You could kick her away right now and tell her to go away. File a case against her. 

You don’t.

The joined duo of careful teeth and wild tongue gets you whimpering. Shivering. Begging. How is she so good at this?

Her mouth is perfectly wet. It’s not copiously soaked to have you cringing but the perfect balance of wet and ready, coating your rod again and again. She gives you too much and just right. It would be a cruel violation if you were asked to choose one and only one.

“Baby, what the fuck—” you stammer. 

Her throat’s an expert in taking you because one push of her lips to your base welcomes you in its tight hole. Your knees shake; Yena places her hands on it, not to stop their trembles but for leverage during the dip of her head. 

Close your eyes, look up, and stare at skies that provide no reprieving stars. Think of how she’s infinitely bett—

“Better than any pussy, huh?” Yena asks. The third time is no coincidence, so you’ve heard. “And it’s just my throat.”

At this stage, you don’t care if she’s a robot or not, because either way, that mouth is a fucking treasure.

You lift your hips and start slowly working yourself in Yena’s face. Her lips pucker and pout to allow you inside with pleasurable friction. Those eyes—there aren’t any planets in the sky because of the pollution but you think you can see their sparkle in them. 

The amazing part is that Yena doesn’t choke. She endlessly takes you in, receiving every inch like a blessed gift, but you don’t hear her wheeze. No sounds of complaints escape her. You have a feeling it’s not because of your cock sliding in and out of it. She only gags on occasion, and those already sound fake. It’s like she’s doing it just so you can get worked up hearing her moans.

While others might be impressed, you’re dumbfounded. She tightens and loosens and pushes and pulls just for your pleasure. 

“Yena, I– you’re doing so good,” you compliment her in gasped breaths.

Her cheeks hollow. The suction strengthens and it now feels like your soul’s being swallowed down her neck. She knows how to tease you with light pandering from her teeth, generous licking, and strengthened swallowing. Her mouth is warm but you are more so. She’s making you feel hot in all these layers, an additional one played by her perfect lips.

Perfect hair, too, you note.

Hungry impulses take over your body and now you’re pumping your core into the girl’s face with the help of her pigtails. Yena’s hair is thick and silky, and it’s another enjoyable factor: feeling how it slips between your fingers and how each pull directs her lips to press firmly to your crotch.

She doesn’t gag with that either. She must have had a lot of experience; she did say she can take hard things fine. That is, if she were human. If not, whoever built her had dirty ideas: the lack of gag reflex surely brings in the five star ratings.

Bright star-like eyes, cute ruinable face, mouth that can take the largest.

Yep, perfect.

“Good—fucking—girl.”

Your cock weeps white. Yena feels the first drop and immediately pulls away. She pumps your shaft with a strong, urgent fist. As she hinted, you blast all over her face. Your orgasm grips you and shakes you like never before, and of course, the little brat enjoys it. She’s nearly laughing.

“There,” says Yena after she drains you. Her duck-like lips are sticky with cum. “Canvas painted.”

What a pretty painting you’ve made. Here, shown to the public, is the manic pixie dream girl, semen on her chin to symbolize how each word she utters has you climaxing; hair disheveled to show your subtle but messy rule over her, because you own her although you weren’t there when her mechanical limbs were assembled and her face drawn; and a smile on her face to show that despite all this: she likes it.

You laugh, short blunt breaths wisping in the air. “There really is something wrong with you, Yena,” you say.

She’s a girl who’s extremely pretty, good at blowjobs, and likes public sex and oral. She can also read minds. Oh, and she might not be real. 

“You could say that again.” She wipes her mouth. “Though I do think I could use a little fixing from you.”

-

You take her home. Your mother would have been disappointed in you if she knew you violated the first law you were ever taught: don’t talk to strangers. Most of all, don’t ever let them in. But Yena is no stranger—like she said, she knows your name and for some reason, you know her own. You’re not strangers. And your mother isn’t around to command you not to kneel for a pretty girl.

This home of yours isn’t fancy, but if people from 2024 saw it, they’d be mesmerized. You’re not rich enough to afford the penthouses the North offers; this one is alright for you. The stories of the building aren’t aligned with each other, separating a few yards with floating floors that defy gravity. That’s right; WAKE12 somehow found a way to disobey the rules of physics. The ends are lit up with bright lights that blind you from miles away. Wide windows encircle the areas along with al frescos and convenient malls. Back then, this would have been classified as the house of the wealthy—you can’t say you agree with the sentiment when you’re not at all rich.

“Hi,” says Yena brightly at the front desk. She’s so smiley, always grinning like she’s just told a really clever joke. “Where’s the elevator?”

“I, uh…” 

The manager looks at her oddly. Your ears redden; she still hasn’t cleaned her face up. Evidence of your deed lies there on her nose and chin and cheeks, even in her perfect hair. 

“Well?”

The manager lifts the phone immediately. Before he could dial a number, Yena sighs loudly. 

“Look.” She silences the telephone with a slam of the device down on the keypad. The man’s hand cringes. “I’m about to fuck this guy’s brains out and I promise your little backup bosses can’t do anything about it.”

He stares at her. 

“I’m gonna use his dick until it’s limp as a balloon, then ride him in bed, then bend over on the kitchen table so he could breed me like a common whore.”

You lift an index finger to apologize, but put it back down. Did she just say you can breed her?

His jaw tenses. The teeth behind those unsmiling thin lips grit, not in annoyance but in fear. Yena’s bouncy and sweet, but apparently she’s excluding people who cockblock from her cute attitude.

“So,” finishes Yena, lowering her gaze, “where is the fucking elevator?”

The elevator has no pulley or doors. It sits at the side of the uneven floors and rises with nothing but a sizable pod. You’ve had to watch your weight to be able to enjoy the freedom from staircases. 

Yena steps on it with no worry. As you look at her, you realize how positively tiny she is. That’s why she isn’t doubtful about fitting in the claustrophobic space. Her violet clothes can slip off at any time at her pull of a waist and slim thighs. All the fullness goes to her cheeks, painted with fake tattooed stars and minimal doodles. 

She’s the kind of girl you could just pick up and do whatever to. You’re the kind of guy who really, really likes the idea.

Holding your hand is a thing of the past. Yena clutches your cock over your jeans as the elevator lifts the two of you up. 

The first thing she does the moment you enter your home is not kiss you, or slam you to the door, or whisper dirty nothings in the hollow of your ear. Yena looks around and says, simply, “Doable.”

You chuckle. You’re not offended. It’s a tidy, minimal apartment with glass that spans a viewing pleasure of the artificial forest and the hills. Glass lost its value but skyrocketed in purchases when Jo Yuri, first activist recorded in the history of WAKE12’s domination, was imprisoned. People compared her name to glass (yuri was 유리 and 유리 meant glass) and since then, it has been used everywhere. High demand, low price. Her symbol and namesake is used the way the public wants her to be used: cheap thing convenient only to the eye. They always said she was too pretty to talk too much.

“Here, doable is the best compliment,” you reply. You go to your bedroom to clean the place. If you want to fuck a rich girl, make sure the bedroom is at least up to her standards. “You have personal maids there in the North?”

Yena continues looking around. She’s mildly fascinated by everything, especially in the big window placed on the ceiling that lets stars peer down at you. For some reason, all the ejaculation on her face is gone. You don’t remember her bringing a washcloth.

“I’m not from the North, you know.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. I don’t come from anywhere.”

You come out, having cleared your bed from clothes and the floors of trash. You fed the trash to the connected chute that all apartments have, which leads down to the Southern Auster. The word may be Latin and is already defined as south, but there’s places poorer than the part you live in. You’re lucky to be here. The Southern Auster’s where it’s much more dangerous. The people there scavenge for food and money, and their cries go unheard in the night. It’s the biggest criminal capital of the Rogue.

You come out and Yena’s sitting on the kitchen table with a knife.

Stop in your tracks. 

See the blood running down her arm. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says dismissively. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You still don’t know what to say. The wound on her skin’s dissolved to a scar that looks more like a scratch on metal. Why would she do that? Why would that do that?

“In fact, I think it’s kind of cool.” Yena slides the blade on the strap of her top. It falls apart, right down to her braless chest. A pink, perky nipple is clear in the moonlight shining from above. “When people see me, they usually want to hurt me, so I might as well do it myself, right? They want to slap me, pull my hair, choke me. They say that and figure I’m totally flattered.”

You want to say that you couldn’t blame them. Yena’s got this innocent but naughty aura about her that you want to completely ruin. There’s her hair, all dolled up and her quirky makeup that brings attention that eventually switches down to the body she doesn’t bother hiding. 

But it looks like she’s doing the ruining. Aren’t those the best stories? Boy corrupts girl when it’s the other way around in reality? 

To use the word “reality” when you’re with Yena is laughable. She can read your mind like a Rogue Times newspaper. You get that things you thought were impossible have a chance of happening in these days, but you don’t remember wounds healing that fast. The knife slices right through the fabric, revealing swoon-worthy curves of her waist and hips, making her bleed only not for too long. Who would want a scar-ridden skinny girl anyway?

“Well,” you say after a dutiful swallow, “are you?”

Yena examines the knife. Her crimson blood dripping from its edge is a worthwhile watch while she considers this. 

She finally puts down the knife, much to your relief. “I don’t know. What about you, handsome? Do you want to hurt me or fuck me?”

“I… I’m not like them. I don’t wanna hit you or make you cry or anything. I want to fuck you, that’s completely different.”

First confession of the night that didn’t need saying when it’s clear. You let her blow you in public. You took her home. The intention is staring you in the face: you want to have sex with a girl you just met. 

Yena smiles. “You’d be surprised how blurred the lines are.”

Yena‘s hands fall on your shoulders and make you  fall to the kitchen chair and make your pants fall on the floor. Falling, falling, falling for her—it’s all you’re able to do provided that she’s stunning. She’s tiny with her thin arms and legs but her breasts are surprisingly supple. The cleavage her top subtly shows off hinted to that and you’re still shocked.

She’s a hot desert, and the only source you can drink of is her core. Her pussy is slick, making her thighs glue together only for them to part as she sits on your lap. 

The first grind has you both breathless. The second renders a duet of moans. She’s so wet that it’s excessive enough for her to drip down your cock and completely cover it with her. Yena’s pussy lips splay and clasp your shaft with slippery friction.

She curses. “You’re so hard. Big, t-too.” She aims your cockhead at her clit and sighs at the toe-curling pleasure. “You think you can fit in me?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

Yena smirks. She continues soaking you with her wetness. Her juices pour from your head to your balls. Then, without warning, she sheathes your rod inside her. 

You gasp. It’s so easy to slip yourself in and all too difficult to cope with how tight she is. Her walls, perfectly textured and sloppy, trap you and let you out, giving you false hope of escaping, only to imprison you again. It’s the best punishment you ever had. 

Her throat was already better than the other cunts you’ve spent yourself in, so what does that make her pussy?

The best. Her overflowing waterfall lets her ride you easily. It seems like there’s a million spots inside her you can target for she quivers and cries with each bounce. Her hair flows photogenically while her chest does the same erotic motion. 

“So fucking good, fuck,” Yena groans. Her round butt lands on your lap and you think you’d like it to stay there forever. Curl your hands around her cheeks. Draw a healthy moan from the throat you used.

Yena’s pussy curves and opens in every best way. She makes it so easy to mold her into the shape of your cock, to rearrange her insides. Was she made for dick? She’s so wet that you’d think she’s a nymphomaniac who won’t let you go, the same way her vagina won’t let you go as its grip curls around you and threatens to milk you to your wits’ end.

You wouldn’t mind that.

Her riding accelerates to an unbearable point the moment you start to spank her. She’s right about hurting and having sex being almost the same—you want to leave red handprints all over her jiggling ass. You want to pull her hair until she screams. You want to fuck this perfect cunt of hers right up to when she’s creaming all over you, flooding your sexes with her naturla nectar.

And the crazy thing is: she’ll actually let you.

“Fucking brat,” you say, hitting her butt again. She yelps coquettishly. “Are you really this thirsty for cock?”

“God, yes…” Her head throws back. Yena’s eyes shut and although her vision is blocked she sees stars. “Wanted to know how your dick would split me open. Fuck, keep doing that!”

Her core tightens with each blow you expel on her bouncing ass. Her hole’s already so enclosed so when she squeezes more, it’s close to having your cock tortured. You’re suffocating inside her.  You’re waterboarded again and again with her waterfall of wetness. 

You guide Yena’s motions with your hands on her behind. She’s so light that you’re practically using her as a doll, fucking her on your erection and letting yourself enjoy how her tits recoil. Her moans turn on a part of your brain that you don’t know, but it transmits to you these thoughts: fuck her senseless.

You raise her as high as you can, her weight nothing even to your long-untrained muscles, then slam her down. She sinks deeper into your lap and takes longer inches. Yena’s screams bounce off the soundproof walls that ensure only you can hear them. Those walls were fucking expensive, so of course you gotta let them have purpose. Slap Yena’s thighs down on yours and let her pussy envelop you right up to the point of bruises appearing on your skin.

How does she not sweat? Your hands wander all over her tight body and still you don’t find a drop of sweat. Her pigtails are still secured. You guess she was just made to be eternally pretty. 

She is pretty, under any circumstance—her smooth skin possesses zero blemishes and her winged eyes remain lamp-bright. She’s pretty, even when she lets out the pitchiest sounds, even when Yena’s lips rise into a devilish smile before sealing on your neck. She nibbles on your skin and rakes up your sensitivity. 

“Holy shit, Yena…”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She licks behind your ear and you nearly lose it. Maybe you already did. “Say my name. Because I’m all yours. This pussy is yours to use and abuse, so do it.”

Rub her tiny pulsing clit. Yena’s cries deafen you. If that’s not enough, she drowns you with her cum. There’s no raft to save you. You’re all alone. You’ll drown here and never see the light of day again.

Electricity runs through her body as the pleasure ramps up. Her fingers weaken on your shoulders. Her gasps are split off by larger, more surprised evolutions. Yena’s close.

“Fuck, no, I can’t!” Yena’s riding is furious and borderline abusive. The noises between your two crotches are louder than before. 

“You can,” you insist. You throb inside her while her pussy becomes smaller despite the many thrusts you perform. “Take it like a good girl, Yena.”

“Fuck me, use me, I’m just your cute little helpless girl, fuck me!”

She couldn’t be more correct. She’s just a useless doll, thin and adorable and tight—so why not use her like one?

You’re surprised your limbs have any power in them, but they impress as you lift Yena up. During your walk to the counter, you don’t stop thrusting in her. She’s wet and ready, just waiting and begging for it to happen. Her pretty face is smudged with tears. There’s sick satisfaction in you from seeing how the confident girl at the bar is now just a fuckhole to use. 

“Oh, oh, ah!” Cute little whines come out from those lips. Her mouth used its power to pick you up, make you cum, make you scared. In this second, all that is gone: she’ll only ever use it to wail in pleasure.

Knock her against the kitchen counter. Her thighs press to the curve. You spread them open and continue spending yourself to death in her. Her sides that slant to make the physique you love are perfect handles to thrust. 

You’re completely soaked, but she’s completely defiled. The dream girl is not just any dream but a wet dream. She’s the fantasy you never had but will constantly think of now. And you don’t care if WAKE12 knows you’re fucking her. They can read all the thoughts you have about Yena as much as they like, and you wouldn’t care.

Instead of giving a fuck, you twist her around, her smooth back in front of you, and fuck her harder while you’re at it. Admire the way your hips slap her ass and give her the spanking she deserves. One spank, that’s for being so tempting. Another for the price of her promiscuity. Three one-after-the-other’s because she’s too wild, too free for a girl with that face.

“God, please, harder!” Yena cries. “Make me your little cocksleeve cumslut!”

She does not take pain to heart, physically and mentally. In spite of your rapid pumps and the slap of your stomach to her bent and ready ass, no bruises or scratches appear on her skin. You say all these degrading words and rather than mope about it, she gets more turned on. She forces you to give all your might in railing her in this apartment where the open windows give you away rather than the sounds. And you’re nodding along, saying:

“Of course.”

Of course you’ll grab her tits and pinch their nipples as hard as you can. Yena’s skin might not be humanly warm but these boobs are real. They’re soft in your palms and plentiful. Is she a masochist? You tweak and slap and squeeze; in response, she’s… smiling?

Of course you’ll slip your touch all over her body. Appreciate every perfect curve, every fine fullness. After fondling her tits, you slide your hands over her smooth pits, then to her arms that struggle to remain stable. She’s sensitive all over; it’s evident in the way she babbles each time you caress her. 

Of course you’ll take her hair and pull as hard as you can. She won’t get mad. Nothing ever gets to the cool girl.

“Oh my god!” Yena shouts. 

Those pigtails are there for a reason. Thrusts become easier to do with her hair curled in between your digits. Her ass meets your crotch easily and you find yourself excavating her cavern, hitting her in all the good places. Yena hums and screeches and sobs. 

“Bad girl.” Her hair plays the role of your reins. They’re convenient in spreading Yena apart with your shaft, tearing at her tightness. “You’re nothing but a filthy cocksucking slut.”

“M-mhm, yes, just for you, just for this perfect dick, ahh! I’m cumming!” 

Yena’s core flexes and contracts. It holds you like it never wants you to go but you let go anyway. You can do nothing besides that especially if it’s her, someone who’s so cute but so seductive, so challenging but submissive. Each part of her—those blowjob lips, her blooming face, her cockiness—makes you wish this could never end.

The first sign of the end of this pornographic one-reeler is your semen raining inside her, setting a storm in her guts. You pant, legs weak, while Yena’s seem to go on forever although she’s smaller than you.

The second sign is the mess she made. Those aforementioned desirable legs are painted by obscenity. She squirted all over your floor and herself. Your cum coats her vulva plus spills down freely.

Yena looking back at you with a tired smile is the last one, along with her asking, through shattered breaths, “Better than your whore ex?”

Because that’s the thing about girls like Yena. They’ll do everything to please you. Perhaps she’s a good dresser, but really, this is your style, not hers. This type of fashion is what you like on women: modestly revealing. Girls like Yena will give you everything, make you discover yourself, and when all this happens, she’ll remain the thoughtless, forgiving girl. She won’t complain about things that will set you off and say coy, clever things, the kind men like to hear.

All just to be better.

She is.

“Yeah.”

Yena chuckles. For a moment, she looks like the sweetest girl in the world. The happiness overtakes her face and makes her smile reach her ears. 

It disappears as fast as it arrived.

“Wrong fucking answer.”

Alarm sounds of every kind—natural disaster, fire, robbery, whistles—blare in your head. You can’t hear anything except the thin screeches of emergency. But for what?

Yena loses her brightness. Everything that made her shine shuts down. She smiles, that same one full of mischief, before she breaks, too. Her eyes turn pitch black, the ones you see in crows, the sign of bad luck. She disassembles part by part before you. The light girl is suddenly so heavy that she forces you down. Suddenly, her torso above yours feels colder than before. 

What the fuck? 

Escape is your first instinct. You push the remains of the girl away. Your feet kick the broken parts as if you’d break, too. You brush past the fringe of her bangs. Below it, no diamond scar rests on her forehead.

Stare down at her. Yena truly is not real. Your manic robotic dream girl is dead. She was never alive. 

“You have been found guilty,” says the implant. You used to hear it when WAKE12 arrested people and now it talks to arrest you. The alarms are loud but you understand every fragment. 

The implant’s emotionless voice now sounds a lot like—

“Chaewon?” 

Bad luck comes just like the consequences of the law, personified by stilettos clicking on your floor, a shadow in the moonlight, and the face of the woman you swear you never wanted to see again.

And yet here she is.

Chaewon looks so much like Yena. Yena looks so much like Chaewon. Their chins, their eyes, their bangs—who is who? Their faces mingle and mix in your vision. You think you’re going crazy.

She puts away a remote control and places her hands on her hips. Her black bodysuit is all you see as she approaches. Her smiling lips don’t utter a word. You hear her voice, all in your head.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything and everything you do shall be punished by WAKE12 accordingly. This is the price you pay for your crime.”

There’s a gun in front of you. It’s aimed at your chest, determined to crush what keeps it beating. Raise your hands, but not in surrender. You’ll die before you try to be Chaewon’s toy again.

“What crime? Being your ex-boyfriend?” you spit. This has got to be a joke. “Chaewon, I said, what crime?”

She can’t abuse her authority. She couldn’t have done all that just to get back at you. And for what? Being a bad boyfriend when you were younger and dumber?

You hear her speak. That striking smile looks more terrifying than beautiful. It dissolves into darkness to pronounce your wrongdoing. 

“For the crime of fucking existing,” she snarls.

You hate Chaewon. You swore you never did yet now you do wholeheartedly. You tried to love her and reciprocate her efforts. She’s a busy woman so she should have understood you had other commitments.

This is the last time you ever want to hear from her. 

A bullet you don’t see coming. It soars in the wind and finds its home sweet home in your skull.

She’s the last thing you ever heard.

[communist-ojou-sama]

Otherside Picnic (manga) vol. 12, bonus chapter

Bonus Chapter: Flashback to That Night

“...Hey, Sorawo.”

Nishina Toriko had been quiet for a while, as I was thinking she was making an odd expression as she opened her mouth, her next words were “What should we do about the wrap-up party?” for a moment, Kozakura lost the thread of the conversation.

...Hm?

Kamikoshi Sorawo, like Kozakura, was looking at Toriko quizzically. Seeing those looks, Toriko added, as if making an excuse,

“Look, we went into the Otherside this time too, right? Then we’ve gotta have a wrap party.”

If you didn’t know anything about these two’s usual routine, this addition wouldn’t serve as much of a justification, but with that Kozakura was able to reorient herself within the conversation. Toriko and Sorawo have a habit of going out for food and drinks after coming back from exploration of the Otherworld, and calling it a ‘wrap party’. To Kozakura, who’s so afraid of the Otherside that she can’t help herself, the exploration that serves as a precondition to this celebrating is already so abnormal that she couldn’t imagine wanting to celebrate it, but on the other hand, she could undertstand it a bit. As a sort of ritual of return to daily life from a dangerous environment full of fear, the idea of a wrap party didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Perhaps the reason why she felt that way was because she herself was in need of such a ritual.

As she lifted her gaze, her eyes met with Migawa, who was standing with butler-like good posture. As if reading her thoughts, he nodded once. After finishing the rest of her tea, she set the cup down on the table with a clack.

“All right! Got it! Let’s go eat some meat!”

The two girls on the sofa looked up at her in surprise.

“Eh? But I don’t have that kind of money.”

Hearing Sorawo say something so timid brought an involuntary laugh to Kozakura’s lips. She trapises into the Otherside without a thought, but she’s afraid of an expensive meal.

“This time, I’ll treat you-- You did save me after all.”

We settled on the meat bar in front of the Shakujii Park station for our celebration. Ordinarily, Kozakura was not much of a meat-eater, but right now she felt like her body was craving some animal protein.

It had only been three days since she and Sorawo were abducted off of the street. Just three days! In that short span, entirely too many things have transpired.

Getting kidnapped is a big enough deal on its own, but then they were brought to a ruin in the middle of the mountains of Hannou. The person waiting for them there was a 4th-kind contactee, and had the ability to brainwash anyone with the sound of her voice.

Urumi Runa-- the teenage wannabe streamer.

Just remembering it sent a shiver down her spine. It was a terrifying voice. Far beyond the domain of ASMR, this voice from the Otherside rendered anyone who heard it a literal prisoner.

Urumi Runa brainwashed untold dozens of people with it, and made a cult centering around worshiping her. Kozakura was interrogated by Runa’s voice, and made to spit out everything she knew.

That said…

As she watched Sorawo and Torako across the table choosing from the wine menu, Kozaku was spurred into a bittersweet train of thought.

While she might have told her everything she knew, Runa’s questions were mostly about Uruma Satsuki, or well… the version of “Satsuki-sama” that existed exclusively in her mind. And in being asked, Kozakura realized that her knowledge of Satsuki didn’t really amount to much at all.

Ultimately, just what sort of person was she?

As she succumbed to Runa’s voice, that’s all Kozakura could think of.

She never did find an answer to that question, and she may never have a chance to get an answer, going forward.

“What drink do you want, Kozakura-san?”

Sorawo’s question brought her back to the present.

“What are you two drinking?”

“We’ve never had rosé before, so we were thinking of trying it.”

“Ah, is that so. I’ll just go with that.”

After she answered, Sorawo wrinkled her brow.

“Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed a little bit out of it.”

Kozakura was internally surprised that this girl had developed the capacity to worry about others.

“I’m fine. Well, I am tired, so I might be a bit out of it.”

“Ah…”

The two of them nodded.

“I’m sure you are tired…”

“Thanks for everything, really.”

“You two, too.”

The information Runa wanted to hear about “Satsuki-sama” was, from Kozakura’s perspective, all inconsequential trivialities. Where she lives, what food she likes, whether or not she ever mentioned Runa, whether there were any pet-peeves of hers that she should avoid… While her ability was terrifying, Kozakura understood straightaway that the girl herself was nothing more than a mentally immature fangirl. This realization depressed her more than anything.

After a litany of mostly unanswerable questions and questions to which Kozakura didn’t know the answer, Runa clearly became a bit irritated at the slow going, but when she learned of the existence of Satsuki’s office at DS Research, and that notebooks written by Satsuki herself were stored there, she got excited, and ordered her underlings to to prepare for a raid.

Runa’s impulsive armed forces, driven on enetirely by her voice…While their organizational principles and doctrine were all childish and immature, If you have no way to deal with her voice, they’re quite formidable.

As she was worrying about the safety of the people at DS research, Runa ordered her followers to detain her and handed her over to them.

It was then that Sorawo saved her.

While her consciousness was still hazy from the effects of the questioning, Runa’s followers seemed to have a falling-out, and before she had any idea what was going on Sorawo had saved her and woken her up. While she was a bit disconcerted by how different Sorawo’s aura was from usual, they attempted to escape from the ruins, but…

The wine and ham arrived.

“Wha!? Sorawo, this isn’t sweet!”

“You’re right. This isn’t what I was expecting.”

“But this also tastes good in its own way.”

“It’s nice and refreshing.”

Sorawo and Toriko are surprised at their first time drinking rosé. When they’re relaxing and chatting like this, you could never take them for a woman who mercilessly destroys others’ minds, or a woman who’d raid a cult’s base of operations, assault rifle in hand. Not unlike Urumi Runa, Kozakura felt unease about the mismatch between these girls’ capacity for destruction and the childishness of their mentalities.

However, it’s also true that that immaturity likely saved her. Had they not been so foolhardy, she may not have made it out of that situation.

Their escape attempt came to a dead end, and Kozakura and Sorawo were once again caught in the basement of the ruin. Kozakura, now Runa’s hostage, passed through the gate and was brought into DS Research. Perhaps because she was rendered unable to resist by the voice, her consciousness became vague, as if in a dream.

And then, when she came to, Satsuki was there.

But what stood there was… that, was not Satsuki.

It was some completely different thing, imitating Satsuki’s form. Kozakura understood the the first instant she saw it. Within the empty husk of the woman she’d once loved, some unknown creature was was wearing it and moving it around.

And Toriko was moving toward that monster. While calling Satsuki’s name.

Stop it, Toriko.

Can’t you see? That’s not Satsuki.

From the depths of terror that kept her body frozen, Kozakura desperately clawed her consciousness back together. Summoning up all her irritation at Toriko for not recognizing this Satsuki as a fake, and her fury at Satsuki for trying to involve herself with such a young and immature girl, desperately, she moved her body.

Get yourself together, Sorawo-chan.

Hurry! Grab her! Toriko’ll get taken away!

She squeezed out that shout, and had no memory of what happened after that. When she came to, she was back at DS research.

There was no sign of Satsuki, and Runa was unconscious with her mouth gruesomely torn open.

Kozakura, with her mental and physical energy entirely spent, fell asleep on the spot without being able to take so much as a step-- in fact, she felt like she fell unconscious.

The main thought in her head as her consciousness faded was surprise that Sorawo and Toriko brought her back with them and didn’t abandon her. It was that extreme of a situation.

They might be hopelessly impulsive brats, who’ve matured in bodily terms alone, but they’re good kids. That was Kozakura’s appraisal of the two of them now.

So, well, there’s no harm in treating them to some overpriced steak, just for today.

As she gazed in a generous frame of mind at the two of them eating their meat, suddenly, a scene that she’d forgotten about flashed back across her mind.

Kozakura and Sorawo, having escaped from the cultists, hiding in a narrow locker.

Sorawo’s hand resting on Kozakura’s head as she trembled.

Her head being petted, as if to pacify her.

Over, and over.

Back then… why the hell did this maniac pet her!?

Kozakura couldn’t take her eyes off of Sorawo, who was cutting meat with her knife.

...No, really, why the hell did she do something like that???????

Perhaps sensing her gaze, Sorawo looked up.

The instant before their eyes met, the smartphone on the table began to shake. On the screen was a message from Migawa.

Sorawo looked curiously at her, and Kozakura looked back.

“...It seems like they finished cleaning.”

Kozakura replied, unnecessarily evasively.

END

[hemlocksandfoxgloves]

WIP list!

Originals

Twin Flames Series:

Twin Flames 2/42 Jake and Clay are soulmates. One soul split down the middle, waiting to reconnect. Clayton Jones finds out he has a soulmate when he is 7 years old, months before he meets Jake Phearson. Complete opposites, the two become fast friends until one day Clay has to move. Clay is 12 when he sees Jake again, just starting middle school. Fast forward to now, Jake and Clay are 15 and just starting high school. The two boys have always been teased by their peers for their close relationship, but Jake has gotten tired of it and starts to push Clay away, straining their bond even further. Crimson Scars 0/45 After Clay’s mom lands a record deal she moves them to California where Clay will attend a prestigious school for the talented and arts. It’s a school Clay’s been wanting to go to, but this means he’ll be apart from Jake. Not wanting to bear it, Jake — with the help of his dad — enrolls himself in the school, surprising Clay. The new school year comes with new faces, a new school, and new drama. Soul Shock Outline/70 After graduating high school, Jake and Clay start their new lives as adults. Clay begins attending University while Jake gets a job. Jake meets an old friend who introduces him to a dark world of drugs and chaos. Not wanting to get Clay mixed up with trouble he leaves him, causing a ricochet of problems starting with Soul Shock. Soul Shock is an intense depression that leads to death if left untreated. This happens when soulmates are forcefully ripped away from each other. Clay, unable to deal with the outcome seeks solace in parties and alcohol until he meets Lily, a free spirit looking for love. In Jake's absence, Clay grows closer to Lily but does not quite fill that hole Jake left behind. Something Cosmic Outline/5 After dying in Jake's arms, Clay's soul gets lost into the Void and unless Jake succumbs to the emptiness, he must search for Clay's soul so that they can reunite once more while also running from the Void itself.

Twin Flames Companions:

Anchors Between Us: Lyla and Kayla's Story Outline Kayla and Lyla are soulmates, but when Lyla’s father finds out he forbids her from seeing Kayla for not only being a girl but being poor, too — despite being soulmates. Lyla has never disobeyed her father, which angers Kayla to the point that the two stop talking to each other. Seeing each other at school makes it hard for the both of them. The distance becomes palpable so Lyla proposes that they remain friends. Things become almost too easy sneaking around Lyla’s father. That is until Lyla starts dating the captain of the basketball team. Lily Rose Outline Lily Rose was born on a Monday. Her momma used to say she was a gift from Heaven. If that were true then why didn't her daddy stick around long enough to sign the birth certificate? Lily learned from a young age that if you wanted something then you had to grab it by its ears and run. Then she met Clay. She never wanted anything more.

Two Worlds Outline/6

Roni and Maya are best friends. Have been their whole lives. Roni has had a crush on Maya's brother for years. He's older, cooler, and doesn't treat her like she's just one of Maya's little friends. When Maya finds out about Roni's crush she accidentally lets it slip to her brother. When he starts showing an interest in Roni, she suddenly finds herself having to choose between her best friend and the guy of her dreams.

Thiam

Anchor Series:

I Hear You're Looking For An Anchor Part I 11/44 When Theo is forced to move back to Beacon Hills he just wants to make it through his last year of high school. But then he meets Liam. All he wants to do is get his attention, but in doing so he sparks a fit of anger in Liam he didn't know was there. A rage that interests him all the more. The closer he gets to Liam, the more he feels like he's hiding something underneath all that anger. I Hear You're Looking For An Anchor Part II Outline/44 After Scott bites Theo to save his life, Theo turns into a werecoyote. Not understanding what's happening to him, Theo hides in the Preserve. After finding the newly werecoyote, Liam is hellbent on keeping his ex safe, even if that means staying away from him for his own good. It'd be a lot easier if Theo wasn't constantly finding himself in dangerous situations. I Could Be Your Anchor Outline/18 Liam is struggling with filling Scott's shoes, but at least he has Theo by his side. His first big bad comes in the form of a Phoenix disguised as a new student. Rivals (Prequel) Outline/6 Liam and Brett hate each other. At least that’s what Liam thought. After making the lacrosse team, Liam and Brett are suddenly co-captains and have to figure out a way to get past their fighting long enough to win the homecoming game. What Liam thought was fighting turns into something more when Brett corners him in the locker room one afternoon.

I Don't Believe... In Love Outline/12

Every year Theo is forced to attend this lame party his dad makes him go to to promote his campaign as mayor. This year goes about the same way. Put on a fake smile. Ignore whatever prejudice things his dads coworkers say with a tight lip. Then he sees him. Theo’d be lying to say he wasnt enchanted by his radiant beauty. Their eyes meet and Theo is just gone for him. They spend the night talking about everything and nothing at all. Theo couldnt believe this was real. The next morning Theo wakes up to his world in shambles. The blonde beauty he met last night was the son of Jenna Geyer. The woman who’s been after his dads job for years. The two were spotted together causing an uproar for both boys. Of course it was too good to be true.

A Chimera & His Monster 🌹⛓️

can't help myself (red looks beautiful on you) 15/20 On the night of the Supermoon, distraught with the grief of losing Hayden and Scott, Liam kidnaps Theo, holding him captive. What happens when Liam starts to care a little too much for the Chimera? what is freedom if i can't have you 0/25 “What? Love me? You think this was about love?” “What else would you call it?”

Little Mermaid au

Prince Theo is expected to take crown soon but first he must marry a princess. The entire kindgdom is expecting him to marry Princess Tracy in a month’s time. One night aboarding ashore Theo lost in his head ventures too far out to sea. It was dark when his small boat was flipped with him in it. A lock of blonde hair and a flash of red and gold is all he sees before darkness envelops him. It was the melodic voice that he couldn’t get out of his head. Washed up ashore Theo wakes up on the beach. Eye to eye with his savior, he hears that melodic voice of his again, but also his long beautiful and scaly tail. His father always said they were mythical wretched creatures, but there was something about him. There was nothing wretched about him, but something beautiful.  Day after day Theo would visit the beautiful merman. He couldn’t talk but Theo was learning how to communicate with him. One day he wasn’t there though. Coming back to the castle Theo couldn’t believe it. His father had captured his dear friend. Theo had to save him and protect him. Going against his father, Theo rescues the merman from the poor fisherman and keeps him in his private quarters. As Theo’s wedding comes to a close, he and the merman grow closer. Theo learns that the merman’s name is Liam. Though he sings it with a hushed tone. It sounds beautiful coming from his lips. Theo knows he can’t keep Liam here forever and that he belongs in the sea. Liam seems quite content staying with Theo, though.

The Plastics 🩷 Outline/8 (Nett, side Morey and Thiam)

Nolan is new in school and struggling to make friends. Nothing could compare him for The Plastics.

Saving Theo Outline/3

Hayden’s gone, Scott’s in college, Corey and Mason are going to the same university. Liam feels like all his friends left him and becomes a shut-in, with nothing to do in town. Then he runs into Theo and makes it his mission to save him, even if that means from himself.

Once Upon a Time... au

It's been 10 years since the Enchanted Forest was cursed. Liam, lost with forgotten memories in the real world, is bombarded by a daughter he didn't think he would ever see again.

Trippin' Over You Outline/1

Liam gets a text from Theo one night when he’s out with Mason. They’d been broken up for a while and it’s the first time Liam has heard from him. Mason tells him not to fall for it but he does anyway.

Puppy Pack fic Outline/8

It's Liam's senior year and Scott's away at college. Luckily, he has all his friends here to help him get through the school year.

Fairytales Outline/32

Anthology of fairytales starring Thiam

It's Always Been You Outline/1

Theo joins the lacrosse team to get Liam’s attention.

Playing with Fire Outline/5

Liam's heard of Theo's bad reputation and after getting into a fight with his mom about him not being adult enough, Liam shows just how adult he can be by dating Theo. Liam knows his parents don’t like Theo already so he thinks he's perfect. Mason warns him not to but who is Liam to listen?

The Bounty Hunter Outline/7

Theo was already having a bad enough day, but that all changes when he learns he has to arrest his ex-husband, Liam Dunbar.

Untitled thiam fic Outline/1

Liam is dating Theo. Everyone is still trying to get used to it.

Malacy

Paint Me Like a Canvas 1/1

Malia has a crush on Tracy. One day after school the two collide in an explosion of colors.

Destiel

The Family Business Series:

CLAIRE Outline/12 Claire remembers a time when she was safe. Safe from monsters, demons, and ghosts. But most importantly safe from her dad. After her father disappeared when she was young, her dad was never the same. She lived a life crossing state lines and fighting anything in between, chasing a ghost that didn't want to be found. DEAN (Prequel) Outline/3 After getting caught stealing, Dean's dad sends him to live in a group home to teach him a lesson. There, he meets Castiel for the first time. CASTIEL A long time ago, angels were sent down to Earth to mate with humans and witness the birthing of the first Nephilims. These babies are then to be sent to Heaven where they will train to defeat Lucifer at the End. That was always the plan with Castiel. Mate. Witness. Return to home. But he fell in love with Dean Winchester, and with that their daughter Claire. JACK When Jack's powers begin to manifest, the Winchesters are at a loss for what to do. Especially when they start to notice a darkness in the boy. It all comes down to this, the End. Is Claire strong enough to fight her own brother, though, much less kill the evil that penetrates his soul?

Rickyl

The Fall series:

Before the Fall Outline/34 It takes Daryl about 3 months to start realizing his feelings for Rick. By that time Rick finds out the truth and Daryl's never felt like more of an asshole than he does right now. After the Fall Outline/31 The dead are walking about and Daryl can't accept his husband is really gone.

The Flash

A Manipulation in Love and Violence

ma·nip·u·la·tion noun 1. the action of manipulating something in a skillful manner. 2. the action of manipulating someone in a clever or unscrupulous way. Manipulation. Is that what they call it? I always thought it was called love. No one could’ve guessed that the man who killed my mother was the same man who I let not only into my sheets, but into my heart as well. Certainly not me. Eobard Thawne. Only, I didn’t know, he was a man behind a mask. A mask my heart forbade me to look past.

An Allegation of Fire and Ice

al·le·ga·tion /ˌaləˈɡāSH(ə)n/ noun 1. a claim or assertion that someone has done something illegal or wrong, typically one made without proof. Leonard has been chasing after Barry for months now, but when Barry stops giving into his taunts, he thinks something must be wrong. One night Barry comes asking for Leonard’s help. Of course Leonard was going to say yes, anyway, but he wanted Barry to beg. And beg he did. Of course Barry keeps Leonard a secret, not wanting to admit the truth even to himself. But is he somebody he could love or is he just a distraction from what’s really going on. Can he trust his heart with another? Or is it too soon?

A Misconception of Truth and Chaos

mis·con·cep·tion /ˌmiskənˈsepSH(ə)n/ noun 1. a view or opinion that is incorrect because based on faulty thinking or understanding. Harrison Wells was everything Barry could ask for. He was the guy of his dreams. Of course, it had to be too good to be true. Nobody was that perfect. After everything with Eobard, Barry is confused when he meets Harry. He doesn’t want to but he ends up falling for Harry. Barry has to learn how to separate the face from the person.

Shelnard

When Sheldon Met Leonard

The story of how Sheldon and Leonard fall in love.

Buddie

Deployed at 118 Outline/4

If Buck and Eddie were already married. Eddie is on a tour in Afghanistan while Buck is left alone to care for Chris.

Buck's Story Outline/5

When Buck is 18 Eddie breaks up with him. He spends his tuition money on a motorcycle and drives it to Boston. From there he just keeps running from the heartache, never seeming to escape the one that got away. He doesn’t see Eddie again until he’s face to face with him at the 118. Then Buck meets Chris and suddenly they were this little family he never knew he needed.

Buddie Bachelor party fic

The morning after Chimney's bachelor party Buck wakes up next to Eddie, who claims he doesn't remember a thing that happened the night before.

Tracy/Erica/Allison

ain’t it funny how i’ma have the last laugh? (co-written with @thiamsxbitch) (side Thiam) 1/3

After a prank gone horribly wrong, Tracy comes back from the dead with a thirst for blood and vengeance.

Jasher

Are We Just Fucking or Do You Love Me?

Jordan and Asher have a one-night stand the summer before Junior year.

[dumbkiri]

her muse pt. 2

talk about a crappy day. [name] doesn't get her fight with katsuki. instead the two are sucked up by a sludge villain wanting to claim their quirks. after all that, [name] has an encounter with someone she hates.

midoriya izuku x fem!reader

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

a/n: this isn't a thought out story. I wrote this all on a whim, so critique it with a grain of salt lmaoooo also I don't have any idea who really should be a love interest. midoriya was first pick, but like uraraka lmaooooo so ima add some bakugo moments.

That text never came and Izuku watched in horror seeing his childhood friends being harassed by the same villain that bothered him. 

It had happened all too fast for the strongest students at Aldera Middle School to react to an attack. Their cocky and angry attitudes toward each other morphed into one of surprise. 

“You two, get out of here!” [Name] pushed Katsuki’s so-called followers out of the way. In turn, she was swept up by the sludge monster and it laughed at her heroic action. 

“You saved them for no reason!” It’s laughter was filled with no concern for her or Katsuki. Her rainbow colored eyes made contact with Bakugo just in time to see each other being harassed. 

“Kat…suki!” [Name] groaned in a miserable tone as she moved her head about using her wind quirk to push the tentacle trying to worm its way into her mouth. “Blow this bastard up!” Her arms were pinned down to her sides, but that didn’t really limit her quirk usage. 

To this, Katsuki lit his hands up and it caused the villain to laugh. His efforts were making things worse as things caught on fire and damage was being done around them. “Silly girl! If you don’t surrender yourself to me, I’ll use your friend instead! How’s that sound!” 

[Name] watched as the villain pulled Katsuki further into his slime body and she was stuck trying to choose what to do. A tentacle slid up her leg and she shrieked from the contact allowing another tentacle of slime to make its way to her mouth. 

She choked on it and she couldn’t focus any longer as the villain began enveloping her. She couldn’t think straight, if she used her fire to push this villain off of her, everyone around her would be in danger! Tears pricked her eyes as she wasn’t getting any sufficient air in her system. 

“How dare you prey on children!” A hero shouted and punched the slime villain. The villain wasn’t hurt, it couldn’t be. Something has to blow it away! [Name] felt herself slowly lose consciousness. She needed to use her wind to push away this villain. Chip at him little by little if she has too. 

[Name] heard Katsuki yell and he got his mouth free yelling at the villain. “You picked the wrong guy to mess with! I’m gonna send you back to whatever sewer you crawled out of! Let me go!” Katsuki used his quirk and the explosions got bigger around him. She felt the heat and it burned her skin, but it also allowed her to stay awake. 

She was going to get out of here too! [Name] closed her eyes tightly and a huge gust of wind came down the street. Light objects like plastic water bottles, papers and the like were flying around the sludge villain. She focused harder and the wind got stronger to the point where people had to hold on to each other or stronger objects that wouldn’t budge like street poles. 

The wind forced the slimy tentacle out her mouth and she greedily sucked in a huge breath of well needed air. “So much power from the both of you!” The villain cheered in excitement, his crazed eyes looking down at the girl. 

“Let us go, you pervert!” [Name] shouted at the top of her lungs and her right hand lit on fire. The ground beneath her cracked and she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She wanted out of this situation. She didn’t want to be touched any longer. 

“Oh~” The villain cooed with a giant smirk, his giant eyes looking up and down her frame, “but this girl, she’s so much stronger! I don’t need you!” The villain spat Katsuki out of his body and instead focused on taking complete control over [Name]. But she wasn’t going to go without a fight!

The villain slammed her back against the floor and she threw a fireball at his eye. “Hah! Just let me take control of you, silly girl!” The villain grew larger in size and not even the wind was going to help her get him off her. She was going to die if the heroes around her won’t help her. 

She tried crawling backwards away from him. She tried throwing multiple fireballs at him. She tried throwing pieces of the broken earth beneath her at him. Nothing was working against him!

The slime villain hovered over her fear stricken body and she felt herself having a panic attack. She couldn’t think straight. The voice of the villain telling her to give up. The voices of the heroes that already gave up on saving her. 

She heard them all. None of them couldn’t help her. She was alone in all of this. As she covered both of her fists in fire, [Name] slapped and blocked the onslaught of tentacles aiming for her mouth. “Katsuki!” She shouted in a desperate cry, “I need you to blast this bastard away! You’re the only one capable of doing that!” 

Her voice carried in strong waves and it sent shivers down the peoples back. 

“Let go of me! You heard her! I’m the only one that can help her! Damn it, go help her! Stop holding me back!” 

The strain in Katsuki’s voice caught [Name] off guard and she looked to where her friend was being held back. Death Arms had his arms wrapped around Katsuki’s torso not letting him go back into danger. “Gotcha, girly!” The villain cackled and held [Name] upside down by her ankles. She squealed and the flames on her hands disappeared so she could hold her skirt down. 

“You disgusting- umph!” 

The villain shoved a tentacle in her mouth and forced himself onto her. [Name] squeezed her eyes shut and cried for help in her head. The sludge villain laughed at her predicament and lowered her closer to the floor. “If any hero tries to save her, I’ll snap her neck! Don’t test me!” 

The ground started to shake in tremors and a small tornado was forming around the villain. The fire was being sucked in and [Name] clenched her hands tightly. ‘Anyone, please! Help me!’

“[Name]!” 

Her eyes shot open and she was surprised to see Midoriya run straight to her, small tears leaving his eyes. His breath was unsteady, but his legs moved so fast towards her. “Ugh not this kid again!” The villain moved to attack Izuku, but instead he threw his yellow backpack at the villain. A journal hit the villain in the eye and the tornado dispersed immediately when Izuku came to range. 

He clawed at the sludge and [Name] broke free with a gasp . She worriedly looked at Izuku and told him as she coughed, “Izu! It’s not safe here! You have to go!” 

Izuku looked at her as he watched the slime enter her mouth again. He nervously smiled at her, his hands not stopping. “I couldn’t just stand there! I couldn’t watch you die! I’ll never leave you behind, [Name]!” She couldn’t respond back to him as the villain cackled and forced himself back onto the girl. 

“She’s mine now! And I’m done toying with you!” The villain shouted and raised a giant hand to slam Izuku down, but the poor boy was protected from the hit. The smoke had settled and All Might stood in all his glory. 

[Name] felt All Might’s hand dig in the sludge and he grabbed her small one on his own. “Detroit!” She closed eyes and prepared for All Might’s punch, “SMASH!” 

All Might successfully pulled her out of the slime while punching the slime villain the hell away from her. She was secured in his grasp as the wind around them formed a tornado high in the sky. It dispersed after a bit and her tired body collided against Izuku’s as they were placed on the uneven street below them. 

She sighed in relief and reached a shaky hand out to Izuku. Her fingers traced from his cheekbone down to his chin and she smiled at him weakly, “Thank you, Izu. You saved me.” She pulled away from him and turned to lay on her back, her face being touched by the raindrops. 

“I’m so tired.”

…

[Name] was swarmed by interviewees and heroes praising her and Bakugo for their courageous act they put out. Yet their kind words never reached her ears because she was focused on the ones she heard from the two heroes scolding Midoriya. She walked away from Katsuki’s side and approached the timid boy. 

“Please, be nicer to him,” She gently said and wiped the dirt off her skirt, “Izuku may have been reckless, but he was brave in his own way. If he didn’t step in when he did, I think we all know what would have happened if that villain got in control of my quirk.” 

The two pros looked at her and couldn’t really say anything to her. They weren’t in the place to do so because not even them could step in to help her. Kamui walked up to her and showed concern over her wounds, “You should have your cuts looked over, go to the-” 

[Name] raised her hand and smiled, “I’m okay, once I’m in the mood to sing, my voice will heal me just fine.” 

Death Arms looked at her in awe and questioned her, “Wait, you are able to control the elements and you can heal yourself? I have to say that’s very impressive!” 

“My singing voice heals all kinds of wounds of others and myself. I think it’s very useful as well.” She blushed and looked down at Izuku. [Name] gave him a shy wave and said, “I have to go now. My dad is probably worried about me and my phone is dead. Thank you again, Izuku. I’ll see you at school.” 

“R-right, please be careful on your way home,” Izuku stood up from the ground and waved back at her.  

……

‘I wonder how Katsuki is doing? I kinda ditched him for Izuku…and we never did have our duel - ughhhh~’ [Name] rubbed her forehead and kicked a pebble off to the side. 

“Hey, kid, been awhile, huh?”

[Name] stopped dead in her tracks and turned around slowly to see her mother looking at her with a conniving smirk on her old face. Her mom’s rainbow colored eyes stared straight into her anxious soul. 

“You gonna give me a hug or what?” 

No,was the word [Name] wanted to reply back with. But she didn’t have the gall to do it. Instead she kept her safe distance from that wretched woman. [Name] kept her mouth closed and her fists clenched too tightly. Then she mustered up the confidence to speak.

“What do you want?” [Name] asked, her eyes squinting into a glare directed at her mother. 

“You know what kind of proposal I’m going to give you.” Her mother rolled her eyes in annoyance and continued to say,  “It’s time for you to start your real training. Time for you to keep my dear friend happy.” 

[Name] cleared her throat, the lump inside was too big to swallow, “I already told you and that man, I want nothing to do with your agenda.”

“Oh, my dear, [Name],” Her mother relaxed her shoulders and one foot began tapping against the floor, “do you want your poor dad to suffer? He’s a good man, we both know he doesn’t belong in our world.” 

[Name] slammed her destroyed school bag on the floor, her mouth twitching in anger, “You leave my dad out of this. He wants nothing to do with you anymore and I don’t blame him. You used him then left him for some ugly ass guy. I won’t be used like my dad.”

Her mother sighed and threw her hands in the air. Her nails long and sharp, they glittered in the sun with the polish on them “Fine~ You leave me no choice then. You either train with me and accept your Siren quirk or you lose both your quirks surrendering them to that man.” 

[Name] looked down at the floor and weighed her options. Losing her quirk doesn’t sound good and to leave it to that man to use it like it belonged to him made her blood boil. She was still going to attend U.A, maybe if she got a pro’s help then she’d be fine. Yes, that could work. 

‘You want a show of my quirk, I’ll give it to you,’ [Name] wiped her eyes and looked back at her mother. “I’ll train with you, on the condition that you don’t visit this town anymore. I’ll meet up with you when you need me. It doesn’t go the other way around.” 

Her mother shrugged her shoulders and began walking away from her, “That’s a good girl! I’ll see you soon, darling!” 

[Name] stayed in her spot until her mother’s body was out of sight. When she was gone, the girl sucked in a deep breath and put her hand on her chest to feel her beating heart. She had to play her cards right. She knew her mother and that villain group she was a part of was going to utilize her especially because she was going to U.A. 

“Hey, what the hell was that about?” 

“Ahh!” 

[Name] spun around and saw Katsuki looking at her with his scrutinizing red eyes. She picked up her bag and stupidly asked, “What do you mean?” 

Katsuki scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, if you don’t wanna tell me about the shitty relationship you have with your old lady, I won’t ask.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans and began walking towards his house which was in the same direction of [Name]’s. 

[Name] ran up to his side and looked at his body. His clothes weren’t as battered as hers, but she saw some light bruises and cuts around his body. “Hey Katsuki,” she offered softly, “let me heal our wounds together.” 

“With a stupid song? No thanks, they can heal on their own.” He rejected quickly and [Name] laughed before clearing her throat. Together, they walked back to their houses with [Name] singing ‘When The Sun loves The Moon’. It was perfect because the sun was setting while the moon was coming out to greet its bright rays. 

Katsuki listened intently to the lyrics and side glanced at the girl singing next to him. Despite their disagreements, Katsuki still found her, in his eyes, a great friend to him. Even towards stupid Deku. She was nice, fierce, strong and…pretty. 

Katsuki looked away from her and shook his head in denial, ‘Yeah, right. She’s plain dumb, that’s it.’ 

taglist:

@canthebest1

[accirax]

Disventure Camp All Stars Power Ranking (Round 8)

It's yet again time to round up some power rankings. Will I slip at the start or slide my way to a perfect score?

In case you haven't seen my previous power rankings ( 5 | 6 | 7 ), the Power Ranking Format is essentially a way of ranking how well each player is doing in the game. So, in essence, this is a long form way of predicting who I think will be eliminated from the competition in the next episode. There will be spoilers for last week's episode (obviously) and its power ranking, so make sure to read that first if you don't want to be spoiled on how I ranked our last boot. If you want more clarification on the rules, that first post will help you out as well. Furthermore, I'm going to be spoiling the preview for next episode, so if you want to go in TOTALLY blind, save this for later. Let's go!

Recap - Ellie's Elimination

Current Point Total: 28 acquired/42 total

I should've stuck to my guns, dammit! Why couldn't this exact scenario have played out, like, two weeks ago, when I would've been totally right? Just another failing of my self doubts, I suppose. This time, I'll be sure to doubt those doubts.

Anyways, given that I've anticipated it for so long, Ellie's elimination is as unsurprising as it is understandable (which is "highly"). As I mentioned in my initial thoughts, I really like how they explained her elimination as the game being bad for her, because, it's true! It made it extra surprising that Ellie wasn't there for the Patreon readings-- more or less increasing her odds of rejoining the game later-- but, who knows what'll happen there. For now, I think this season will be fine without Ellie there to add her particular brand of spice, even if it helped to flesh out the season's palette while she was there.

Also, I finally put the boot in 10th place instead of 9th place :D I'm improving!

Trailer Analysis

Tom and Aiden will do... whatever the hell this is. My guess is that Tom is (lightheartedly) teasing Aiden about something regarding James. Maybe it's some kind of pivot after Aiden tries to press Tom further about his mysterious boyfriend?

Alec and Grett will join Riya sunning herself on the beach. This may be important if it's showing Yul being on the outs.

Gabby will yell at Tess, presumably confronting her over Ellie's elimination.

The way the shots before this one were cut together, it seems like Ashley and Riya (and, by extension, Magenta and Yellow) will argue with each other.

The challenge will be something involving a slip n slide track where contestants shoot a ball at the end. Notably, it seems that they don't start off holding the balls at the beginning of the track. Also, some contestants are shown sitting, while others are shown standing. Maybe there's a break point in the middle where they acquire the balls, and can switch between sitting and standing?

The thumbnail shot, which shows Tess and Ally arguing with someone. Based on the earlier content, my guess is Riya/the Yellow Team.

Jake, at least, will also attempt to throw a ball before the stop at the end illustrated by Grett. Some theories: 1) this is a desperate hail mary at the end of the challenge that Jake throws early to prevent Magenta from losing, 2) this is a desperate pass to either Ashley or Ally, who are standing ahead of Jake, at the end of the challenge to prevent Magenta from losing, or 3) this is Jake choosing to enable PvP and throw the ball at probably Aiden or Tom. Honestly, leaning towards #3.

"You think saying you're gay is something huge? Look what show we're on."

Trevor and Emily will continue their conversation regarding Trevor's feelings for Derek, and Trevor will (presumably) come to outwardly acknowledge those feelings as romantic, coming out to Emily as gay/bi. (Bi is the canon one as far as we last heard.) Emily is sitting on a picnic blanket, which implies that she decided to eat the picnic herself after Yul chose to abandon it. She's an icon for that and the quote itself.

There's a lot more camp life shown in this trailer than the last one. This definitely seems like it could be a short challenge, with more focus on interpersonal relationships and the fallout of last episode's elimination. That definitely gives me some material to work with, although, as always, it's gonna be at least a partial shot in the dark.

Power Ranking

#1: Ashley

I still think Ashley is totally safe. Why would Ally and Jake work together to eliminate her? It just doesn't make sense. Barring, like... a medical evacuation, Ashley will live to see another day. And, based on the trailer, it even seems like Ally would be the more likely medevac.

#2: Alec

I also still think that Alec is very likely to survive, because, similar to Ashley, it doesn't make any sense for Riya, Yul, and Grett to work together to eliminate him. I think the most likely path to an Alec boot would be if he and Riya try to vote for probably Yul, and Yul and Grett decide to vote for Alec, sending Alec home in whatever the tiebreaker would be this time. However, even in that fringe situation, I think that Yul and Grett would choose to vote for Riya over Alec, and that, narratively, Yul would probably lose the tiebreaker challenge. There's no way he'd win a tiebreaker twice, right? Especially with an injured foot?

I also want to draw attention to the fact that the three boots from S1 thus far have been Miriam, Fiore, and Ellie, in that order. First place, then second place, then third place. I do wonder if Alec, as S1's fourth place finisher, will pick up on that pattern and worry about it at all.

#3: Ally

An Ally boot would definitely be surprising. It's still possible that Ashley could choose to side with Jake over her, but I don't think that's the direction the story will take. Like, the intended message could be, "true friends will stick with you through thick and thin, so there's no reason to worry." However, I think that a better and probably more accurate moral to learn would be "if you always assume the worst in people, you'll drive even those who want the best for you away." AKA, I don't think that the narrative would want to reward Jake for slipping back into those old insecure habits by having Ashley cave under his whining.

The way that the writers have fleshed Ally out this season has been really nice, and I hope that her story doesn't end before the merge. Despite her placing sixth in S2 (the same place as, uh, Tom), I always forget that she made it late into the game. Probably because she wasn't bringing a whole lot to the table. Now she is, so let's hope that table doesn't fold under the weight of Jake bias.

#4: Grett

Y'know, I still don't really know what to do with Grett. The narrative as it stands could function without her-- the main plot line she's involved in at the moment is pretty self-contained, and could naturally disappear with her elimination-- but the Yellow Team really doesn't seem like they'd be gearing up to vote her out. Right now, she's a loyal and somewhat naive/subservient henchman, which is exactly what characters like Alec or Yul are looking for.

Due to that logic, I wound up being fairly confident that she won't be the next elimination. I hope she won't, because I really like Grett, both in S1 and DCAS. Then again, I really like pretty much everyone in DCAS, but the show just has to keep eliminating people! Why do we keep putting ourselves through this...?!

#5: Tom

The state of Cyan up until their next elimination is quite the interesting situation, indeed. Given that Aiden, Tom, and Tess already voted against Gabby last time, and Gabby made it clear to us that she doesn't plan on legitimately working with any of them anymore, Gabby is the obvious next elimination from that tribe. So, when considering the others, my main criteria is, "who would Gabby be the most likely to vote for in the case of her finding a totem?"

Given Gabby's character, I imagine that her vote would be decided by who she feels the most betrayed by/is the most angry at, as opposed to being a huge strategic play. All three of Aiden, Tom, and Tess have their arguments for being Gabby's biggest target, which I'll elaborate on in each of their individual sections.

For Tom, the argument is that Gabby would feel the most betrayed by him because he was actually one of her friends on S1, as opposed to Aiden and Tess, who she didn't know super well. She thought they were genuine friends, yet he was out there cackling over Ellie's elimination with the rest of them.

However, despite that personal element, I think that targeting Tom would be Gabby's least likely decision. I'd attribute Ellie's elimination as Aiden's move, and Tess was the facilitator that made it happen. Tom was just along for the ride. Although that hasn't stopped Gabby from holding a grudge in the past (pour one out for Dan), to me it seems like she'd have bigger fish to fry.

Additionally, I think that (other than possibly Gabby) Tom would be the worst Cyan character to lose at the moment, narratively speaking. If Tom is going to be eliminated, it would be much more satisfying for it to be the result of his own poor decisions (like what just happened to Ellie) than Gabby's random silver bullet. Between Jake, Aiden, and the lie Tom trapped himself in, it feels to me like the writers have more that they want to do with Tom yet.

#6: Tess

Alright, so, why would Gabby want to eliminate Tess? Well, Tess was the deciding vote between whether Ellie or Aiden would go home, and, by Gabby's reaction, she was pretty surprised by Tess' verdict. Therefore, Gabby could see Tess as having committed the greatest betrayal.

There is also a possibility that Gabby could manage to eliminate Tess without needing some sort of idol or advantage. At the very least, I'm sure it would be far easier for Gabby to convince Aiden and Tom to work together to eliminate Tess than to get either of Aiden and Tom to flip on each other. Aiden and Tom might go along with it if they were worried about Tess flipping on Cyan to vote with Magenta at the merge because of Ally, or something.

However, I still don't really think that Tess would be eliminated in this fashion. You could argue that her character arc is now complete upon her making the decision to side with the boys over Ellie, but personally, I don't think that's all they'd want to do with her. Down to this next episode's thumbnail, recent episodes have been rekindling the relationship between Tess and Ally, and making us look forward to seeing more happen between them (romantic or platonic). I want to believe that they'll make the merge together, so I hope Tess isn't eliminated here.

#7: Aiden

The answer as to why Gabby would choose to get Aiden out is obvious: he's the one that spearheaded the movement to eliminate Ellie. Out of everyone who is or even has been on the Cyan Team, Aiden is the one who Gabby has bonded with the least. Plus, Gabby could adopt the mentality of "I'll fulfill Ellie's dying wish (eliminating Aiden) or get eliminated trying." It's my gut feeling that if Gabby were to idol someone out this episode, Aiden would be her target of choice.

And, as I wrote about last episode, if James doesn't become a returning player, the writers have less of a direct reason to keep Aiden around. He's still a fan favorite as always, but, like... the name of the game this season is sending fan favorites home. Unless he makes the final 3 again (which, granted, is possible), he will be eliminated at some point. So, why not now?

Well, the reason is still his relationships with other characters, even the ones that aren't James. The last episode also drew attention back to Aiden's relationship with Riya, and heightened the animosity between him and Jake. While having his relationship with Ellie lead to his downfall would make sense, leaving his rivalries with Jake and especially Riya unfinished would be a waste, in my opinion. Those three are dying to have beef with each other at the merge. Now that Ellie's out, maybe Aiden can be my new merge boot, in a synthesized move between Riya and her allies and Jake and his allies. Boy, would that make Tom mad. Honestly, seems pretty legit...

#8: Gabby

I know I kinda promised @/thefandomenchantress that Gabby wouldn't be at the bottom of my power rankings anymore, and, well, she isn't! ... But she's still at the bottom of Cyan. Sorry! Let me explain myself.

Let's be clear: I don't actually think Gabby is going anywhere this episode. While it is possible, I think it would be pretty lame to get the audience all hyped up over a potential Gabby villain arc only to cut it short prematurely. I find it far more likely that she'll be in this game for the long haul, now.

However, if the Connor... and Fiore... and Ellie... boots have told me anything, it's that, if it seems like the entire tribe would really obviously send their votes towards one person, it's probably that person who would be going home. Given that no totem has yet been announced for this season, and Ellie already scoured the entire Cyan camp looking for one, I find it unlikely that Gabby would be able to suddenly produce an idol with which to save herself. Therefore, if Cyan goes to tribal again, Gabby would probably be eliminated. I just find it more likely that they won't.

But even beyond that, you can tell how much I feel like the writers wouldn't want to send Gabby home right now by how I stacked all of the Cyan team members on top of each other. If Cyan does go to tribal, somehow, maybe the writers would be planning some sort of trick to keep Gabby in the game and eliminate... one of the others. I'm pretty confident that everyone Gabby and upward will be safe in the upcoming episode, and that there are only three people at real risk of elimination. So, let's talk about them.

#9: Jake

If Magenta goes to tribal, I think Jake would be eliminated. He made a lot of enemies last episode, which is worrisome. Even beyond the direct implications of potentially making Ashley like him less, by making enemies on other teams, Jake has made it more likely that other contestants would be less likely to work with him come the merge. If Ashley could realize that, she would see that picking Jake over Ally would be bad gameplay.

Leaving Jake's relationships with Aiden and Tom somewhat unresolved would be unfortunate, but viable. I'm working a lot with that shot of Jake shooting the ball while seated, here. Let's say that, in a fit of jealousy, Jake does wind up shooting that ball at Aiden's head, but not in a way that makes Magenta win. That childish display causes Ashley to reevaluate Jake's character, and choose to vote with Ally. In that way, Aiden and Jake's hostility could still contribute to Jake's elimination without Aiden actually casting a vote for Jake. It would be really similar to how they used Jake and Ellie's relationship this season, honestly. Jake didn't get to directly vote Ellie out, but the way that Ellie obsessed over tearing the man down became part of Tess' logic.

Still, Jake is in ninth instead of lower down because he is so entrenched in plot lines and relationships. As I alluded to back in Ally's section, I do definitely get the sense that the writers have a lot of bias towards Jake as a character, given how much focus he's gotten in both S1 and DCAS. He's their special little blorbo. They can't just get rid of him now!

Much like Gabby, though, I'm not going to let my personal sense of narrative override what actually seems to be going down at the camps anymore. I wanted to put one representative from each tribe pretty close to the bottom in case of emergencies, and I think Jake is by far the easiest boot from that team if they do lose. There's a definite gulf between how likely I think it is that Gabby will be eliminated versus that Jake will be eliminated. However, there's a pretty big gulf between Jake and our last two for me, as well...

#10: Riya

and

#11: Yul

I feel like I kind of have to talk about these two together this time because of how I believe the episode is going to play out. So, what do I think will happen?

Well, basically, I think that this episode will result in a big decision point for Alec. At the beginning of the episode, we'll see that scene of him, Riya, and Grett all sunning themselves together, while Yul is off doing whatever Yul does. Then, we'll go to the challenge, where Riya will rile up the other teams and get them mad at her. The challenge will play out as it does, and, in some combination of Riya's tactics and Yul's injury, Yellow will lose. Thus, it'll be up for Alec to decide: is it time to get rid of Riya, or Yul?

Riya is a potential liability to Alec because of how her plans often result in the team losing. She's also very clearly in it for herself, and wouldn't hesitate to screw him over (just like Fiore did in S1). She represents the unfortunate blend of being dumb enough to play the game recklessly while also being smart enough that she might not blindly follow the leader with the same level of obedience that Yul or this iteration of Grett would. Working with her is dangerous. And yet, Alec seems to genuinely enjoy her company. With Fiore, Connor, and even Ellie now eliminated, friends are a commodity Alec is running low on. Would he really want to axe Riya, too? But, would he really let the notion of friendship stop him from doing what's best for his game?

Yul is the exact opposite. Alec has made it clear again and again that he thinks that Yul is a cruel and self-absorbed idiot. I'm sure he doesn't want to work with Yul more than he has to. But, does he have to? Yul and Grett currently have the advantage of coming as a pair, so if Alec wants any prayer of keeping his villains' alliance alive, he should probably keep around two allies instead of one. Yul himself nominated Alec as the leader last episode, unprompted. That level of power is hard to deny.

Despite Grett's connection to Yul, I think that Yul would be the more likely boot from this episode. 'Cause, guess what? Yul's rule of threes with Emily is over now! He fired her from that position, essentially ending that plot thread, which may be a hint that we might let him go soon. Without his earpiece, I could even see Yul saying something cruel to Grett in this episode that makes her decide to flip on him and potentially break up with him. Meanwhile, Riya still has her relationship with Aiden to provide intrigue if they ever meet up again.

It's also possible that Yul and Grett could vote for Riya, while Riya and Alec vote for Yul, resulting in a tie. However, as I said, I think that Yul would be set up to lose the tiebreaker this time around, thus making him this episode's boot anyways.

I've really enjoyed Yul's jokes this season, so I would definitely be sad to see him eliminated. I had been thinking about him as a potential (LOSING) finalist, so, if he doesn't go home this episode, maybe that could still happen. However, it feels to me that the writing is on the wall. If not for him, then, most likely for Riya.

Somehow, these power rankings keep getting shorter to write every time. It's almost like there are fewer variables to consider with each episode. I feel fairly confident that it's going to be Yul or Riya this time, so, hopefully that's another 10 or 11 points in the bag. See you next time!

[unabashedcandymaker]

Shameless 01

Words: 4200

Summary: This is definitely a dom/sub relationship.  Sub!Bucky x Dom!Reader, but it will switch up as the story progresses.  Loosely based off the song Shameless by The Weeknd. It’s definitely angsty as in this one, Bucky has serious self-worth issues and Reader is there for Bucky even if her selflessness is bordering on the line of torturing herself to take care of him, to be there for him and to do whatever he needs of her.  So Reader has some self-worth issues of her own, but she does it all for the sake of the one she loves. 

Warnings: so like I mentioned above, it’s sub!Bucky x dom!Reader.  Let me see if I can list everything.  The only big one I can think of is the orgasm torture where even after climaxing, the stimulation doesn’t stop, making the pleasure overwhelming as they become too sensitive.  There’s talk of edging, but that doesn’t really happen in here.

Shameless Masterlist

You shouldn’t be surprised that you kept finding yourself here. You knew every time he called, you’d come running. It was never a question. It made you feel just a little proud that even though Bucky couldn’t commit to anyone else, he still needed you.  

Sure, it may just be for sex, but it was sex he didn’t trust to have with anyone else. He trusted you more than anyone else. He needed you to fulfill these parts of him, these desires, that nobody else could fulfill, but you.

So here you stood, in the middle of his living room, wearing nothing but your heels and matching panties. Bucky was kneeling a few feet in front of you, on his knees, staring at the floor. Waiting for your instruction.

“Who’s gonna love you like me, baby boy?” You asked in a strong, steady, confident voice that you saved especially for these occasions.

 He didn’t answer, save for a slight shake of his head.

You walked towards him, the clicking of your heels muffled by the carpeted floor. When you were standing in front of him, the hair on the top of his head grazing against your lower belly, you ran your fingers through the soft locks. Your fingers fell to his face and ran gently over his face before pulling back and landing a sharp smack against his cheek. His head moved minutely before you cupped his chin and jerked his face up until his eyes met yours.

“Who else is gonna touch you like me?”

He tried to shake his head again, but your grip on his chin wouldn’t allow it.

“Say it,” you growled.

“Nobody,” he whispered as his stony blue eyes continued to stare earnestly into yours.

“Say it louder,” you commanded, raising your voice.

“Nobody,” he said just as you instructed.

“Have you been a good boy?” You mused as you let go of his chin and his head dropped back down into its original submissive pose. If you weren’t watching closely, you’d have missed the slight nod of his head.

You didn’t much care for this, being dominant, but you were committed to being anything and everything Bucky would ever need. He was your best friend.  

Well, in all actuality, he was much more than that to you, but you’d never admit it aloud. You knew he didn’t handle intimacy and emotions well, choosing instead to cut out that entire part of his existence. So, you’d play along with whatever games he needed.

You swallowed your hurt, pushing it deep, deep down, not to let it resurface again until you were alone in your bed later that night. You wouldn’t allow him to see that side of you. It’s not what he needed today. Maybe, one day when he needs you to be the submissive one, when he has the urge to care for someone, you might have let your weakness show, but today was not that day.

Right now, he needs you to hurt him. You are the only one that can do this for him.

When Bucky gets into these moods, when he gets low and self-deprecating like he is tonight, he needs you to control him. When he called you earlier that evening, his voice timid and shaking, begging you to come over, you knew what he was really asking of you. It wasn’t your kink, but you’d do anything for him. Because he was your kink. He was your everything.

You loved him. 

But you’d never tell him that either.

His eyes were sad; hurt, when he looked up at you again. He was desperate to feel something other than the agonizing pang of guilt that seared like daggers in his chest. When his nightmares get bad, when he remembers all the people that his hands have killed, when he remembers all the innocent lives made worse all from his doings, that’s when he wants, no, needs you like this.

You walk back across the room, aware of his gaze still on you. You approach a large, plush sitting chair that he has against the far wall. Just as you are getting close, you stop and slowly push your panties down your legs and step out of them, leaving the lacy undergarment pooled on the floor.  You take your seat on the edge of the cushion, letting your ass hang half-way off of it.

“Come here,” you instruct him as you crook your finger invitingly towards yourself. He crawls on his hands and knees the few feet until he is kneeling in front of you. “Kiss me…here.” You point to the patch of soft curls between your thighs.

It takes only a second before his lips are on the inside of your thigh. He’s leaving a trail of open mouth kisses up along the sensitive skin before he switches to the other side. He has left his hands by his side as he knows he is supposed to since you have not instructed him to touch you yet.

The man’s mouth was pure sin as it skimmed along your flesh.

“Higher,” you moaned, letting your hands fall to his hair, directing him exactly where you wanted him to go. He growled into your curls as his nose dove between your folds and his tongue dipped into your entrance.

He never stopped for a second, not even to get a decent breath, as he continued. He teased around your clit, making you keen and thrust your hips up into his face.

It wasn’t the first time he had proven to you how gifted he was with his mouth. On more than just a few occasions, he’d had you coming by using nothing but his tongue. This was looking to be one of those occasions as you felt yourself start climbing higher and higher. You would swear it was better than actual intercourse, but you’ve also felt what it was like to come with his cock inside you.

Your body was coming alive, ‘opening like a flower’ is what Bucky usually likes to say when he tops. It took you a few minutes to notice his hips rutting gently into the air, finding nothing to grind against that could relieve the tension between his legs. It was a soft, gentle movement; you doubted he was even aware it was happening.

“Do you want to touch?” you asked, keeping up your commanding tone. He nodded eagerly, but never let his mouth stray from your dripping folds. “Is that big, throbbing cock just aching to be touched?”

He moaned his answer into your pussy, your eyes rolling back slightly at the vibrations sent jolting through your core. His eyes locked with yours as he flattened his tongue and swiped it up between your folds, holding pressure on your clit. You moaned yet again as you took two fistfuls of his hair and pulled him back away from you. The way he whimpered when he lost contact with you sent a deep ache into your gut, begging for release.

“On your feet,” you said with what you hoped was your domme tone, but was far too shaky to be truly convincing. Regardless, he stood quickly and clenched his fists by his sides. It would never cease to amaze you the amount of control he possessed to be able to deny himself the pleasure of touching himself before you instructed him to do so.

“Take them off,” you continued, finding your voice again, and gestured towards the only article of clothing that he was still wearing.

He was slow; his hands coming up to his hips before sliding his fingers down and underneath the elastic waistband of his underwear. His thumb hooked over the top and your mouth watered as you watched him bend gracefully, fluidly, flawlessly, pushing the material down his thick, toned thighs and let them fall to the ground.

His cock was fully hard, bobbing heavily in front of him. It was a deep red and looked like it was dripping with pre-cum already. You let your fingers drum over the arms of your chair, fighting to keep yourself from reaching out and touching him.

“Touch yourself,” you commanded.  “Slowly.”

He didn’t disappoint you. He licked the palm of his hand, even spit in it before he wrapped those long, slender fingers around his thickness. His touch was delicate, you could tell even from here.  You watched as he twisted his grip over his cock as he slid down to the base before bringing it up over the head. His thumb swiped over the slit, bringing a couple beads of pre-cum swirling around the tip before letting his fist slide back down again.  

“Faster.”

He whimpered slightly, but didn’t falter as his hand continued its thrusting, speeding his pace marginally. You could tell he was approaching his climax at a dangerously fast pace. This was usually what happened when you started the night wil him between your thighs. It had been one of his favorites and you used the intimate knowledge that he derived unfounded pleasure when his tongue was between your folds.

It was impossible to fight the urge to touch yourself. So you didn’t.The moment your fingers brushed against your clit, you let the moan fall uninhibited from your lips. Your other hand found your breast and tweaked the nipple tight before rolling it between your thumb and forefinger. The hand on your clit pressed two fingers against the bundle of nerves before starting slow circles.

“Please,” Bucky begged as his eyes bore into yours. His pupils were so blown that you could only make out the smallest gray-blue ring surrounding the pool of blackness.

“Mmm, please what, baby boy?” you mewled as you let your fingers slip down and slide two inside of you nearly to the knuckle.

“Please, let me taste you again,” he asked as his gaze drifted to where your fingers were slowly pumping in and out of you. “Let me make you come…”

“On your knees,” you commanded as you let your fingers fall out of your cunt and held them out expectantly towards him.

He fell to his knees roughly, his mouth devouring your fingers, slurping your juices from them. His hand fell from his cock and you pulled your hand from his mouth quickly.

“I never said you could stop touching yourself,” you said as you gestured towards his swollen cockhead. You watched his lip quiver as he reluctantly started stroking his cock again. “Eat me, baby boy. Kiss me like it might be the last time you’ll lick this pussy.”

Like a man possessed, his mouth was on you, nose and tongue diving into your soft curls and found that spot that had you keening into him again. One hand found his hair and pulled while the other stayed on your breast, pinching sharply at the bud, making you cry out.

You came with a sharp cry, pulling his hair in your fist so tight that you were sure you were going to pull it straight from his scalp.

“Stop,” you huffed, trying to catch your breath.

He never hesitated, falling back into his seated position, hands on his thighs, and head ducked down staring at the floor. You stood and straightened yourself the best that you could on shaky legs. You kicked off the heels and walked over to his side.

“Sit in the chair.”

He rose smoothly, more graceful than any man of his stature should be able to. He took his seat as you strode to the armoire across the room that was usually locked. Now, however, it was open and its contents were on full display.

There were drawers upon drawers full of different toys and gear that he used only with you. Hanging from the top were paddles and whips that weren’t used too often. Sure, when Bucky was the sub most of the time, he craved the pain, but there wasn’t much you could do physically to inflict the kind of feeling he needed.  

But it didn’t matter. That wasn’t the kind of pain he needed. He’d experienced that enough before. No, instead, Bucky’s preference of submission lingered along the lines of orgasm denial and orgasm torture.

Your usual method was to bring him to the edge over and over again, bring him right to the cusp, only to deny him repeatedly until he was a blubbering mess. He always responded so well which made it all the more effective.

His favorite, however, was the orgasm torture; when you would force orgasm after orgasm on him despite his sensitivity. It was definitely the most intense form of punishment for the super soldier as the serum surging through his veins meant nearly no recovery time between climaxes. You could make him cum over and over and over again, only having to stop when you had exhausted yourself.

Tonight didn’t seem like one of those nights. He seemed pretty mild compared to when you usually dominate him, but that didn’t mean you were going to let him off too easily. You’d formed a game plan in your head, settling on keeping it on the simpler side tonight. So you grabbed a simple, adjustable silicone cock ring and some cuffs to restrain his hands and feet.

He watched you carefully as you knelt in front of him, slowly taking one ankle and guiding it closer to the foot of the chair before cuffing it into place. When you moved to the other, he had already widened his stance, making it easier to cuff the other. You walked around to the back and did the same to his wrists. When you were satisfied he wasn’t going to be able to slip his restraints easily, you came back around and stood between his knees. Of course it would be effortless for him to snap the bindings, but like most other things that happen in this bedroom, it’s more about his self control than anything else.

You showed him the cock ring and smiled wickedly when his breath caught in his chest. You knelt and slowly swiped your tongue along his shaft, teasing him before placing the ring in place. When you had it wrapped around his base and the balls, you tightened the band until it was snug.  He showed no signs of discomfort so you let go and crawled into his lap.

With your knees on either side of his hips, you reached between your bodies and fisted his cock, guiding him towards your entrance. Without anything in the way of warning, you slammed down until your ass was flush against his thighs, his cock buried tight inside of you.

This was your favorite position. It allowed you the illusion of intimacy as your bodies were pressed snugly against one another. You knew it was one of his too, but for different reasons. He’d tell you it was because it kept him eye-level with your bouncing breasts. He’d tell you it was because it afforded him the perfect position to watch your bodies connect the way that made you scream his name. He’d tell you it was because you looked like a goddess riding him like this, in complete control, leaving him at your mercy.

“Fuck!” he cursed through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as you continued to slam down in his lap. Your nails raked over his shoulders, the top of his back, before finding home in his hair once more.

“You wanna come, baby boy?” you asked in a heaving breath.

“Yes, p-please…” he gasped as he threw his head back and screwed up his face in concentration. You imagined it was taking everything he had in him not to let go right this second. His entire body was tensed underneath you, even the chair creaked as he was straining against the cuffs.

“You can come…” you whispered in his ear and felt him relax for a second before you continued, “…but I’m not gonna stop riding this fat cock until I’ve come again.”

He cursed in what you assumed was Romanian as he clenched every muscle in his body. You felt him lock up beneath you as he continued to fight against his release, but it was too late.  

This is what he loved, you knew it.  

He was fighting against the urge to let go. His body knew that it was so close to unencumbered bliss, but his mind knew that it came at a nearly unbearable price.

“Come on, baby boy. You can do it,” you whispered in his ear before taking the lobe between your teeth and tugging. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and one hand came up to tangle in his sweat-dampened locks. His head was falling forward to your shoulder as he continued to struggle for control, but you pulled his head back again. Your mouth was now on his neck, nipping and sucking and lavishing his skin with your tongue.

“Come in me, James. I need to feel that big, fat cock spilling all that cum inside of me. God, the way you stretch my pretty little pussy, I can’t help it,” your walls tightened around his straining girth for dramatic effect, “as you hit that same little spot inside me, it drives me crazy. C’mon, I know you want it baby, I know you wanna come in me so hard and deep that it’ll be dripping out of me for hours after you pull out.”

“Oh gods….shit…fu-fucking damn it…f-f-fuck…p-please…” his curses were intermixing between English and Romanian now and you knew he was seconds away from losing it. You quickened your pace as your intermingled sweat made your bodies stick to one another. You let go of his neck, instead placing your hands on his bound wrists, leaned back so your front was on full display, and rolled your hips so sinfully, grinding on him, moaning his name.

With a growl and a cry, he was coming hard inside you. You could feel the way his cock twitched as he pulsed against your fluttering walls. You slowed your pace until you were taking long, slow strides above him. The mixtures of your juices were starting to leak out of you and pool in the chair.  

You let him relax a little before you started your punishing rhythm again, barely hearing his little whimpers as your own pulse thundered in your ears.  You couldn’t help but fall forward again, your head on his shoulder and his breath was hot in your ear as it shuttered in and out.

It took only a dozen more sloppy thrusts before you were coming again.  When your walls clamped tight over him, his whimpers turned to cries before you were sliding up and off of him, and then to the floor on your knees in front of him. Your hands were fisted around his shaft as you worked him quickly into another release.

His brow was furrowed and his eyes bore into yours, his perfect mouth falling open as he came again, his seed spurting up and spilling all over his taut belly.

When his breathing started to return to normal, you carefully loosened the cock ring and unbuckled the cuffs from his wrists and ankles.  

First, you massaged the pink skin on each limb where the cuffs restrained him before you worked your way slowly up his legs. Your hands found his and you eased him up until he was standing. His body sagged against yours as you led him to the bathroom and urged him into the shower.

When the water was as hot as you were going to be able to stand it, you eased him under the spray. Lathering your hands with his soap, you eased them into his scalp, massaging it the way you knew he liked. Once you were satisfied, you eased his head back under the water again, helping rinse all the suds from his shaggy hair. Little by little, you felt him relaxing under your soft touches.

Next, you were grabbing the shower pouf you kept there and poured a generous amount of his body wash into the mesh and started to rub it in circles over his chest. You worked over his shoulders, down his arms, his belly, his hips, and then his legs. He let you turn him around to rinse his front as you started the same, easy, methodical motions over his back.

When you finished with him, you did a quick rinse of your own and turned off the water. You reached for a towel and began patting Bucky dry as he just stood there with a lazy, satisfied grin on his face.  You smiled back as you brought the towel up to squeeze as much of the moisture from his hair as you could.

Once in the bedroom again, you helped him pick out something to wear to bed. You strode over to him, clothes in hand, as he lay back on the mattress, making grabby hands at you to come closer.  Once you’d placed the clothes neatly at the foot, you climbed over him and sat on his lap like he was gesturing you to.

His hands were on your shoulders and he pulled you down so your body was pressed against his.  He kissed you softly, tenderly. His hands slowly slid down to your hips, making you grind over his growing erection.

Without another word, he pulled up your hips and angled you just right until you were able to slide down his length once again. This time, it was slow, soft, and tender. You were able to relish in the way he was filling you up, the way you stretched to accommodate him. His hips came up to meet yours in lazy thrusts.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were to another orgasm, but you didn’t have it in you to care as he slid one hand off your waist and between your bodies. His thumb had barely touched your clit when you clenched around him once more.  

Your cries were quiet, barely able to make a sound as you came for the third time that night. Bucky worked you through it, this time with gentle touches and sweet kisses. He wasn’t far behind you as he snapped his hips up maybe two, three more times before stilling, releasing in you once again.

You rolled off of him and to your back. He stayed close, curling his big body around yours and rested his head on your heaving chest. He liked to count your heart beats as they slowed back to normal.

You shared only another couple minutes of easy silence before he spoke.

“Everyone treats me like I’m damaged.” His voice was so soft, it was almost painful. “I mean, I am…I know I am…but you treat me like I’m not. Most of the time, I try to do better, to be better, but it never seems to be enough. I still feel broken.”

He shifted back off of you so he could look at you. You scooted down so you were eye level with him and turned to your side, mimicking his posture, hoping to keep him at ease and relaxed and talking.

“I don’t know that I can be fixed. It feels like the extent of the damage is beyond repair. But the only time I have ever felt close to being whole again, to being the same guy I was before I left for the war, before HYDRA turned me into a monster, is when I’m with you. You make me feel like maybe I could have that normal life again.”

Your heart was thundering in your chest so hard that you were surprised he couldn’t hear it. He fell silent for a few minutes more and you couldn’t bring yourself to break the quiet. It was easy; comforting. He had closed his eyes and let his beautiful face fall into a relaxed, sad smile.You’d almost thought he had fallen asleep until he started talking again.

“I know you love me. I can feel it every time you’re with me. I can feel it with the way you are with me. I just…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to return those same affections like you deserve. I don’t know that I’m capable of loving you the same way you love me, no matter how badly I want to. I don’t know if that’s a part of me anymore.”  

You brushed a stray tear from his cheek before cupping his face. You let your thumb swipe a couple more that escaped before he opened his eyes again to look at you.

“I’ll always be there for you, Buck. Every time you call, anytime you need me, whatever you need from me, I’m always going to be there. I have no shame in doing that for you.”

Only for you, Buck, you thought to yourself. Even if it kills me.

You leave later that night while Bucky sleeps. It’s what you always do. It’s what you know he needs.  He doesn’t ever do the whole night, the sleeping over, breakfast in bed type stuff. He barely lets himself relax enough to fall asleep in your arms.

So, after his breathing has steadied, after his lips fall into that adorable pout that you love oh so much when he’s asleep, you slip from his arms and out of the bed. You place a soft kiss to his forehead and tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear before pulling on your clothes and walking out the door.

Part 02

[farlynthordens]

V9 post-reading thoughts

i enjoyed the book a lot. i was all for seeing bisco's wholesome and happy family life as well as red's absolutely soul-crushing and lonely existence. when i started reading, I was surprised that bisco and red get along so soon since i was expecting her to play an antagonizing role for most of it (and possibly try to do things like steal milo away). the cover and pre-release advertising kinda gave that vibe lol

it started off great then fell off for me at certain points in the middle, but then the ending saved it. we also yet again had a last minute plot twist/reveal of the true villain.

n'badu's identity was probably the most confusing part of the whole book and i did have to double back to make sure i understood what was going on. if he's the manifestation of bad timelines, is he a god of spacetime who can consequently only create negative events? it seems that way from when you look back on what n'badu had done throughout the book and what he threatens to do at the ending.

i thought this was going to be the end of the series, so as i got closer to finishing i was very confused how this was going to wrap up. i was pleasantly surprised that there's still going to be one more book. red's character arc is more or less resolved, but she obviously has multiple stakes in the new issues that have arisen so i hope she still plays a notable role in v10. i'm worried there's a good chance red will disappear for good when they inevitably defeat n'badu (see meta section).

i wrote down a couple of gripes/critiques prior to reading the final chapter, but many were resolved by the fact that there will be a continuation + the things cobkubo mentions in the afterword. ex:

i was sad that bisco/milo had zero scenes of just the 2 of them since those were generally the highlight of every other book. however, 9 essentially made red the protagonist and bisco/milo were more there to be HER support rather than the other way around like what we've seen in every other book. cobkubo mentions tho that v10 will be more about bisco and milo's bonds.

we never concluded what happened with milo and he's still stuck in another timeline, so that's yet to be resolved. as well as... like.. you know, everything else... I'm still sad that he wasn't there for the final battle tho.

Meta stuff

Early on we learn that red has never used the choushin bow, but its wish granting power was what I had thought to be the main thing that caused sugar's birth and why she turned out as a literal god, since sugar's powers are the highest form of the choushin ability. So in red's universe, sugar turned out as a normal baby bc red and blue never had that ability. Never being able to use the choushin bow ties into what red realizes at the climax, which is that she never truly believed in [loved] herself. She only fought and kept going bc she thought that's what everyone expected of her. She thought of everyone's love for her as obligations she could never fulfill, rather than seeing that everyone just loved her for herself and wanted the best for her regardless of what that meant in the end.

Because of this, red put the weight of the world on her shoulders and wouldn't accept losing or running away from what she thought was "her destiny". But she failed to save her universe at every opportunity she could have technically had, bc she didn't trust in herself or she doubted the love of those around her (like when she chooses to not kill blue). the timeline could have been saved had she gained the choushin bow, realized her true powers (and thus removed her achille's heel of the souls's power burning her when she used it), and/or if sugar was born as a god, etc.

when we learn at the end that red's timeline was just a copied reality and that she, everyone she knew, and everything she ever experienced were "fake"... my question was then "WAS it really all fake?" n'badu doesn't explain why he made the dark timeline, but i felt the implication was just that it satisfied his own desires of seeing 'bisco' suffer, since that was never able to manifest in the main timeline.

even if red's reality wasn't meant to exist, i don't think that makes her or her experiences any less real than bisco's. she is still a living, tangible being. and as we saw towards the beginning when n'badu tried to overwrite the main timeline, bisco too had begun disappearing in a similar way to how red did when she attacked n'badu. if all timelines are subject to be rewritten like that, then i don't see why one would be lesser than the other.

HOWEVER. framing red in this way makes me worried that she is going to disappear. i expect that in v10 she'll be around as a deuteragonist to bismilo, but in the end they're going to defeat n'badu and cause her to stop existing. it would be a very bittersweet ending, since bisco had invited her to be part of his family. another bit of evidence for this is the v8 epilogue... where in which red of course doesn't show up (cobkubo had not even thought of her character yet at that point).

there is a possibility tho for v10 to end well for red. since the antagonists are gods who can rewrite spacetime, sugar (freed from n'badu's control) may be able to completely remake red's timeline herself and allow her to live happily without rust/n'badu's existence.

re: the "do you love yourself?" bit from cobkubo's afterword:

milo is very confident in himself, bisco is unsure. i think this is exemplified by the parallel scenes of them trying to summon their special bows with only their own power. milo is able to summon it because he is extremely self-assured in who he is and what he believes he can do (thanks to bisco always believing in him/learning from bisco that he is a capable mushroom keeper). HOWEVER, this sometimes leads to moments of over-confidence that rebound negatively on him in some way. summoning the mantra bow completely exhausted him and put him in potential danger because he didn't have someone to share the burden of it with.

bisco was not able to summon the choushin bow at all because he needed someone else there to believe in him. he even specifically says "I can't do it without milo" because milo is the only person he's used that bow with/knows milo is the one who believes in him most of all. having red - functionally, himself - be there and say she believed in him opened up a new path to strength. it showed what he could do if he simply had the heart to believe in his own self.

Final thoughts

my initial impression upon finishing the book is that it probably ranks somewhere in the middle of my overall favorite volumes (maybe between v6 and 8?). i definitely enjoyed reading it a lot, the events felt more coherent than 8, and it surpassed my expectations in multiple ways. i'll prob have a more solid placement once i think on it for a bit longer.

positive/high points:

I think v9 has one of the strongest openings of any volume. the first 4~5 chapters were really good. I think the middle was a bit weak at times, but then the final battle saves it.

Has a pretty big cast of characters, both new ones and old ones who are brought back, but it was handled well and it didn't feel confusing. i think my summary probably made it seem more confusing

Red was overall a good and very enjoyable character. I liked getting to see/learn her backstory in pieces, because each new bit of info is a new sadness gut punch. she's also badass in the final battle.

I thought rust was a good antagonist. you could say there's not much dimension to him since he's just a ruthless and (literal) robotic murder machine who loves to see people suffer. but i like it. the whole point of red's dark timeline is that everything has gone to shit and is as terrible as could be, so rust matches that mood pretty well. not every villain has to be DeepTM

Continued the themes seen in 7 and 8 well, such as the idea that you should feel free to live your life the way YOU want and not feel burdened by others' expectations.

From re-reading thru the summary post and thinking back on the events, i felt like there were a couple hints to n'badu being the Real Bad Guy sprinkled throughout the book that i didn't notice during my initial read. in hindsight, this was not a complete surprise like the v5 ending's kurokawa reveal for example.

negative/low points:

I really disliked having bisco nerfed for most of the book by being turned into a kinoko. I feel like this detracted from the emotional impact of the conversations he and red have during this time. there surely could have been ways to showcase red's character than by eliminating bisco's usefulness to the plot for anything other than talking.

Related to above, while in kinoko form bisco often felt uncharacteristically goofy.

N'badu's speech pattern is annoying

Bisco self-cest hint at the end???? red isn't cool being kissed by milo but kissing her alternate reality self is just fine. it isn't cheating if it's with yourself.... i guess.......

other things of note:

This vol brings back citymaker, lifemaker, AND mantras with lots of new skills showcased for each one. i wouldn't say it was confusing, just maybe excessive.

We get a new tidbit of jabi lore

Domino comes back and gets to have a scene where she fights and is very cool. it was also fun learning her personality a little more since we don't really get to in 3

Salt is mentioned a couple times but literally does nothing the entire volume. i know he's just a normal kid in a story full of god-like powers, but they didn't even give him a single spoken line

[nicoolios]

Romantic

Happy holidays @biotickaidan! Here’s your Holiday Harbinger present. My apologies for real life getting in the way and keeping me from posting this on time. You mentioned loving Mass Effect for the moments throughout the series that make it what it is, as well as the character storytelling and a love of both Kaidan and Ashley (which I wholeheartedly share!) I hope you enjoy! A big thank you as well to @masseffectholidaycheer for organizing this thing every year and pulling it off.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45047258

fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14198412/1/Romantic

Amelia Shepard was a lot of things, but she would never call herself a romantic. Romantics tended not to last long in the Alliance, and their numbers amongst N7s were even more dismal. It was hard to romanticize the worst-case scenarios, everything she was trained for, and being expected to choose who would die so more could live beat her down to the point where even finding little things to look forward to was getting harder. That's why turning to fraternization surprised her so. And when fraternization turned to an actual, genuine, using the l- word relationship? Why, that was about as romantic as she’d gotten in years.

She loved Kaidan and Ashley. The talks they shared in the middle of the night about Earth years ago, the way they immediately clicked as a ground squad, the hours spent exploring the Citadel together, even the aforementioned little things like making each other try shitty alien beer in Chora’s Den or taking notes on the most authentic Earth food spots in the Wards. They had a bond the rest of the crew didn’t understand. Commander Shepard didn’t treat them any differently from the crew when it came to missions, but Amelia definitely preferred their company and came to love life aboard the Normandy. Eventually that love spread to one man in particular, born of those late-night chats and impromptu food dates. Private walks on the Citadel. Huddled together in a bunk watching a vid on a small omni-tool screen. Amelia already up hours before her shift, figuring if she couldn’t sleep she might as well get some paperwork done, and finding herself with company. The soldier became the romantic.

Which was how Amelia found herself smooshed into Kaidan’s bunk on the lower level, fingers entwined in his shirt, enjoying the few moments alone before Ashley came looking for some pre-mission destressing. She had already almost gotten her head bitten off by Wrex trying to simply talk to him about the mission. He had to understand why krogan clones weren’t going to help cure the genophage, especially when created by an indoctrinated madman like Saren. He had to understand why going to Virmire was necessary, why destroying the factory was even more so. Emotions ran too hot, especially once Ashley got involved. To avoid anyone getting shot Amelia ordered him into confinement until they reached planet side. Aside from worrying about the general wellbeing of her ground squad, which was a full-time job by itself, all that was left was trying to relax so her friends wouldn’t yell at her for going into a mission already wired. She lived her life wired, finding it near impossible to relax, but saving herself the fight with her crew was worth it. Saving herself her friendships was worth it.

She laid with her head on his chest, one hand on his shoulder and the other playing with his shirt, legs splayed out, hair falling out of its messy ponytail to tickle his face. His arm was curled around her waist, his free hand playing with those fallen strands. Both were in rumpled fatigues ready to be swapped for armor. Both had circles under their eyes, Amelia’s forever more pronounced since she inherited leadership. Both were covered in bruises and healing wounds and scars. Both had no greater concerns than staying in that moment in time forever.

“You think everyone will be able to handle it?” Amelia asked. She caught herself from saying tomorrow, since she’d come to accept that by the same time tomorrow she might be dead.

Kaidan smiled into her hair. “You have a good crew, Amelia. They can handle it. And Wrex will come around. He respects you too much. So does Ash. She'll keep an eye on him. It'll be okay. You'll be okay.”

Amelia had more doubts to voice, more insecurities in her newfound leadership to sort through. Kaidan was the only person she trusted completely to say those thoughts without fear of them leaking to the entire Normandy crew. She had to share them now before the mission, before they could affect her ability to command a ground team. Just as she was about to open her mouth, still smooshed into Kaidan’s chest, the door to the bunk room swooshed open and a storm rolled in.

“What vid are we watching?” Ashley blew in, her personal vid collection on her omni tool already connecting to a tablet in her free hand.

Amelia and Kaidan tried to detach themselves from each other before Ashley noticed, resulting in the both of them ending up on the floor in a mess of limbs and military issue blanket. Their limbs were still partially entwined, Kaidan’s head propped up on the metal supports, Amelia’s wrapped up in her arms in an awkward angle under Kaidan’s shoulder.

Ashley froze mid-step. From the beginning she suspected there was something more going on with the two of them. She just didn’t think it would take Virmire to culminate things. Still. Good for them. “What’s going on here, Skipper?”

“Oh, um, nothing. Nothing's going on, Ash. Just, uh...”

Kaidan never bothered attempting to offer an explanation. He gave a valiant effort to detangle himself and perched on the edge of the bunk, lending Amelia a hand so she could pull herself to her feet.

“Riiiiiight.” Ashley put one arm around Amelia’s shoulders and pulled her towards the door. Amelia reached behind her for Kaidan’s arm. He took it, forming a chain. “I’m assuming neither of you put any thought into this, so I went ahead and picked one out. You two procure the snacks. I'll pull up the vid.”

They were alone again as Ashley detoured into the common area, most likely for the last time in days, leaving them near the kitchens. As Kaidan moved towards the drawers Amelia stuck to his side. Ashley would be a few minutes yet. After all, Amelia was a romantic now. She had to act the part. And by this point, she had to admit, it wasn’t an act anymore. Amelia loved her best friends, the first she’d ever truly had, and beyond that she had Kaidan. She had family.

[triviareads]

Releases on May 19th

Summary:

Jordan, Earl of Emerson, has inherited an estate bankrupted by his half-brother. Now he owes an enormous debt to a loanshark, and marrying the loanshark's daughter Odessa is the only way the debt will be forgiven. Odessa does not want to marry a suitor of her father's choosing and has gone to great lengths to keep these men at bay. What she doesn't count on is that Jordan is far more clever than the others ever were, and what more, there's a very convenient attraction between them...

My review:

I am a recent Kathleen Ayers fan, so it was interesting to see how this book measured up to others I've read recently. I would say the chemistry and romance aspect of the novel was pretty solid, but there wasn't as much of a plot in comparison. I could be wrong but at a little less than 200 pages, it felt shorter than her other books. The plot can be summed up by Jordan adamantly continuing to court Odessa in order to save his siblings and erase the debt, while Odessa puts on a fat suit and blackens her teeth and eats onions (so many onions) to make herself as unappealing as possible. It's funny for a while until it isn't quite as much.

Jordan is an excellent example of a more jaded, world-weary hero who's not above fighting dirty when needed. The best way to describe Odessa is that in the modern era, she would deffo be a true crime girlie and possibly an occultist. She's probably one of those heroines some readers would find "annoying" but I liked her. You can't help but be sympathetic to a woman who's basically her father's pawn, despite how much she asserts herself or tries to outmaneuver him. I'd say the main draw of this book is the chemistry between Jordan and Odessa which is present from the very beginning despite Odessa's best efforts to make herself as unappealing as possible. It's a large part of what made the book work. Speaking of chemistry—

The sex:

Well done, and despite the length of the book, there were a few solid scenes. Here's what worked for me:

a) Odessa is a Knowing Virgin (thanks Aunt Lottie). Also a Ready Virgin because as Jordan comments she has a... "natural sensuality"? I think is what he said. But basically, she knows what's up and I loved that.

b) This deserves a note of its own: She has a hand fetish (hot) which Jordan quickly clocks and uses on her

c) There is some light choking during their first (proper) kiss. Also, they 100% would have gone all the way in the middle of that party if they wanted which, again, Jordan notes

d) This may be a bit of a spoiler but people in historical romances do..... Stuff in the place they had sex for the first time, but they don't often go all the way (especially because she was a virgin), so I was pleasantly surprised when they did, but also, it tracks for them as a couple.

Overall:

I would recommend it to anyone looking for a quick, light historical romance that doesn't skimp on the sex. It's also worth noting the book set up Jordan's siblings (the other "Sins" in this series): There's the sister who races horses against men who're partially there to see her in trousers, the brother who's probably a gigolo, another brother who's probably a spy, and their baby sister who's so sweet she deserves a dastardly hero of her own. I'm looking forward to reading all their books.

Thank you to Dragonblade Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for my review.

[stromuprisahat]

First of all, let's get personal insults out of the way:

There's so much wrong with this post I cant even- How old are you? This is so fucking stupid - oh my god- okay...ill try to explain as best as I can.

How old am I? Likely older than you, if I know better than to make a whole new blog just to reblog a post I disagree with instead of blocking said user and going on.

Stories like the ones set in Grishaverse are going to have violence and tragedy and deaths in them, and not all is as black and white as your childbrain might convince you to believe.Ravka is a dying nation. Its people are dying. Grisha are dying. And the power to change anything in this hypothetical world lies with the evil forces.

So what you're saying is "If the world around you is bad enough, nothing matters, so you can kill and kidnap people for selfish reasons however you please."? "Grisha are dying, what's one more?"?! You throw around phrases like "black and white", yet you're insinuating cruel world excuses causing more cruelty.

The second army? Run by the darkling- the literal villain of the story. The closer a grisha was to the darkling , the more morally corrupt they were - Ivan is a shining example of that. (Now think about what Pavel and Polina's closeness to the darkling meant for their characters) .

I beg you pardon- what?!

This explains your whole reply, really. The narrative says a thing, so you assume it's correct and adjust (lack of) information to such view.

The Darkling is the villain, because he wears black and doesn't mind getting his hands dirty, when fighting for his country.

Ivan is morally corrupt, because he has about ten minutes of sceentime in total, in which he managed to act like one of few believable soldiers.

The two people your fav murdered had to be bad too, because all we've seen of them was:

a.) They enjoy skillful use of their powers and its appreciation.

b.) They tried to protect their home from a group of invaders.

The two grisha Inej killed worked for the Darkling, they were not working towards making a better world for others.

Let me introduce to a concept- the horror of people with malevolent intentions forcing their way into your home. It's a whole subgenre of horror, to be honest, called home invasion. I wonder why...

So no, they don't need to "work towards making a better world for others" for me to root for them, because I possess enough empathy to know I'd try to get uninvited strangers from my home too. Yes, even through violent means.

And yes inej being from a minority group doesn't give her a right to kill people- and she's never acted like it did. She didn't take pleasure in killing them, she didn't choose that path for herself, she didn't do it as a way to take revenge for the racial oppression her and her people have suffered. She did it because she needed to, because she needed to save Kaz's life, because she had a purpose to fulfill.

a.) You're kinda missing her race was used as an excuse for her actions in the original ask. Perhaps start reading from the beginning?!

b.) But she DID choose her path in the show. She chose to accompany Kaz on his trip to kidnap a girl from guarded place. Guarded BECAUSE people living there tend to be hunted, sold, murdered etc., KIDNAP a girl for people whose further intentions were unknown.

On that note about racism, your argument "oh wEll PeOpLe sAy rAcIst sHiT aLL tHe TiMe tO tHrOw SoMeONe oFF bALanCe dUrINg a fiGhT. I aM sUrE ShE DiDn't tRuLy tHInK liKe tHaT..." what if I told you she did? In the "suli trash" scene the Grisha guard was very obviously not saying stuff while thinking strategically.

You're right, possibly genuinely meant insult totally excuses murder! I'm only surprised others won't let me kill rude people irl!

Also she was already stabbed by that point - she wasn't going to fight. She was hurt and angry and saying what she believed.

Now you've refuted every post-argument apology ever, because people NEVER say in anger things they don't believe.

Plus Canonically most grisha and even most ravkans are racist towards suli people. That doesn't mean they deserve to straight up die for it, Grishas in particular are so indoctrinated due to living in the palace their entire lives their racism can even be explained away to some extent. But did Inej kill them for being racist? No. We've already estabalished that.

You got it wrong- "Most Ravkans and even some of the teenage Grisha we've been introduced are racist towards Suli people". Alina among them, because she never forgets to mention different looks of Suli, Zemeni, Shu... and parodies them with Mal, which is portrayed as amusing...

She was a Suli girl named Paja whom I’d never met before. She had dark hair and nearly black eyes, and the red embroidery at the cuffs of her purple kefta indicated that she was one of the Alkemi, Fabrikators who specialized in chemicals like blasting powders and poisons.

Siege and Storm- Chapter 15

He waved me over. I gritted my teeth and bent over the cup. “Is it bad?” the girl moaned. “Eeet eeees … goooood,” said Mal in the most outrageous Suli accent I’d ever heard. The girl sighed in relief. “You weeel meet a handsome stranger.” The girls giggled and clapped their hands. I couldn’t resist. “He weeel be very wicked man,” I interjected. My accent was even worse than Mal’s. If any real Suli overheard me, I’d probably end up with a black eye. “You must run from theees man.”

Siege and Storm- Chapter 18

The Darkling- as you correctly mentioned the leader of Second Army- doesn't seem to care about nationalities as long as you're not trying to murder him or his people.

Ulla felt the hurt inside her winnow to a hard point. “And did your witch mother care at all for the child she abandoned to the sea?” But the apprentice did not look troubled by her harsh words. “She isn’t one for sentiment.” “Where is she?” Ulla asked. A mother should be here to greet her daughter, to explain herself, to make amends. “Far to the south, traveling with the Suli. I’ll meet with her before the weather turns. Come with me. Ask her your questions, if you think the answers will bring you comfort.”

The Language of Throns- When Water Sang Fire

The envoy sputtered, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. The Darkling turned to the ambassadors. “I think you understand me now. There are no Ravkans, no Fjerdans, no Kerch, no Shu Han. There are no more borders, and there will be no more wars. From now on, there is only the land inside the Fold and outside of it, and there will be peace.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 22

There's absolutely zero proof Grisha were lead to be racist towards anyone, quite contrary- they're supposed to be inclusive.

I shifted uncomfortably. “Well … our teachers told us that you strengthened the Second Army by gathering Grisha from outside of Ravka.” “I didn’t have to gather them. They came to me. Other countries don’t treat their Grisha so well as Ravka,” he said grimly. “The Fjerdans burn us as witches, and the Kerch sell us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up seeking the source of our power. What else?”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 5

But hey- feel free to PROVIDE DIRECT QUOTE, that says the Darkling taught his Grisha to be racist towards Suli. It should be easy, since some lived in Little Palace and I don't think they'd be spared.

Inej didn't go there to kill. Yes she went there to kidnap the sun summoner but she's not "another member of said minority". She's not some normal Grisha?? She's the sun summoner and it comes with its dangers from every direction possible. In fact the guy she's working for is the worst and most dangerous out of the countless there are in the series?

It doesn't matter Alina isn't "some normal Grisha". She might be unique, but she's still Grisha. She's in same dangers as any other, only worsened by her strategic importance, or do you believe Shu knife wouldn't cut her? That some fat Kerch merchant wouldn't like to purchase her?!

Also you phrased it like it was Inej's masterplan to kidnap Alina and sell her into slavery and she was ready to kill whatever came in her path? another commentator wrote that Inej had "no qualms about kidnapping a young women and selling her to a sketchy man with unknown motives". Y'all either didn't watch the same show as me or are just plain moronic with an inability to take context clues.

Because it's true?!

Inej didn't know anything about intentions of the people that hired them. She knew nothing about Alina's intended (or perhaps indentured) future!

As for intention to kill- she's breaking into military base (among others)- the seat of Second ARMY- are you truly ignorant enough to say she shouldn't expect some resistance?! And they specifically plan their attack for Winter Fete- an event with Royal Family present! When the highest security measures are to be expected?!

What did you say about ~context~?!

1.Inej was apprehensive about kidnapping the supposed sun summoner, partially due to her own traumatic past, partially due to her reverence for saints and partially because she's the kindest character of the series. She didn't voice it out because of her loyalty to Kaz.

In short- you've headcanoned it.

2. There is contextual evidence to suggest she wouldn't have taken such a drastic step as to kill the inferni if Kaz's life wasn't threatened. We were literally shown her turmoil after she killed him in order to save Kaz and it was evident she was heartbroken for the man.

Ohmygod, you've made it SO much better!

The robber was heartbroken about killing the inhabitant of the house he broke into! But the other person had a knife in their hand after hearing noise in middle of the night!

3. Unrelated but if you'd have focused on the dialog in the first episode, the motives of the sketchy man in aquiring the sun summoner would be clear to you.

I admit I might've missed that, so feel free to share with the rest of the class- what's such a relevation, that it changes anything about all of the above?! That Inej could rest asured her kidnap victim won't serve as extra expensive set of holes for rich people's pleasure?!

4. "Helped to get in another guy- who was there just to kill its inhabitants." I now understand that you intentionally misphrase information for hyperbole purposes. Small change but the guy was not their to kill its inhabitants- the grisha- he was there to kill the sun summoner- technically inhabitant(s)

And Arken proved to be such an honorable man, he didn't try to kill Genya after she found him murdering "Sun Summoner". Nah, he sat back with "My work here is done! Arrest me, officer!".

Even without that- you're right- killing one person doesn't matter.

and actually just a tool for the darkling to use eventually.

Assuming that's correct (which it isn't)- are you telling me killing people's alright as long as others have nefarious intentions with them?! Why not wipe everyone out then?!

Not to mention Zlatan didn't want to kill Alina, because he knew about Aleksander's plans to attack him- you're interchanging cause and result- Zlatan wanted Alina dead, so East cannot be reconnected with West, and he's in better position for separation.

Reconnection, that would mean- among other things- likely losing influence in resulting larger territory.

Either way that was a bad guy but did Inej know that? Did she? Even Kaz Brekker didn't know his intentions until the middle of their journey. Why paint it out to be like Inej knew the man was dangerous and still got him into the Little Palace.

She didn't know him. She got a person she didn't know into heavily guarded place. Why would he want there? Because they've asked him nicely?! Even if he just stole cutlery "She didn't know he wants to do it." isn't an excuse.

5. Irrelevant to this particular argument but -"Member of distrusted group..." why say distrusted. Why not say oppressed?

I haven't re-read SoC yet, so again- feel free to provide quotes-, but I don't remember Suli being actively hunted. Sure, there's animosity and disrespect, but no pyres. Unlike you, I put threats to one's life above slurs, when it comes to rating possible danger.

Distrusted groups of people can still have some form of power in society. Like Grisha do. The suli have none. Oppressed or ostracised would be much terms to describe them don't you think?

Ostracized- why not, but claiming Grisha- unlike Suli- have power?!

Grisha are literally serfs- the Crown's slaves in colourful coats. On the other hand it doesn't seem the King particularly cares about Suli. Sure, it won't protect them from occasional pitchforks or stones, but neither would the King (See: #anti Grisha sentiments, especially from second book).

What's the power you're talking about? That once upon a time, one of the rulers allowed them to build a pretty stable for themselves on his backyard (to better keep an eye on)? That the moment they're discovered, they no longer belong to themselves (if they ever did)? That they're free to serve and die? That the (physically) most powerful of them can bow and bend his knee, scrape and crawl, so he's allowed to offer them creature comforts and more safety than anywhere else, even though it means said life-long service however long that is?

Some power!

6. As mentioned above Pavel's murder was a difficult choice Inej had to make - within a fraction of a second- and one she struggled with afterwords, probably scarring her for life. But with Polina she was again not taking revenge for being called a racial slur, she was just trying to survive. That scene was not written that way to excuse Inej killing Polina by letting her be racist. The show tried to portray the general attitude of Ravkans towards sulis with that scene.

A difficult choice Inej had to make due to her own well-thought out transgression. As written above- you still want me to feel bad for a thief, who "had to" become murderer, because the offended side didn't hide and let them take whatever she pleases.

If the show wanted to "portray general attitude of Ravkans towards Sulis", it chose a wrong moment to do so. Your beloved context applies here- Polina wasn't just some Ravkan, she's the woman, whose closest relative got murdered for the crime of protecting their home. You can't just scratch that, because it doesn't fit your agenda.

Polina was grieving her brother, sure, but there was an underlying attitude that just an inferior subhuman suli way beneath them harmed them.

And you've figured that out HOW?! Because her scenes before that were their presentation and the twins going after the intruders. If there's some super secret additional cut material, feel free to link it. I'd love to see more of the ordinary Grisha!

Inej was even going to spare her until the bitch showed her superiority complex and threatened everyone Inej loved.

Which is totally NOT something you'd expect from a person, whose (perhaps even only) family you've murdered a few hours earlier...

Hell, I'm not a fire-wizard, and I'd promise to kill you and "everyone you love", if you'd murdered my brother, and it wouldn't even have to be in our house.

Inej, as a teenager who's just trying to survive in a world which has been beyond cruel to her and does not want more enemies- takes her knife back with tears in her eyes.

That absolutely absolved her of any blame.

And I won't even bother with her age, that's been pushed up in the show...

You can cry for a character, without trying to do ~that~.

(While most Otkazat'sya would just move on thinking they just killed a witch that was trying to kill them- general attitude of Ravkans towards Grisha- remember?)

You're right!

Murder WITHOUT racism isn't nearly as bad! It's not like the person's dead anyway...

She should get an award.

Here:

There was discourse somewhere that Inej only valued Alina after perceiving her as a saint. Maybe. But Chauvinist Trash? Really? Even in the show Inej is shown to have more empathy than others. She is obviously drastically watered down in her complexity and empathy - but chauvinist trash? Religious fanatic?

There was discourse somewhere that Inej only valued Alina after perceiving her as a saint. Maybe. ... Religious fanatic? You're not even reading, what you've written. Either you don't have an opinion, or you're doubting mine.

As for the chauvinism part- again, you might have troubles with reading comprehension, because my text said:

It doesn't make her automatically right and unable to be chauvinist trash herself?!

To simplify- being a possible target of one kind of hatred doesn't make you immune to being unreasonably hateful towards other groups. To make it even more explicit- I wasn't speaking about Inej specifically, but people in general.

I want you to go and rewatch the scene of Inej killing Polina and her face afterwords. And contemplate whether you hate show Inej so much (while worshipping book Inej) because of her actions (because it is clearly written in the books Inej has killed others before for her survival) or because you don't like that book Inej was given a face not of your choice, even if it is canonically correct.

Sure, book!Inej killed people, but she didn't kidnap them for a third party, or break into rightfully guarded places, then expect our pity, when she killed its inhabitants.

I have no idea, what you mean by that "face not of your choice" part, truly. I was talking about her action and general principles above.

I'd be happy for some book!Inej fans to add details, as long as they can read and comprehend the topic.

Lol why tf u mad that Inej “murdered two people of an oppressed minority” (lol) when she’s Suli and it’s said explicitly that Suli have been treated like trash by Ravka, she has no loyalty to that swamp

Eh, because she literally broke into their home- the only safe place they were supposed to have- with specific intention to kidnap and sell into slavery another member of said minority and helped to get in another guy, who was there just to kill its inhabitants?!

The fact she's Suli doesn't give her a pass on murder of other minorities? Or another forms of violence against other opressed groups? It doesn't make her automatically right and unable to be chauvinist trash herself?! Because treatment of Suli in Ravka doesn't say anything about Grisha?! Because another of so called heroes is both Suli AND Grisha and no one seems to mind, so even if your point about Ravka was valid in some way, it hardly applies to Little Palace?!

Because wrongs done by a third party doesn't excuse your agression against others or even entitle you to it?!

Bacause being member of distrusted group doesn't give you any right to break into other people's houses with violent intentions- people, who's done exactly NOTHING to you?!

[sirendeepity]

[ Nessian Week, day 7: Free Day ]

A/N: Did this one-shot sit half done in my drafts for, like, months? Yes. Did I also wait another month specifically for this day to come before publishing it? Also yes. Is there also a second version where everything takes a Feyre-like dramatic twist, but this time the C-section happens because Gwyn and Emerie don't take no shit from anybody? Who knows 👀

Some domestic fluff and a bit of random angst thrown in there, because where would be the fun otherwise? Hope you enjoy <3

@nessianweekk

W/C: 2.9k

T/W: --

Nesta had made a lot of plans throughout her life.

When she was little, she had planned—well, her mother had done all the planning, but that’s just a tiny detail—to marry a wealthy man and elevate her family’s social position, confident that that would, finally, make her mother proud. Little did Nesta know that just a few years later she would find herself without both money and mother. That led to her second plan: Tomas Mandray. The bastard. She was fully aware of what was going on inside his household—what was probably going to happen to her, too—but if marrying the boy meant one mouth less for her sister to feed, then so be it. Trading one misery for another wouldn’t have changed much for Nesta, anyway.

Her third and biggest plan almost worked—and thank the Mother it actually didn’t. Still, Nesta wouldn’t change anything about it. The war against Hybern forced her to open her eyes and come to terms with her feeling for a certain cocky male. Nesta couldn’t ignore them anymore, not when the risk of losing him at any moment had dug its claws so deep into her heart she was afraid she’ll never be free from the bone-shattering grip. Decades had passed since then, yet Nesta still woke up in the middle of the night, cold sweat drenching her nightclothes and the cruel hands of terror pinning her body to the mattress. Her eyes were open but the memory hadn’t stopped—the voices overlapping in her head. One was made of warmth and comfort, hot breath against her neck and a heavy arm pulling her closer and closer; the other was pain and sputtered blood, pleading her to go, run, save herself. She couldn’t, so she stayed. It had offered her a promise, one that Nesta found herself almost relieved to hear, knowing it would be fulfilled soon. She closed her eyes, now as she did back then, waiting for the fatal blow. It never came.

To her mate’s more than probable disappointment, being stuck in Illyria was not one of those plans. Not by a long shot. She’d grown to enjoy the place—the mountains and its inhabitants—but the breathtaking landscape was not the reason why she’d come here in the first place. She just needed to have a nice chat with a group of elderly Illyrian females and then they could fly back to Velaris. That was until Cassian vanished somewhere with Balthazar, never to be seen again.

“It won’t take much, he said,” mimicked Nesta, throwing yet another pillow on the sofa. “Just wait for me at the house if you finish first, he said. Forty godsdamned minutes ago.”

She punched and squished her tiny nestle of pillows and blankets until she felt comfortable enough against it, then reached for the book she left on the coffee table. A book that had vanished just like her mate, apparently.

Because you did leave it there, right? She questioned herself, digging through her memory and finding nothing of use. She wasn’t surprised, her brain has stopped working properly 7 months ago, give or take. Nesta leaned forward as much as she could without tripping over to see if it may have fallen on the floor, then swept her eyes around the room, hoping for a little yellow square to catch her eyes. And it did catch her eyes, on the kitchen table. Nesta cursed inwardly, rolling her eyes as she readjusted herself and looked down at her own sprawled body. The next time someone told her what a wonderful, beautiful thing being pregnant was, she’d choose violence.

“There goes my comfy spot,” Nesta muttered under her breath as she gripped any available surface to push herself and her 41 weeks rounder-than-ever belly up the sofa, trying her very best not to pull any muscles in the process.

She was halfway back to the living room when the front door opened, showing a 6’4 feet tall male standing in her doorway, wet as a puppy, drip-dropping on the floor.

“Hi, Nes,” he said, and she felt the sudden urge to punch him. Or kiss him. Or maybe both. “It’s storming outside, so we’ll have to wait until it’s over before I can fly us back to Velaris,” Cassian went on, kicking his muddy boots aside and taking off as many clothes as he could before stepping into the house itself. He let his gaze run over her, from the hand pinned on her back to give her belly additional support, to the black, oversized shirt she had on—clearly not one of hers because Gods forbid she could find at least one that fit her new demanding body—, to the yellow tome tucked under an arm. He even had the audacity to smirk at her I’ll cut your balls off and use them as earrings look—one of the newest addition to her collection—before saying, “Nice outfit.”

Nesta only inclined her head, contemplating how much time it would take her to wabble her way to him. Too much, she realized. It would be faster if she threw the book from where she was standing. Cassian sighed, clearing the space between them with a few strides. “How is the love of my life?”

“Yet to be decided,” Nesta replied, tilting her head up so she wouldn’t answer his chest.

“I was talking to the baby.”

Cassian sank to his knees in front of her, flashing her a lazy grin as he gently stroked her thighs before raising the hem of the shirt. Her pale skin, still a little shiny from the lavender oil she applied earlier, courtesy of Emerie’s exceptional taste, was a stark contrast to the deeply tanned pair of huge hands now covering the curve of her belly almost entirely. This time Nesta did smack him on the head with the book, earning herself a rumbled laugh and a pinched ass.

“You don’t really hate me right now, do you?” He asked between a kiss and the next, his damp hair leaving a wet trail on her stretched skin.

She didn’t answer, her heart too weak to form a coherent sentence, and when he stopped his greetings to the baby and looked up at her, she looked away a beat too late, feeling his lips curve into a smile.

“Come on, Nes. I’m sorry I haven’t predicted the rain. I told you summer storms in Illyria come when you’re least expecting them.”

He had told her that, many times, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be pissed about it anyway. The baby was a week late and they took a great risk by flying all the way there to meet the elders, and the last thing she wanted was to give birth in these conditions, without her family to hold her together while she regretted all her life choices. Nesta pushed the book against Cassian’s forehead, putting some space between her belly and his face, and spun on her heels, heading for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Cassian called after her.

“To draw you a bath before you catch a cold.”

“I’ll catch it anyway if I have to wait for you to climb up the stairs,” he said, moving behind her.

Nesta turned with her finger already pointed toward its target when Cassian lifted her up.

“Gods, you stink.”

“You’re welcome.”

Fifteen minutes later, Nesta was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, admiring her oh-so-gorgeous mate stripping naked in front of her. She was so glad at least one of them got to keep the muscles, and that the one was him. She dipped her eyes as soon as Cassian turned his back to her. How long would it take her to get back up if she knelt and took a bite of that incredible ass—

“Do you plan on taking that shirt off or do I have to do it for you?”

“If I get into that bath none of us will get out anytime soon,” Nesta replied, not meeting his eyes once even as he faced her again. Did she make a mistake or were there two more muscles on his torso?

He took a few steps in her direction, forcing her to raise her gaze. “Good,” he said, pressing his lips against the pointy shell of her ear, “because we have a lot of time on our hands before the storm ends.”

Said hands were now resting on either side of her belly, roaming south toward the rim of the shirt. Nesta closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, reveling in the constant warmth of Cassian’s body against her own, the roughness of his palms.

Right there and then, she decided she would give up and give in, lifting her arms so Cassian could peel the shirt right off of her, and bared her neck to him.

Right there and then, their baby decided not to be as enthusiastic about what was going to happen as they were, and started kicking. Hard. Nesta hissed in pain, gripping Cassian’s shoulders for support. Cassian, coming back to his senses, stroked Nesta’s back and placed his other hand on the belly-turned-punching bag, taking care of both the mother and the daughter at once.

“I can’t believe she’s not even out and she already has a favorite,” said Nesta through clenched teeth. Cassian laughed lightly, leading Nesta toward the still fuming bathtub, filled with bubbles almost to the brim. It took them a few tries to climb in and find the right position, but not much after they were both comfortably laying back-to-chest, hands rubbing soft skin.

“She’s taking her sweet time,” Cassian said after a couple of minutes of silence, “yet we’re still stuck.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t have a name. What do we call her?”

Nesta, who was tracing soapy lines on the back of his hand and down his forearm, following scars and veins, stopped short in her tracks. “We’ll find something, eventually.”

He kissed her bare shoulder, muffling his chuckles against her skin, “I can’t wait for her to be here.”

With that, Nesta’s thoughts took off. “Yeah, me too.”

“Not so much enthusiasm, it’s only our firstborn child.” Cassian’s chest shook against her back as the tip of his nose stroked her fluttering pulse. His hand stilled, leaving her belly skin tingling, and Nesta shut her eyes closed, waiting. He knew something was wrong.

“What is it, Nes,” he said ever so gently, his mouth now brushing her ear.

“It’s nothing, really.” She knew she was being paranoid, and most—if not all—future mothers felt the same way she did, at some point or another, but that knowledge didn’t stop her troubles to pool at the base of her spine, crawling up her back.

“Whatever is going on in your head, I want to know. I don’t care if you think it’s stupid or pointless. I want to know, all of it.” His tone didn’t falter once, didn’t even turn angrier, demanding. “Please.”

Nesta exhaled slowly, tipping her head back to rest it on Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian had never marched into her head and heart, taking control of her life. He’d waited patiently to be granted access, slipping past all her defenses almost unnoticed and taking root in the darkest part of her. Not pushing, not pulling: just waiting—for her to open up, for the light to find its way in, for the cracks to stitch back together, the scars to heal. The qualities she needed and loved most, all inside one huge bat. Patience, loyalty, unconditional love.

“What if I can’t do this?” Nesta stumbled on the words stuck in her throat, choking her. Tears swelled her eyes as she struggled to blurt out the rest, no matter how many times she tried to swallow down the lump. “What if I can’t be a good mother?”

She took it all back: the damn had broken, there was no stopping her now.

“It’s not like I ever had these great parental figures to look up to, and we all know I took after my mother more than I should have,” a laugh escaped her lips, tasting sour. For all her life, Nesta has feared the day she would truly become her mother’s daughter. It was her mother’s face she saw when she looked in the mirror; her mother’s voice she heard when she snapped and spit venom at anyone who got too close; her mother’s creature she became when her mind wandered a little too far back, whenever she read other people’s body language as easily as she would a book, and asked herself how easy would it be to take and take and take and leave only ashes in her way. Sometimes Nesta became her, so much so that she felt sick to her stomach. All these years, all this pain and anger and regret, and she still couldn’t let her go. “I don’t want to be like her, I don’t want our baby to—”

“Hey, stop. Stop.” Cassian’s hands tightened around her, anchoring her as she found her way through her too-loud thoughts, every word more grounding than the one before. “You’re not like your mother.”

A hand flew to her face, mixing salt and soap. “How would you know? You haven’t even met her.” Thankfully.

“You’re not your mother and you’ll never be because you care.” The words caught Nesta so off guard that, for a moment, everything went quiet. Nothing but the sound of water dripping and heart beating filled the room. “You care so much about this baby, Nesta. You’ve cared about her from the moment we’ve learned about her existence. When she wasn’t even a she yet.”

Two fingers pinched her chin, forcing her head to the side. Beautiful hazel eyes were waiting for her own, burning and melting all at once. She’s never been able to hide from his gaze, never been able to cover the ugliest truths from him. Nesta kinda hated how she loved it. It made everything much easier to overcome: knowing you won’t ever have to search for words you couldn’t find to explain what you couldn’t name. He’d always seen it—seen her.

Cassian’s voice soothed her nerves like a balm. “You already love her more than your mother ever did. I know that for a fact because I’ve been by your side every step of the way—and this isn’t just about the pregnancy.”

Nesta couldn’t help the little laugh that bubbled up, thinking back to how it started: the pain, the House, the Valkyries.

Look, how far you’ve come.

Nesta learned to live with this presence in her life. The timeless voice of the Mother making its way through her mind, the faint touch of her embrace, the feeble whisper of a presence following her every move.

She turned her head, catching the first rays of the sun shyly cutting through the curtain of clouds. Nesta couldn’t tell when it stopped raining. She was now able to go home, just as she’d wanted to. She should feel relieved, and yet she wasn’t—not completely, at least, because going home meant popping the bubble, and this bubble wasn’t that bad, after all. So Nesta kept quiet, reveling in Cassian’s hands roaming all over her body, Cassian’s lips tasting her skin, Cassian’s scent filling her lungs, Cassian’s love tending her frail and wounded heart. Anything, if done by Cassian, tended to have a whole different outcome. Content with just his reassuring presence, Nesta glanced out the window once again, mesmerized by how the light played with the mist rising from the forest blanketing a nearby mountain, curling around trees like it got stuck in their branches.

“Our kids will never know a day without their parents’ love growing up,” she said, breaking the silence.

Cassian agreed without missing a beat. “There will always be light. Only light.”

“Nora,” Nesta said, tasting the sound on her tongue.

“What?”

A small smile played on Nesta’s lips as she repeated, “Nora. Light. That should be the name for the baby.”

“Since when did you know Illyrian?” He sounded more surprised than upset, given his many attempts at teaching her the dialect.

“I do live with two outgrown bats, you know,” she shrugged it off, feigning indifference. Her heart, on the other hand, was in need of praise—it started in the bedroom, but it took control of every aspect of her life. Just a few words from Cassian, and she felt weak in the knees but beaming with pride at the same time.

The rumble of his deep laugh rolled straight to the tip of her toes. “So Emerie has nothing to do with it?”

“Who knows.”

She had struggled so much during their lessons that they became very few and far in between, with Cassian having to prioritize his actual duties as General Commander rather than a “personal hobby”, leading to the meetings stopping altogether. But it was his mother tongue and the Illyrians, no matter how Illyrian they might be, were still his people. For centuries he’d been the only one fighting for the cause, and for even more centuries he will keep fighting no matter the odds.

Cassian had been the only one left standing one too many times—his beliefs hard to kill, his hope harder still. Nesta thought he might like some company.

[ohnominamino]

An Essay on Love in Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time

Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time is a movie about love in all its forms. From the love of family, friends, and neighbors, to the compassion we feel for people we have never met. The movie reminds us that love is something we continuously gain, lose, and choose, again and again. Which love is greatest? In my opinion, the answer to that question is left up to interpretation. In this essay, I will give my own personal interpretation on certain character interactions and what I believe we are meant to take away from their Rebuild portrayals. 

The character I will start with is one I’ve noticed the most outrage over from people who haven’t seen the movie and read out-of-context spoilers: Kaworu Nagisa. 

Kaworu is a beloved character among many Evangelion fans, especially those who are members of the LGBT+ community. He is a canonical love interest of Shinji Ikari and I want to reassure people that this final movie does not change that fact. However, it does not make the couple blatantly endgame either. This skirting around the couple might make some fans upset, and while their feelings are completely valid, I do not think they fully understand the difficulties faced by LGBT+ people in Japan, nor do they understand the way that romance is typically conveyed in Japanese storytelling. (I recommend watching “Is ‘Yuri On Ice’ Good Gay Representation?” by James Somerton for more about storytelling nuances.) 

What have we been shown about Shinji and Kaworu’s love? The good news is, anything you read into the original TV series and End of Evangelion is completely true for the Rebuilds— because Kaworu is the same Kaworu. This movie proves Evangelion is a single universe set on repeat, and that Kaworu and Shinji meet each other every loop, and in each, Kaworu is trying to make Shinji happy. Within the final movie, Shinji becomes aware of the loops and chooses to break the cycle and free Kaworu from his pain. 

What does the relationship between Shinji and Kaworu teach us? I believe the purpose of their love is to show the audience that first, in the words of Kaji, “love has no gender.” Second, I believe Kaworu’s love in particular is a warning about basing your own happiness solely upon another person. There are parallels drawn between Gendo/Yui and Kaworu/Shinji. Gendo could not exist without Yui, and so he was willing to destroy the world to be reunited with her. For Kaworu, it was not the destruction of humanity, but the destruction of himself that defined his tragedy. What’s important within the final movie, in my opinion, is that Shinji does not reject Kaworu’s love. With the insight he’s gained from remembering past loops, he sees Kaworu’s love and appreciates him, but he also sees his suffering and wants to ease it. He helps Kaworu into a new world where he can seek his own happiness and find balance in his life (something his father did not have). 

While Kaworu and Shinji are not seen as an explicit couple at the end of the movie, it’s significant to note that, when he sets Kaworu free, Shinji holds out his hand to Kaworu as a promise to stay together. Over the course of the movie, Shinji comes to accept his connection to others through accepting touch (in the form of hand holding and hugs from Rei, Misato, and Gendo); however, Kaworu is the only character in the movie who Shinji initiates physical contact with and that speaks to how much Kaworu means to him. This simple gesture, in my opinion, keeps the door open for Kaworu and Shinji to be a couple one day, after Kaworu has found more balance in his life. 

If I were to write an entire essay about Kaworu, it would be titled, “Out of the Coffin: How the Resurrection of Kaworu Nagisa Buries the Tragic Lovers Trope” because this movie truly does just that. 

Another potential love interest for Shinji for many years was Asuka; however, unlike with Kaworu, the nature of this relationship is not left up to interpretation by the end of the movie. Before her big final battle, Asuka tells Shinji, “I think I loved you back then” (regarding their time in middle school) and Shinji, during Instrumentality, tells Asuka, “Thank you for saying you loved me. I loved you too.” It is past tense. 

What does this relationship teach us? It’s a beautiful way of showing that we can love people, and grow and learn, and let go when we no longer fit each other. Letting go is an integral part of life. Whereas other Instrumentality scenes involve touch, Asuka’s, mirroring the ending of End of Evangelion, has a distinct lack of touch. Shinji sits with his arms around his knees and Asuka turns her body away from him. He gives her his thanks and he sends her off to find her peace. Asuka and Shinji teach us that it’s okay to grow out of relationships. You can appreciate what they were to you at the time they happened and move on. 

What about Rei? To be honest with you, this movie is less about Rei’s relationship with Shinji, and more about her relationship with the world. Rei teaches movie viewers about the simple pleasures of living. While Shinji is in mourning for the first quarter of the movie, Rei (as “Sokkuri”) is learning about crop growing and community, the wonder of babies and kittens, the joy of the bath after a long day of fruitful work, and the power of words and picture books. At the end of her life, she only regrets not having more time to spend with the people she loves. In Instrumentality, Shinji accepts her hand when it is offered to him, which I hope signifies he is ready to see life as she had come to during the final movie. 

Rei teaches us that we can love living and to not take our limited time for granted. 

Next, we move on to parent figures: Gendo and Misato. I think they both represent people ill suited to the role, who do the best they can despite it. Gendo, as mentioned for Kaworu above, is a warning about defining yourself by your relationship to another person (Ikari, afterall, is Yui’s name). He is also a lesson in how people mourn and how they can lash out. Misato, like Gendo, felt herself a poor parent, and while mourning the loss of Kaji, she gave up her child to be raised by other people, but, unlike Gendo, went forward to put all her energy into protecting humanity. Both of them reach out to hug Shinji within the movie and he accepts them where they are. 

While I wouldn’t say the movie shows that Shinji forgives Gendo, it does show his making an effort to understand and make peace with what others have done. For Misato, it is fair to say we can still hope for a better future, even when it feels like everything is crumbling around us. Her self-sacrificing love for her son and the whole of humanity is what enables Shinji to then save the people he loves (via the spear of Gaius). 

In the movie, we are also shown friendship. Touji, Hikari, and Kensuke are important members of their community who maintain open communication with those around them and respect others’ boundaries. They are patient and kind and represent the importance of being present. They teach us to meet people where they are and support them how we can, whether it’s giving them a warm meal or giving them space when they need it. 

There are many more characters that could be talked about, but today I am going to end on Mari. Mari’s love is physical. She enjoys being in people’s personal bubbles. She cuddles Asuka and helps trim her hair, she gets into Gendo’s space at college, and at the end of the movie, she reaches out her hand to Shinji to help him stand up from his seat. Upon first glance, some viewers might take Mari and Shinji’s final scene to be romantic, but the reality of it is this: We do not, and cannot, know what kind of love she is meant to represent in his life.

We do not know Mari’s relationship with Shinji because they hardly interact in the movie. She clearly cares about him, but in my opinion, it comes from a place of duty and compassion— Mari was friends with Gendo and Yui. She has been there since he was born. (If we take the manga to be canon, then Mari even had romantic feelings towards his mother. Her hairstyle and glasses are from Yui. At the end of the movie, Mari has changed her hairstyle, which to me implies she has moved on, and “getting” with Shinji would be a thematic break.)

Additionally, their conversation, while flirty, is very much one that implies they haven’t seen each other for a while. Mari is someone who is very physically affectionate. With everyone. If someone ignores that and focuses on the fact she gets into Shinji’s space and claims that’s romantic, they better acknowledge it’s possibly romantic with Asuka, who we see far more intimacy with. When Mari flirts, Shinji flirts back and her initial reaction is surprise, “Wow, you’ve learned to talk back!” Her purpose is clear. She is there to remove the DSS choker from his neck. 

Personally, I love that Mari is the one to close the movie, for the exact reason that we do not know her relationship with Shinji. For Mari to have an assigned role would be to say, “This kind of love is most important,” when the entire movie was spent showing us each love is of equal importance in the balance and building of our lives. (It’s wonderful to see those types of love embodied across the platform from Shinji at the end of the movie: Rei and Kaworu, who, just like in End of Evangelion, could signify the ability to connect with others and be loved.)

If you view Mari as a romantic love interest, then I think it speaks to the value that you as an individual give to romance rather than what the characters themselves are feeling. To me, Mari, the character who was created to “destroy Eva,” is a symbol of all love. When Shinji takes her offered hand and then pulls her to run into the new world, it’s a symbol of balance. The give and take of any kind of relationship. 

We are the product of every relationship we have ever had, from our parents to the people we once loved, from our friendships to any other person we want to stay connected to. Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time is a story about these relationships. It is a story about love. 

[wondernimbus]

everything you didn’t say — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: reader has secrets of her own. a party at the malfoy manor reveals them.

a/n: i had to rewrite this bc im dumb n my first draft didn't save which was Very upsetting but anyways i hope you like it :'') 

“Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Draco’s eyes snap up in the mirror.

[Y/N] is standing in his doorway, having somehow opened the door without him noticing. She has one shoulder leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised. There is a glint in her eye that Draco knows all too well; that of playfulness, of fondness. One he has long since associated with safety.

He breathes out a short laugh. “How long have you been standing there?” Draco asks, ringed fingers deftly resuming to work on his tie, but he isn’t having much success. He feels far too jittery, and as a result he keeps accidentally knotting it, only to unwind the silk and try again, over and over like some messed up routine.

Watching her through the mirror’s reflection, he sees [Y/N] step into the room. She’s wearing a plain black dress; lace sleeves, collarbones in display, the silver necklace he’d given her hanging around her neck.

“Long enough to find out that you’re a grown seventeen year old who doesn’t know how to tie his own tie.”

Draco still has it in him to roll his eyes, to let out a short-lived laugh. “I do,” he mutters, yanking a little at the fabric in frustration. “It’s just..”

[Y/N] swiftly pads across his room to join him at the dresser, a tiny grin playing across her lips. Standing in front of him, she gently knocks his hands away so as to work on his tie herself.

“Nerves?” she says quietly. The grin on her lips falls slightly as she fixes her gaze on his tie, hands quickly working to loop the loose ends together.

Draco inhales sharply. His palms are clammy, his heart is beating too fast inside of his chest—to say that he’s dealing with nerves would be an understatement.

”You could say that,” he decides, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides. When she looks up to meet his gaze, he tries for a weak smile, if only to quell the storm inside his heart.

”It’ll be fine,” [Y/N] tells him with a pursed smile. She’s done tying his tie. Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, which are covered with his suit jacket. His mother had insisted he wear it, just as her own mother had no doubt insisted [Y/N] wear her dress; it is somewhat of a special occasion, after all, although what they are celebrating is hardly something that neither draco nor [Y/N] feel too ecstatic about it.

”There’ll be drinks,” continues [Y/N] with a lilting tone, thumbs smoothing over the creases of his suit. “And..”

She trails off. There isn’t really much to say.

”Dancing?” Draco suggests half-heartedly.

There is one brief second in which their eyes meet, and both of their lips are already beginning to quirk up at the corners, and then the next they are both breaking out into laughter. And it’s not the kind that hurts your stomach or has you pounding your fists on the ground, but it’s laughter nonetheless—a little rigid, a little heavy-hearted, but it’s just as relieving.

[Y/N]’s shoulders wrack with subtle giggles. “Yeah,” she agrees, nodding. “And I suspect Greyback will be giving a motivational speech.”

Draco feels his lips tug up into a crooked grin. “Hear my aunt might skip out on the party. She’s got knitting to do, you see.”

Both of them let themselves paint a picture inside their head: the infamous, untamed Bellatrix, sitting in a quiet corner with a quilt in her lap, humming a little tune to herself.

[Y/N] throws her head back in a loud laugh, and this time it’s not quite as tense. Draco watches her, laughing quietly on his own, and suddenly his heart doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

He watches as the last of her giggles dissipate, and she is smiling down at her shoes again, and then back up at him.

“We’ll be okay,” she tells him softly, once more reaching out, but not to tie his tie or to smoothen out the creased fabric of his suit, but to card her fingers through his hair the way she knows relaxes him.

Staring down at her—holding her gaze, which is warm and comforting and reminiscent of simpler times, like when she would sneak into his bed at Hogwarts and they would whisper and laugh quietly into the night, taking care not to wake up any of his roommates—Draco allows himself to breathe. To feel like himself again; a boy in love and nothing more.

”Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes, leaning forward to lean his forehead on hers. “Yeah, we will.”

—

Gatherings at the Malfoy Manor were usually a grand event; peacocks would mill about the lawn, some wandering past the large castle doors and into the drawing room, where the guests would stroke their feathers in admiration with one hand and hold a glass of the finest mulled wine in the other as they spoke among themselves, laughing and boasting offhandedly about the ancient living room set they'd imported from France or their children's future careers. Sometimes one would have enough courage to bring up the notion of arranged marriages, only for Narcissa Malfoy to turn them down and say that Draco would choose for himself when the time came, veering the conversation away towards things like ministry connections.

Parties happened often back then—not as much to celebrate as to fill up the overly large halls of the manor with pointless chatter—but things have changed. It’s been a while since the Malfoys last opened their doors to guests.

Does this count as a party? Draco wonders to himself, watching Death Eaters filter into the drawing room, some wearing sickening grins and others looking dead inside.

There are no more wandering peacocks. No more music, no more friendly guests eager to wed their children into the Malfoy family. There are only murderers. Death Eaters. There is laughter, but the kind that has Draco feeling uneasy.

Things have changed. Draco wonders if it's for the better.

He knows he and [Y/N] can't hide here forever—at the edge of the shadowed banister overlooking the entrance hall—but they stay there for as long as they can, until his grim-looking mother comes up the staircase and beckons for them to join the party.

Party. Ha.

So Draco and [Y/N] trail after Narcissa, who leads them into the drawing room, where most of the Death Eaters have gathered. No peacocks, no music, but there is wine, and almost everyone is clutching a glass of it.

He feels [Y/N]'s fingers graze against his. Looking over at her, she sees him staring placidly in front of her, meeting no one's gaze, but she seems to feel his eyes on her—so she turns her head to the side, and Draco sees her facade slip away for the smallest of split seconds as the look on her face softens and she gives him this small, reassuring smile.

He can almost hear her voice inside his head: we'll be okay.

Draco swallows. Nods just a fraction of an inch.

People clap him on the back as he passes, congratulating him and [Y/N] for a job well done at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Draco nods mutely and lets [Y/N] do the talking—she has always been better at keeping her composure, masking her true thoughts.

"Could never have imagined it," cackles Alecto Carrow, marching up to them in the middle of the large room. Her cheeks are already tinged pink with intoxication, voice a higher pitch than usual. "Most I expected from you lot was.. well, nothing, really. Doubted you could even fix a dresser, much less a whole bloody cabinet!" she shrieks with laughter, some of the wine from her glass spilling onto the floor.

[Y/N]'s gaze is stony. "Thank you."

Alecto’s nose wrinkles, her chortles dying down. "Thank you?" she repeats. "S'that all you have to say?"

For a brief, horrifying moment, Draco almost thinks [Y/N] is going to bite back with a sarcastic remark—but things have changed and there is a mark on her arm now, so instead she says, flatly, "It wasn’t an easy feat." A slight pause. "We’re just as surprised as you."

Alecto grins. She seems satisfied. "Well, 'course it wasn't an easy feat, or at least for you." She takes a big swig out of her glass. "Could’ve done it myself in ten minutes, isn't that right, Amycus?"

Her brother Amycus snickers but doesn't reply. Draco knows it's because he doubts Alecto's claims just as much as they do; she doesn't seem capable of writing even a bloody paragraph on her own.

"Well," says [Y/N]. "We appreciate your.. praise."

Draco almost snorts. It’s uncharacteristic of her to be so formal, and most of all to take the high road when being insulted. He knows that if things were different, if their lives weren't on the line, she wouldn't be standing here at Draco's side—no, her wand would be at Alecto's throat.

But that little bit of humor quickly fades when Draco finds Amycus staring at [Y/N], uncouth eyes roaming from her lips to her exposed collarbones, the skin hiding just underneath the lace of her sleeves, the dress hugging her figure—

Draco feels anger flare up, hot and heavy inside of his chest. Unconsciously, he finds himself stepping forward, urged on by that unpleasant feeling worming its way into his stomach, curling his hands into fists, tinging the tips of his ears red as his fingers edge closer to the wand inside his pocket.

¨What are you looking at, boy?¨ Amycus sneers, meeting his gaze.

Draco thinks, at that moment, that magic would hardly be fit to put this ugly brute of a man in his place—no, he´d much rather use his fists, pummel them into that crooked nose of his until he kneels at [Y/N]’s feet and begs for her forgiveness, because no one should look at her like that—

[Y/N] is whispering something, but he can´t hear it through the blood rushing in his ears.

But all of a sudden, Amycus’s gaze changes. He is no longer looking at Draco; rather, at something over his shoulder, and then he is bowing his head, eyes downcast.

All it takes Draco is a brief glance behind him to realize why.

He hears [Y/N] now: he’s here. He’s here.

An odd hush has fallen over the large room. The cause is easy to pinpoint; the Dark Lord has appeared at the entrance of the large drawing room, bringing with him a familiar sense of foreboding as everyone’s breath seems to hitch. It’s funny, in a sick way, how easily the atmosphere has shifted from something like ease to suffocating tension. How Alecto, who had been cackling into her glass of wine just moments before, now looks like a dog called to heel. How Amycus has torn his hungry gaze away from [Y/N] to instead stare down obediently at his feet. How Draco’s own parents, who stand a few feet away from the Dark Lord at the entrance, have their lips pursed and their hands clasped in front of them in submission.

Draco would laugh, but he is one of them now, and his head is hung just like the rest of them.

¨My, my,¨ says the Dark Lord, tone soft. ¨What a lovely party.¨

It had been he, the Dark Lord, who had suggested the idea of a celebration to revere in Draco´s and [Y/N]´s success. Not out of fondness, of course, but out of sheer spite for the Malfoys, caused by Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. This party was just another part of his little mind games; not only had he forced their son, Draco, to let Death Eaters loose inside Hogwarts, but he was now forcing them to celebrate it.

But why is he here?

It had been he who proposed the party, but no one had expected the Dark Lord to actually come. He had other things of actual importance to attend to: things that involved torture and kidnap and blackmail. He was on the brink of taking over the Ministry of Magic, and thus was a busy man—the Dark Lord only goes where he is needed, and not to pointless parties.

Draco swallows.

So why is he here?

¨It is only right, of course,¨ Voldemort continues, his voice still so oddly soft, like he´s addressing children, ¨That we celebrate the success of our young Death Eaters. The task I gave them was not an easy one, I’m afraid, and yet they prevailed, in the end, and proved themselves to us.¨

He wonders if Voldemort has spotted him and [Y/N], and feels bile rise at the back of his throat. Draco doesn´t want him anywhere near her.

Just leave, Draco thinks to himself, his teeth gritted so tight he hears how they scrape inside his skull. Just leave.

“I must admit, a few months ago I had my doubts.. but now here we are, applauding them, congratulating them for a job well done, treating them as one of our own.. welcoming them.”

“Draco.”

[Y/N] has inched closer to him. A moment later she feels her fingers weaving through his, squeezing his palm so tight Draco knows without having to look that her knuckles have turned a ghostly white.

He squeezes back, thinking that she might just be as surprised as him. Just as nervous.

It’ll be okay, he tries to tell her without saying it out loud. He´s too scared to speak. It’ll be okay.

¨And yet even as we toast to their names..¨

Draco keeps his head down. He can hear the sound of Voldemort´s robes rasping against the floor as he moves about the room.

But that is not the only thing he hears. Cold sweat trickles down the side of his temple, because in the Dark Lord’s voice he hears an edge. He senses danger.

A thought bounces around Draco’s skull as he fixes his gaze intently on his shoes: why is he here?

"Even as we welcome them with open arms.. as we let them walk among us unharmed, revered, almost, for their bravery..¨

¨Draco,¨ [Y/N] repeats, a little louder this time but only for his ears, and if the room wasn´t so quiet he wouldn´t have heard her ragged, almost panicked breathing, but it was and he did. 

He senses uneasy movement from behind him. One of the other Death Eaters.

¨Despite our kindness, one of them dares to turn away from us. One of them dares—¨ The Dark Lord´s voice grows colder, angrier, losing control and then all of a sudden softening again after a pregnant pause; ¨One of them dared.. dares to feed information to the fools that call themselves the Order of the Phoenix.¨

Draco hears the collective murmur of surprise that ripples through the room.

“Draco.” [Y/N]’s grip on his hand, if possible, tightens.

¨One of them dares betray us.¨

There is a brief moment of confusion on Draco´s part. He turns his head to look at [Y/N], brows furrowed as he struggles to make sense of the Dark Lord´s words.

But then Draco meets her eyes. Sees the look on her face.

¨I´m sorry,¨ she whispers, and realization hits him like a burst of icy cold water.

¨Seize her,¨ Voldemort says coldly. When Draco looks up, he sees that he is halfway across the room but his gaze is fixed on them—on [Y/N].

Amycus and Alecto are the first to move. They drop their glasses with no hesitation, sending them to the floor where they break into a hundred tiny pieces, and grab [Y/N] by the arms. She resists, wrestling in their arms, but the string of words that leave her mouth aren´t curses, nor are they pleas to let her go; no, they are apologies, repeated over and over again like a mantra as she desperately holds Draco´s gaze—”I’m sorry, Draco. I’m sorry.”

He watches as they yank [Y/N] across the floor, towards the Dark Lord, away from him. His lungs have stopped working, his heart is pounding wildly somewhere inside his throat, and [Y/N] is being roughly thrown at the Dark Lord´s feet—

Draco can´t breathe. His mind is buzzing, blanking out to a field of white, noise and heat colliding and melting until he can´t think through the blood rushing in his ears.

“Pity,” the Dark Lord whispers, gripping her chin harshly, jerking it up so that she would look at him. 

“I thought you'd proved yourself to be worthy of my praise, but instead it seems you've proved yourself to be rather the opposite—“

She snaps her head away. “Fuck you.”

“You, my child, have proved yourself to be a fool.”

“You´re never going to win.”

The Dark Lord seems unfazed. A grin splits wide on his face, stretching his lips into an uncannily amused grin as he stares down at the girl at his feet for a few seconds before nodding—and then turning around, twirling his wand in his hands—when had he pulled it out?

“And now, my brothers and sisters.”

Draco doesn’t feel his feet move underneath him, but they do.

“Lo and behold what happens to ungrateful fools who turn us away believing that they are saving the world, when in fact they are ruining themselves.”

Everything happens so quickly that Draco barely has any time to react; Voldemort raises his wand, and it seems to almost shine in the light as he points it directly towards [Y/N]—the Dark Lord´s mouth opens, the spell resting on the tip of his tongue, [Y/N] at the opposite end of his wand—

“No!”

It’s as though something inside of Draco has snapped, like he is being jarred awake. He doesn´t think—just darts forward with no real goal in mind other than to put himself in between Voldemort and [Y/N], but then there are hands grabbing at his arms, holding him back—

“Let go of me!” his tone is feral. He jabs his elbow into someone´s stomach, trying desperately to wrestle himself free, but the more Death Eaters he rips off of him, the more take their place. “[Y/N]!” he is breathless. “[Y/N]—”

The Dark Lord is going to kill her. He´s going to bloody kill her.

“Draco,” he hears his mother´s voice but doesn’t see her—he´s too busy thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever has hold of him, yelling out profanities and curses and [Y/N]´s name; “Draco, come. You don´t want to see this.”

“Let fucking go of me!”

But then the Dark Lord´s voice cuts through the havoc—¨Let him stay.¨

“[Y/N]!” Draco shouts, gritting his teeth. There are tears in his eyes; he doesn´t realize they´re there until they´ve fallen and he tastes them on his tongue. “Don´t touch her! Don´t fucking touch her!”

But the Dark Lord is, once again, unfazed. He turns his gaze to Draco but doesn´t lower his wand. “Watch, my child,” he says, voice ringing throughout the room, cold and unforgiving. “And pay close attention. This is what happens to cowards. To fools. To ungrateful scum.”

[Y/N]´s back is turned to Draco, and maybe it is better that way, because when the Dark Lord raises his wand, he doesn´t have to see the light leave her eyes.

Draco feels the entire world slow down. A single thought appears inside the ruined mess that is his mind, almost as if it’s mocking him—[Y/N] has always been better at masking her true thoughts. At hiding things; even from him. 

We’ll be okay, [Y/N] had told him.

She had lied.

¨Avada Kedavra!¨

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt​ @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual @chaoticgirl04

[purrincess-chat]

So, I've had some time to sit with Gang of Secrets, and I know everyone in the fandom probably has their feelings about Alya finding out first, especially two episodes after she just told Luka she can't tell him, but let me tell you why Alya is the most obvious and best choice.

First of all, it's a commonly used trope in shows with secret identities that the hero's best friend finds out their identity first. Lots of other shows, comics, and books have done it, if fact early concepts for ML had Alya knowing from the beginning, so it's not really surprising that Marinette confided in her first. Alya was the first hero that Marinette picked, she is her best friend, she is arguably the person Marinette trusts most (save Chat Noir who we will talk about later). Marinette telling Alya makes sense whether you like it or not because of the role that Alya plays in the grand scheme of the story.

All stories utilize tropes. They're not a bad thing. Some of them are overdone, sure, but it's more about how you use them that matters. Most stories follow a certain formula so viewers/readers know what to expect, and yes, even stories with big twists follow the same structure. Telling the best friend from a storytelling perspective makes sense. Telling the alternate love interest who isn't crucial to the story doesn't.

Take off your shipping goggles for a second and look at things from a storytelling perspective. Remove everyone's names and forget how you feel about them, and just look at the character roles. You have a protagonist, a main love interest, a best friend, and a temporary side love interest. Who does the protagonist trust most in this circle in a normal story? Who learns the secret first? Writing is a balancing act. You have to choose which characters to develop wisely, and I'm not going to argue that ML is a golden standard of storytelling and writing. It's not. But telling a secondary love interest in this case would add a more important role to a character who really wasn't designed for that. That doesn't mean they can't still develop that character in other ways, but for a plot point of this caliber, the best friend takes priority over the love interests. Both of them. Because while the love interest can be a friend, a confidant, a shoulder to lean on, their primary function to the protagonist is romance. Meanwhile, a best friend can be all of those things and more. The best friend can be whatever the protagonist needs in the moment.

Now, let's look more closely at this specific situation. Marinette was spiralling. She couldn't keep up with both of her lives, and the stress was literally eating her alive. She just decided that she can't be in love with either of the boys she likes because she would always be keeping a secret from them. She was heartbroken, stressed, and exhausted. Yes, Chat Noir attempted to be there for her and support her as best he could, but the problem here is the role Chat Noir is playing. He is for lack of better terms, the superhero sidekick, but also still the love interest. (Even if LB doesn't know it) And in this case too, she knows Chat Noir is in love with her, and for a girl who has recently decided that love is off the table, you can see why she didn't want to confide in him. Would he have understood her stress if she told him? Sure. But revealing their identities to each other now would have been detrimental to Marinette, and here is why:

Marinette gave up on love for the time being. We, the audience, know that Chat Noir is Adrien, the boy she loves. For her to say, I can't be in love right now, only to turn around and find out that the person she was confiding in and leaning on for support was, in fact, her love interest, it would have made her spiral even worse. No where would have been safe for her. And you can argue what a good bean Adrien is, and whatever, that's not the point here.

Marinette takes her job as Ladybug very seriously. The reason she is so stressed is because now with the added responsibility of being the guardian, she risks losing not only her Miraculous, but also the entire Miracle Box. That's a lot of power in the wrong hands, and she knows that quite well. This caused her to lean on the side of hypervigilance. She was always transformed and looking for trouble because she was paranoid that she was going to miss something and fail again. With so much changing on the superhero side of her life, she needed an anchor back to her civilian life. So that's where Alya comes in.

Alya provides her with a sense of normalcy, a reminder that she has a life outside of the mask. She grounds her to her civilian life and provides her with support she needs to juggle her superhero life. (And yes, she still does this even if you hate her) On the opposite end of that spectrum, Chat Noir grounds her to her superhero life, and so much had changed for her on the superhero side of things with the introduction of her guardian duties that revealing her identity to Chat would have just been one more change to that part of her life with nothing to fall back on. By keeping their identities in place and giving her an anchor in her regular life, Marinette can find better balance between the two. Her secrets with Chat Noir are a constant, or a "normal" that she can use to ground herself. She is used to them, she expects them, it's part of her schema for her superhero life. She shows up, her goofy partner cracks some jokes, they beat up the bad guy, they go home. Chat Noir is playing his role perfectly in this sense. He offered to be there for her, but he wasn't who she needed at the time. The scale had tipped too far in her super life, so she needed something to tip it back toward her civilian life. So, we got Alya. Which makes logical sense given her role in the story. It's the role she was born to play. Whether you like it or not.

I know all the shippers are thirsty for content, trust me, I am adrinette trash, and I want the children to kiss each other on the face just as much as the next shipper. But I fundamentally understand why that can't happen right now in canon. And that's why fanfiction exists. I can make them kiss whenever I want. I can make them reveal whenever I want. I can write as many reveals as I want. Canon can only do it once, and idk about you guys, but I'd like their eventual reveal to be for a better reason than "I'm spiralling out of control please help." I'd also prefer for it not to be in a random ass episode in the middle of the season. I want it to have its moment. I want it to slap me and take my wallet, so I can tell it thank you. I want the reveal to be that bitch. Doing it here would have been cheap, and it would have cheapened the rest of the season for me. Now, if they wanna do it in the s4 finale when shit is getting lit? Sign me up. But right now, it wasn't the right call. And that's fine.

[literaila]

hopeless reality

BAU team x reader 

request: Hii! I’m in serious need of some angsty sshhiiiit and I love your writing... Could you maybe write some platonic BAU x reader where the reader is the youngest, idk she can be like 20 or something, and a case goes TERRIBLY wrong and she’s injure dying and everyone’s like but she can’t die, she was supposed to outlive us all!

warnings: kinda sad, panicked everyone, hotch basically abandons all of them, some spoliers past season 6, no concrete ending.. 

a/n: I’VE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS ITS SO DIFFERENT 

*

“I can do it.” 

Those words weren't surprising for any of them. 

As the youngest, Y/N was always looking for new ways to prove herself to all of them. She was used to the staring, and the scoffs people made when they saw her next to the all mighty prestigious BAU team. She was used to people looking at her and wondering if they had picked someone up off of the highway, or if she was a murder just riding along with them. She was used to being undermined and underestimated by everyone. 

Age was a tricky little thing people didn't seem to look past. 

But it wasn't as if she put up with it. When the local police officers were making side remarks about her right behind her back, she didn't keep her mouth shut. Didn't stand there and listen to them expect nothing of her. 

And she enjoyed the looks on their faces when they realized she was listening. She liked the stammered apologies that came out of their mouths while she stared them down. 

She wasn't one to bite her tongue. 

And she had something to prove, to herself and to all of her teammates. She had to show them that she was valuable, that her age didn't affect how much she could do, how much she was willing to do. 

And so, it was expected when she offered herself up like a doll for sale. 

It's what happens during every case. 

This time though, all of her teammates nodded along with her. It was a man closer to her age, only a couple of years older, and she was the most likely to lure him. The most likely to trap him in the prison of being caught. 

“Okay, Y/L/N will go in, Morgan and Rossi follow her in as backup, blend into the crowd.” Everyone awaited Hotch's formal orders, ready to finally be done with the case that had taken them days to solve. “You three need to remember, he's going to be on the lookout for us, he's definitely seen the news by now.” 

The three of them nodded, Y/N already antsy on her feet as she waited to leave. Definitely the most willing to catch him out of anybody else in the room. 

She nodded at the rest of the team, smiling at Garcia’s “See you soon Neptune! Be careful.” from the phone on the table. She grabbed her bag, filled with clothes that would help her fit into the bar scene, and her vest. Just in case. 

She started to walk out the door, trailing after Morgan and Rossi as they got ready to leave when Hotch called her back into the room. 

Everyone else had already left, and her nerves were telling her to continue walking and get to her job, but out of anyone else there, she was used to being pulled back behind. 

“Yeah, Hotch?” 

“You shouldn't hesitate to call in Derek or Dave, this unsub isn't going to stick around if he suspects something. You know that?” 

It took all of her willpower not to roll her eyes at his protective instincts, instead going for a smile, hoping to ease whatever paternal nerves he could be feeling. 

“Course, Hotchner. I know what to do.” 

She nodded at him, choosing not to stay any longer than she had to, saving herself from his double-checking, and reassuring. 

She waved with one of her hands walking out the door. 

*

Wearing a dress and both a bulletproof vest was extremely uncomfortable. Especially when it was supposed to be discreet. 

Y/N sat in the middle of the bar, sipping on a fake drink, throwing smiles to anybody who seemed to look at her, waiting for the one person she needed looks from to approach her. 

She knew what to expect, an alpha male, expecting her to fall under his wing and go with him home- which of course would be when he would torture and murder her like he did all those other girls -and she wasn't going to let herself slip up when he was so close. 

A couple of guys had come up to her already, asking her if she was new around if she needed some help getting home, if she was lost in a bar like this one. All things that she tried not to show disgust at, smiling and telling them she was expecting someone. 

Though, when she saw him, she knew he would be different. 

He was carrying himself differently. Smirking at everyone else, unlike a normal too confident male would. It was more threatening, like he expected everyone in the room to do whatever he said, whenever he said. 

An alpha male. 

Y/N could tell in almost an instant that this was her guy, and that it was time to put on a show. 

*

It was an easy catch. The bait pulled him perfectly. 

And she played the part just as expected. 

Laughing at everything he said, smiling at him whenever she got the opportunity, drinking the drink she knew he was planning to spike soon. 

It was a rehearsed part, one she was exceptional at. 

But, when he started pushing her, begging her to come home with him, promising her that he would make it worth her while, she didn't know what to do. 

With the last girls, he had waited longer, drugged them before he even dared to take them home, stayed at the bar with them so that they would be more comfortable with him. 

But it had only been twenty minutes, only a short minute since he had first looked at her. 

He was devolving too fast. 

Y/N smiled, trying not to let the sudden nerves she felt show in her eyes, trying to keep herself comfortable sitting so close to him. 

She looked over to Derek, who was sitting across the bar, pretending to drink while he listened to their conversation. He was looking back at her, giving her a look that she knew was asking if she was okay, if she knew what to do. He was worried too. 

She took a quiet deep breath in. 

“I haven't finished my drink yet,” she said, playing dumb, trying to act like she was innocent enough, trying to test him. 

“I have plenty of drinks back at my place.” 

She giggled, playing with the bracelet on her wrist, looking back over to Derek. 

“It's so early in the night…” She whispered, flaunting her confidence, playing off her “drunkenness” as best as she could while still smiling at him. 

But she could tell that he was getting impatient, and wasn't willing to wait anymore. 

“What game are you playing?” 

And she could hear his real voice. Not the man that went to strange bars to pick up women, but the man who murdered them as soon as he took them home. The man who was planning to murder her. 

She looked over to Derek once more, once too much. 

The unsub was looking with her, glaring eyes meeting Derek’s, and the reaction was written out in front of all of them. 

He had seen Derek on TV. Seen him with the FBI. 

He turned back around, his hand slipping to his pocket. 

“You’re with them huh?” He was whispering, but his voice was demanding, furious. 

And the giggle that came out Y/N wasn't fake this time, just nervous. 

“What are you talking about?” She asked, her feet tapping on the barstool, her body getting ready to run, trying to smile. 

“The FBI.” 

He spat the words in her face. The smile falling from her lips. 

The hand moving to point at her. 

What was it she wondered? 

What was pain? 

“Physical pain inspires the worst kind of helplessness.” 

*

Ambulances were surprisingly loud. 

Louder than you’d assume. 

They were threatening, and dangerous, and did nothing to help give you hope. 

Derek didn't get scared. He didn't need hope to keep him upright, he wasn't threatened by any of the ambulances that he had seen before, he didn't find them too loud. 

But he was supposed to be protecting her. 

They all knew, going into the bar, before the bar, that it was dangerous. They all knew that there was a strong possibility that she could get hurt. But she was cautious, and she was brave. So he didn't worry. He didn't think he had to worry. Even with an unsub who was known for lashing out, for making big decisions with no thought. Hotch had told Derek, all of them, that this would be harder than normal, that they needed to be more watchful, more careful. 

She’d been laughing with them in the car on the way over. Telling them that if either Derek or Rossi got in the way of her job, she’d disown them as her friends. She’d laughed and joked with them, not an ounce of fear in her eyes, no anxiety resting upon her body.

But he saw that look in her eyes. 

That strange scared look. 

It was unfamiliar, an anomaly to him. He’d never seen her eyes like that. 

She was the youngest, the most daring, the person who offered to do anything that no one else wanted to. 

She laughed when one of them said they were too tired to go out for drinks, offered to watch both Hotch and JJ kids when they were busy. She moved between them like she was mending with them, and she was everyone's best friend. 

She took too many risks, moved too fast, thought too hard. She did everything on a whim, but it was impossible to stop her. Impossible to fade her from the scene. Impossible for anything to scare her like it would any person. 

He’d never had to worry about her before. 

She’d made it clear that she could take care of herself, that she was strong, that just because she was the youngest and most inexperienced, it didn't mean she couldn't do what any one of them could. 

She was so strong. 

And he’d never seen that look in her eyes before. 

Desperation, trepidation. Two things that had never filled his body like in that moment. 

He could see the unsub moving, he could see her worried eyes, her panicked posture. He saw everyone else around them, moving normally, none of them quite as scared as she was. He saw Rossi looking over at him from the bar. 

And he saw the gun in the unsubs hands. 

He wished he had been paying attention more, watching her, checking to make sure she seemed just fine. He wished he had watched the unsub, checked to make sure he couldn't see any weapons on him. He wished that he could’ve done it all over again, asked her to step back, to let him catch the guy. 

And he wished he could’ve been fast enough. 

The unsub had pulled out the gun, had stared at her with his threatening eyes, and she moved back, tried to get away but, she wasn't fast enough, and the unsub was too quick. 

Derek had watched her stumble backward. He watched the pain light in her eyes and the panic fade out. 

She used to tease him about watching everything. 

“We aren't at work, you don't have to profile everyone in the room, Derek.” 

Then she’d pass him a drink. Tell him that it was supposed to be fun, that they all needed a little more fun in their lives. 

But now, all Derek needed was to get her eyes out of his head. 

Her eyes were so desperate and panicked and worried for everyone, for everything. Her eyes were usually so brave and so curious. 

He needed to get them out of his head, he needed this moment to be over. 

He needed to not be sitting in the back of an ambulance with her. 

It was surprisingly loud. 

And scary. 

He’d never been scared like this before. 

*

Rossi wasn't worried. 

He wasn't. Really. 

He knew her, knew how fast her body would spring back, rejuvenate itself. He knew that she was strong, that she could stand any amount of pain, that when he saw her next she would be smiling, and she’d ask him if this meant they could have a party. 

He knew she’d be fine. 

He wasn't allowed to go in the ambulance with Y/N and Derek. The paramedics assured both him and Derek that only one could go, and Rossi could see the time slipping past them. He could see the clock ticking and he knew that they had to speed things up. 

So, he’d pushed Derek into the ambulance. 

He wasn't worried, so why would he go with her? 

Besides, Derek was scared. He was shut down and focused so much on her, Rossi thought that Derek would have fought him for the place in the ambulance. 

He thought about all the people he’d seen get hurt while working this job. Thought about all the times one of them made a mistake, or someone wasn't quick enough. Most of the time, they were fine. Not many people got hurt on the job. 

There was always a couple weeks of leave, a couple weeks to get themselves back together, but they always came back. 

He hadn't seen too many people die. 

So he wasn't worried. The odds were that she would live. The odds were that she would be completely fine by the time he got to the hospital. 

Because she was strong. She was healthy, had a young body, and more energy than she needed in the first place. 

Rossi thought it might be good for her to slow down. This might be a good experience for someone like her. Someone who takes too many risks, goes out on a whim, and doesn't slow down even when she has the chance. 

This might help her become a better agent. Someone more careful. 

He wasn't worried. 

She’d be fine. 

Really. 

*

JJ got the news first. 

Back at the police department, while they were clearing up. She knew that Derek, Hotch, and Rossi all knew. She knew that the unsub had clued into who Y/N was, she knew that Derek and Rossi hadn't been enough to protect her. She knew that Y/N was on her way to the hospital, that she’d been shot in the field. 

They didn't tell her where. Or how she was doing. 

JJ had been here before. She had been in the situation of not knowing, of constant anxiety, of the questions that just bang back and forth in your head until you can get your answers. 

She knew how that felt. 

She looked over to Spencer and Emily, both of them clueless to what was going on, to their friend being brought to the hospital. 

“Have you got the unsub detained?” She whispered, leaving the room, trying to gather all of the facts before she made assumptions. 

“Yes. He's on his way to the police station now.” 

“And no one else was hurt?” 

“No.” 

JJ nodded to herself, feeling relieved at the news. 

The questions were in her head, spinning around. She knew that she wouldn't have any of them answered any time soon. Not until they could get into the hospital and see her. 

“And JJ?” 

Hotch’s voice was the same as always. Demanding. 

“Yes?” 

“I need you to tell Spencer and Emily.” 

“Hotch-” 

“I’ve got to go.” 

And then she was left. With her news. And her questions. 

And her confusion. 

Of how this could ever have happened. 

*

Hotch wasn't allowed to have a reaction. He wasn't allowed to think about it. 

He was working. He had to do his job. 

Members of his team had been shot before. 

They all knew the risk there was in going in. They all knew how disguises couldn't hide everything. And they all knew that people got hurt doing the job. 

It wasn't surprising. Wasn't anything new. 

But she had reassured him. She had told him she knew what she was doing, she knew what she was doing. 

He had believed her. 

He could hear his voice in her head, telling all of them that she would do it. Like she always did. Like every other time, she got the chance. 

She never took a step back, never looked at the situation before offering to go. 

It was reckless and stupid. 

No one ever said a thing. When she offered to be the bait, all of them accepted it, expected it. They all knew that she would be the first to jump at the chance to go out in the field. They all knew that she was smart and strong, and she knew what she was doing. 

None of them ever said no. It was so hard to say no to her. 

But she had reassured him, Hotch had double-checked this time, just to make sure she would be safe. He put two experienced agents as her back up, two people that he trusted and knew would protect her. 

“I can do it.” 

She could do it. 

She’d been shot. 

And he felt like blaming himself, felt like being angry, furious at her for offering to go, for reassuring him and lying, and he felt like being angry at himself for letting him go, for not properly preparing her. 

But he didn't have time to ponder those thoughts. 

He didn't have the time. 

He couldn't have a reaction. 

He had a job to do. 

He was working. 

He wouldn't think of it. 

*

Emily probably knew better than anyone else. 

She was probably most familiar with pain. With hurt. 

She knew how this would affect her, she knew how she would feel. She knew how it would change her even after she was healed. She knew how the scar would never leave her body, and that she would wince every time she saw it. 

No matter how much Emily wished she wouldn't understand, she did. 

She knew what would happen to Y/N. 

If she lived that is. If she was strong enough, if the bullet wasn't stronger than her. If she wasn't too late, if the doctors could save her. If she would stay alive. 

And she would be there this time. 

If she died. If the world was cruel enough to take her away. 

She would have to be with her friends, she wasn't allowed to run away again. She wasn't allowed to go across the world and break alone, she wasn't allowed to turn her back like she had before. Even if she wanted to. Even if running away seemed like the only thing she could do. She would stand by them, and learn what it felt like to have your friend die. 

But she wouldn't come back. 

That was probably the hardest thought. 

If Y/N died, she wouldn't have the opportunity to come back. She wouldn't have the months to heal, the job across the world, she would have the pain of knowing that her friends thought she was dead, but she also wouldn't have any pain. 

She’d be dead. Gone. Forever. 

And Emily knew what that meant. 

It almost killed her to know that. 

When she watched Spencer freeze as JJ told both of them, when she saw the worry in JJ’s eyes, she knew that the only thing she could do was be there for all of them. For her, if she could. And for them, if she had to. 

It was a scary thing to know your friend was hurt. To know that while everything else in the world stayed the same, several hearts were breaking with the knowledge of the pain their friend was in. It was crazy to think that not everyone's world changed. 

It was selfish of her to be thinking of herself, to be avoiding the memories and the thought that came with Y/N being dead. It was selfish to assume she was. It was selfish that she wasn't doing anything to help her friends, to help herself. It was terrible of her not to hope, not allow herself to feel some relief. 

But she had to protect herself. 

Expect the worse, welcome the best. 

Emily was scared. She was scared for Y/N, scared to be there this time, scared to have to hold everyone together like she couldn't before. Scared for the worse to be the reality. For her friend to really be gone. 

She could hear her laugh in her head. She knew that it wouldn't leave. It wouldn't go away until Emily could hear it again. 

Pain. 

She was so familiar with. She was so used to. 

Pain. 

Emily probably knew that better than anyone else. 

*

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

That's all Spencer knew. 

He didn't know what was going to happen, if she would live, if she would die, if she was okay, if she wasn't. He didn't know what they would do without her, what would happen if she really did die, if the youngest died before any of the oldest could. 

He didn't know how everyone would feel, how he would feel if she died. 

He didn't know what any of them would do without her laughter, without her pushing for them to have fun when work was over, without her running around the office, making everything seem bright when it was nothing but dim. 

He didn't know what would happen. What was happening? 

But he knew

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

He knew that if he could see her, if he had more information about what had happened, he could figure out the probability that she would live. He knew that if he had been there, he would know how to feel, what was going to happen. 

But they were sitting in the hospital waiting room. They couldn't see her yet. 

Derek hadn't said a word. Emily was sitting next to Spencer. JJ was walking around, checking on all of them instead of herself, being as selfless as she could while they were all stuck in a state of panic. 

Rossi was talking to the nurse again. 

There still wasn't any news. 

None of them were sure how she could’ve been hurt, with her vest, and her self defense techniques. None of them were sure how hurt she could be. 

But 

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

Spencer held onto that. 

She wouldn't be one of the hundred. She wouldn't. 

He thought of the sleepovers Y/N, Garcia, and he had. Like children. He thought of how both of them spent the entire night picking on him, trying to make him laugh. He thought of how she always convinced the two of them to come over, told them that it was movie night even if it was a completely random day. 

He hated the thought of not doing that anymore. 

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

She was the youngest. Everyone teased her about it. They all expected her to live for a hundred years, far longer than any of them could. She was the youngest and the brightest and the bravest. She wasn't supposed to die before any of them could. 

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

When she had offered to be the bait, Spencer hadn't felt worried. He didn't even think of her getting hurt, only felt relieved that this case would finally be over, that they could all go home. He didn't worry at all. 

But he should have. 

Because she always did this, she always offered, and no one ever turned her down. The odds were that she should’ve gotten hurt long before this. 

Odds were that she was extremely lucky. 

Except for now. 

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

Spencer didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if she would live, if she would die. He didn't know what would happen. He barely knew anything at all. 

But Derek wasn't talking, Emily was silent, JJ was avoiding the topic, and Rossi had asked the nurse for an update eight times in the last thirty minutes. 

He didn't know. 

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

She wouldn't be one of the hundred. 

She couldn't. 

*

Before JJ had told her, Penelope knew something was off. 

No one had called her to update on if they had got him or not. Her phone had been completely silent. 

That was off. 

She called her Neptune. 

It was one of the planets that couldn't be seen from Earth. 

She’d always asked where the nickname had come from. 

Penelope had called her that because Y/N was unreachable to her. She held so much, all this brightness, and you could barely even tell from the surface. 

It was a nickname that seemed to fit her more than anything else. 

And she couldn't help but think of it as soon as she got the call. 

Neptune. Her best friend. 

She didn't understand much about profilers, but she knew that Y/N was different from all of her other friends. She didn't know if it was because she was younger, and less experienced, or if she just carried something different to her. 

But it was a smart decision to be her best friend, to depend on her. 

They’d spent nights together, laughing, creating insanity with every sentence, every hour that ticked past on the clock. They’d spent time laughing, and crying, learning everything they could about each other. 

‘Best friend’ was a loose term, one that didn't extend far enough for their relationship. 

And Penelope had known something was wrong, as soon as no one had called her. 

The first thought was that the unsub had gotten away, that he was going somewhere else and they still had to catch him. 

But she knew that wasn't true, because they hadn't called her to help. 

And then she thought that maybe he had been difficult, that maybe it was taking all of the team to help deal with him. 

But, that didn't seem quite right. 

And then she thought of all the other times something like this had happened, when she hadn't gotten a phone call, and there was nothing but silence for a couple of hours. 

And all she could think of, was the day Emily almost died. 

And then the bullet Spencer had taken to the leg. 

And then the stabbing Hotch had been through. 

For Penelope, after those thoughts, she didn't have any choice but to find out where they were. 

So, she hacked their phones. 

It wasn't completely rational, but Penelope had never proved to do things that were rational before. And she was far too protective to not do anything. 

JJ’s phone showed up at the police department they were working from. So did Emily and Spencers. Hotch was somewhere across town. Rossi was still at the bar, and Derek was at the nearby Emergency Room. 

By the time she had gotten to Y/N, she knew something was wrong. 

One of them was hurt. 

*

When she finally got the phone call, she had already pulled some of her hair out, stalked the news, tried to hack into the hospital's patient list- which she couldn't because not all of it was digital -and bitten off almost all of her nails. 

JJ had told her, just like JJ always did, informing all of them the best she could. 

And they didn't know enough. 

Penelope had no idea how her best friend was, and even though she’d asked over and over, what had happened, JJ didn't have any answers for her. 

It was a stupid situation. 

Penelope hoped she wasn't hurt. That the bullet hadn't gotten anywhere near anything important, that she would live just as Penelope had years ago. 

If she had lived, so could Y/N. 

She was young and strong and she had been wearing a vest, and there was nothing wrong with her, if they didn't know anything it was good. It was good that no one had told them anything. 

That meant she wasn't dead yet. 

And that's all Penelope had to hold onto. 

She called her Neptune. Because she was unreachable. 

She would be fine. 

*

Her eyes. They looked so scared. Derek was so scared. 

She would be fine. Rossi knew. 

JJ didn't know how this could have happened. 

He wouldn't think of it. He was working. 

Emily knew better than anyone else. 

38,000 people in America die of gunshot wounds each year. 

An average of 100 a day. 

She called her Neptune. 

She was the youngest out of all of them. 

She had to be okay. 

*

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