#that’s the only thing i’d actually consider removing but idk how i would

[dashiellqvverty]

tbh i don’t believe ppl who say they shave bc leg hair gives them sensory issues or whatever bc *i* actually get sensory issues from shaving so like. what is the truth.

[hazbincalifornia]

(I’m pretty sure the way I type is recognizable but I need to like pretend at anonymity bc I feel. Remarkably silly about this)

I wanted to like idk rant to someone in the HB fandom who isn’t balls deep in the “anti proship” sphere bc like, I’ve been struggling w guilt over enjoying a certain ship that everyone hates and considers problematic (I think Loona and Octavia is rlly cute!) and I’d like to make content for it but I also rlly fear being seen as like a pedophile. Do u ever worry abt that kind of thing? And is there anyway ur able to get over it if u do? I don’t like getting into anti/anti anti discourse bc I feel like it’s a very reductive way to view and interpret media but I still have a crazy amount of worry/guilt

First off, it is still ridiculous to me that this is even a problem in this fandom. This is an adult show about characters in Hell, and the main characters are, respectively, assassins and the eclectic cast of the Hotel which includes a cannibal serial killer. (I am eternally both amused and completely baffled that like half the awful puritanical takes I see are from Val icons. Buddy. Pal. The fucked up fiction is coming from inside the house.) I saw waaaaay more fucked up shit on Zim nsfw twitter than I see on Hellaverse twitter and that show was Y7. Up your game, guys.

Personally, I don't really see Loona and Via as siblings/sisters as much as I think a lot of others do, more just friends (and honestly I think canon moved much too quickly to give them such a heartfelt scene together, they hadn't even met officially before that point?) so it's really only the age thing and even then, the plot of HB has seemed to imply that a fair amount of time has passed since the series started, probably around a year- so Via would be 18 or older by the time anything actually started anyway, especially if they became friends first. Setting aside the 'justification' though... they're not real. They're cute together, I agree, and I think you should be perfectly fine enjoying them just in the lens of 'they're similar, I like how they'd interact, and I think they're cute together'!

I was pretty much forged in my opinions about this from Invader Zim stuff, where people insisted that liking two characters that I'd liked together since I was thirteen made you a pedophile. Obviously, I could tell that wasn't true, because it had never been the case in all those years up to people starting to be bitchy about it in 2019. (Before that, it was that it was bad because it was enemies to lovers and, more importantly, gay. Great hater throne to inherit, guys!)

Unfortunately... as stupid as it is, this fandom is way more puritanical than it should be, so it wouldn't be wrong to engage through anonymity to protect yourself. Find the people in the tag who are using 'proship/proship interact' or something along those lines (I've seen a few, although some tend to lean more on hard/dead dove content), post on ao3 into the anonymous collection which removes your name, make a tumblr sideblog that doesn't connect to your main, find fellow shippers and interact with them specifically. Do whatever you need to do to keep yourself safe from people who can't understand that thinking something is cute or interesting to explore in fiction is automatically bad just because they don't like it. The more stuff that's put out there about the ship, the more likely you are to find kindred spirits, that's honestly part of how I gathered my mpreg weirdos to me in both this fandom and the last.

I'm pretty sure that the callout I got for Sunny was why several mutuals who were a friend group unfollowed (and likely muted) me on twitter. Unfortunately, it left me worrying that the other shoe was going to drop any day for about a week because it got just enough notes to make me worry but not enough to get to anyone with any real reach to spread and get it 'over with'.

At this point, I've sort of reached a state of 'fuck it', because if it happens, it happens. I know that I'm fine, and the people I genuinely care about know that too. I know that what I'm making is entirely separate from my morals as a person, if not from how dumb the IZ stuff was than from the fact that I was an English major. Literature is full of stuff that authors don't make as a 1:1 with their real-life morals! And the one you're thinking about isn't 'bad' comparatively at all.

I think the fandom is starting to see that being a dick about fictional content is bad through the backlash to Poison and 'hey, maybe telling somebody that they need to detail their trauma to the public to make fiction is bad?', but it seems to mostly be centered on dub/noncon, so I wouldn't necessarily hold my breath.

At the end of the day though, remember this: You, as a person, are completely fine, no matter what others might think. Octavia and Loona would probably be seen as a totally normal ship like ten years ago (except for people who'd be dicks about them being gay) and there is no judgement to be made on your character in any reasonable way for thinking they're a good ship. You're not a pedophile for thinking a fictional owl and hellhound look cute together, any more than I was for smacking together two Nicktoon characters, and frankly the IZ argument held slightly more water than 'the almost-18-year-old and the 22-year-old' because Zim's age was so ambigious. Try explaining this 'people think the young adult animals holding hands are bad' to any adult who isn't sucked into fandom discourse and they'd probably be baffled that it's a problem.

I know that the guilty feelings aren't always rational and it took a bit of time for me to unwind how I felt about creating certain stuff too, but try to remember that above all else- exploring things in fiction has been a thing people have done for a very, very long time. What matters is your actions towards other real people, not what you do with fictional dolls.

If nothing else, if you want you can always send me a dm and chat that way, I'd be happy to talk.

[buddieisgoingcanon25]

Oop R has now unfollowed C on Instagram.

Also to that other anon who thinks C left R and he was probably cheating on her. Is it possible? Sure. But you gotta look at the full picture of why he is the one considering as leaving. Ryan has gone to leave her multiple times and has even stated multiple times over the years in various interviews online how their relationship was about to end and he was done only for her to end up pregnant thus pausing it. Then it happened again and she got pregnant again pausing it. And then the pandemic again paused it. Then we get to the last year. Ryan was the one who first started slowly removing her from his SM. She continued on as everything was fine while he erased her off it. Wouldn’t make much sense for her to continue pushing the were in love, look at my ring, couples goal that she did if she had left him. Then we get to the hello article. We won’t ever know the full story with that but in my opinion it was released before it was supposed to. But it was very clear by the tone of it, he called it. He ended it. And while neither ever officially commented on it, she very much went scorched earth after it and completely purged him immediately and blocked him. Now from there it becomes speculation because let’s be real we won’t ever find out the full story, but it’s obvious the article releasing made them lose control of whatever narrative they were trying for during the separation. The entire summer we just had to endure with them? That was them putting the effort in to regaining control over it. So now they could end it on their terms. It’s been very clear Ryan is and has been done with their relationship so, I’d speculate he agreed to “reconcile” for the summer so she’d have her “husband” for her bikini competition (which she dropped out of) the movie premiere, her 30th birthday, their paid trip (I’d hazard the deal was for the both of them with a heavy insinuating he be there because he does have the bigger fan base and would be more likely to drum up business after their reviews), her friends wedding, and then finally her song release. So all of that done the only thing left is the actual separation. Now taking into account her reaction to it the first time, and the kind of person she is, I’d say it’s pretty obvious while they regained control of their narrative she wouldn’t want to come off as the “spouse who got left” this time around. It would be better for her image going forward if she could play the I left him card (and let’s be real Ryan will be fine if he’s seen as the one who got left and we all know jt) so what happens? She deletes him off her posts and reels first this time. She follows a few divorce and coparent pages that especially paint her fellow co parent in a bad light and her as the perfect partner and victim. And then she unfollows him. And just like that she now gets to say she left him. He doesn’t care because again he’ll be fine and he’s finally free. Was his ss that outed him an accident? Idk. Part of me says yes but part of me says no. There have been rumors around him and that subject for years at this point so it wasn’t a big shock to a lot of people. More just like a confirmation. And now going forward he can be more free with it if he wants and it won’t be a big deal because oh hey everyone already saw that ss. But what that ss did also do, It gave her what she needed to fully lean into the “wife scorned and reasons to leave him” narrative I feel she insisted on this time around. She relied a lot on Ryan’s fans and with them separated that’s gone. They aren’t gonna stick around for her. So what does that leave her? Fan’s she manages to makes on her own, and falling back on her gun range fans, the more conservative fans, and the religious fans. And being able to play the I left my husband because he was toxic and not straight locks those three particular groups right into place where she needs them.

⬆️🎤💯👏👀

[teenandbeyond]

I just had an idea. Senku x fem reader where they play strip poker together and it ends in smut 👀

Senku x Fem. Reader

I actually had this idea forever ago and forgot about it, you made me want to dig it up. Edit: Gender isn't really specified, so anyone could read.

Want more from me? Master List 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧪Strip Tease🧪 (Dr. Stone)

Warning(s): Old Writing(didn't edit, idk what this is), never played poker ever, Smut, idk really, childhood friends till adulthood changed things

When you practice strip poker with Senku...it turns into you practicing other things...

✨✨✨✨

“Did you really need me to practice with you?” Senku grumbled from his seat.

“Well, I needed someone who wouldn’t care. I could’ve asked Taiju, but he likes Yuzuriha so I’m not even gonna bother him with that. That left you.”

“Don’t you have those other lame friends?”

You muttered a reply as you got out the cards to shuffle them, “Exactly, lame. They pretend when it’s convenient. Since I’m playing with them tomorrow anyway, I might as well learn how beforehand-- Besides, they’re either desperate to see me naked or would be too embarrassed, I’d probably leave early.”

“I don’t see the problem with it. It’s just being naked.”

Your eyes finally flickered up to him, “Exactly why I picked you—What’re you risking first?”

“You know the rules?”

“Mhm. Choose.”

“Watch.”

You dealt five cards for each of you, “I pick my jacket. Winner doesn’t have to remove anything.”

You kept your five cards, while Senku decided to exchange two from his hand.

“You sure you don’t want to exchange any cards?” he smirked.

“I got a pretty good deal, so I’m good.”

“Alright then, hit me.”

With a victrious grin you smack down your hand, “Flush. Beat that!”

His smirk didn’t drop as he carelessly tossed his hand onto the table, “Four of a Kind.”

“Wha—”

“Don’t you have a jacket to get rid of, [Name]?”

You sighed, slowly taking it off, “Yeah, yeah. All right, let’s try this again…”

You dealt the next hand, Senku simply exchanged one card.

Feeling betrayed from last time, you decided to exchange two cards.

“I doubt you’re going to win this time, so I’ll bet my shirt,” Senku held his poker face.

But unfortunately for him, you had a very good hand.

“I’ll bet my shirt, too. Go for it, Senku.”

“Three of a Kind.”

A chuckle bubbled from you, “Straight.”

He sighed, dejected and began to unbutton his shirt.

You found yourself watching in anticipation as the last button was undone, swallowing as it rolled off his shoulders and to back of his seat.

He was actually much more defined than you anticipated, considering he seemed like a weakling most of the time.

“...[Name].”

You must have zoned out, “I—Uh—Huh?”

He raised a brow, “Are you dealing, or what?”

“Oh…Oh! Right…”

You did your best to avoid looking, so you wouldn’t find yourself staring again.

“I'll bet my watch,” Senku leaned back to watch you.

You tried to not notice the way he unconsciously spread his legs, fortunately the table blocked most of the view.

“My shirt again,” you informed.

After dealing, you showed your hands again.

He’d won this round.

Now that it was reality, you were a little flustered at the idea of being half naked in front of him.

Mainly due to the little, itty-bitty, tiny, minuscule crush you had on him.

That was actually far from any of those things.

Then you reminded yourself, Senku doesn’t think anything of it.

He wouldn’t be attracted, so it didn’t matter, right?

You took a deep breath as your played with the hem of your shirt, before tugging it over your head.

It was a shame you missed his expression while your vision was obstructed.

“…Looks like you’re losing.”

You scoffed, “Please, we just started. You may be a science wiz, but games are my territory.”

“Watch.”

“Pants.”

You had a great hand, so great there was no way Senku had the only hand that could beat it.

“You’re done for, Senku!”

“Straight Flush? Not bad.”

Your brows furrowed, “Why don’t you seem worried?”

A cackle passed his lips, which made your eyes go wide.

“There’s no way!”

He tossed his hand onto the table top, a dark smirk taking over his expression, “What was that about games being your territory, [Name]? Because I just won this, Ten Billion percent.”

A Royal Flush.

Your body warmed in embarrassment as your eyes flickered down to your pants.

You’d have to take them off in front of Senku.

“Rules are rules…”

You dragged the pants down your legs and tossed them to the side where your shirt laid.

Now you felt a little embarrassed for your underwear choices, since it was only you who saw what you wore, you tended to wear really cute sets.

But when your gaze trailed from your thighs to the man in front of you…you were caught by his stare.

Why was it so intense?

Why was is so quiet?

Why couldn’t you... look away?

And why…why was it affecting your body?

“[Name].”

The sudden deepening of his voice sent a jolt through you.

“Yes?”

“You know, considering I got the best hand anyone could possibly get…don’t you think it qualifies for the rest of your clothing, too?”

“Uh—Huh? But I’d be n-naked…”

“Isn’t that the point?—What happened to not caring?”

Well, it’s hard not to care when he’s looking at you like that.

“I—well…”

“[Name]…are you nervous?” he teased.

You decided to hide your face, and hide your top half using the table considering the view he had wasn’t great under it.

But he simply just pushed the table to the side, the dragging of the table legs morbidly dramatic to you.

“What’re you hiding for? It’s not a big deal.”

In replacement, you placed your feet in the chair, using your legs to hide a little.

But that only made things worse, his gaze dragged lower and lower before they focused in between your legs.

His expression was one of amusement, while yours was more timid…now he knew everything.

He leaned back in his chair far too casually again, legs yet again spreading unconsciously.

Or perhaps it was intentional this time, you didn’t know.

He leaned his head on his knuckles, silver watch shining due to the light above.

“I haven’t touched you yet and you already gave me a visible reaction.”

Your body warmed more, but most of it was more focused in one area.

“Yet…?”

“I must admit, I came with pure intentions, but I don’t think I’m leaving the same way I came.”

Gloved hands teased you everywhere they went.

“You’re like a little science experiment,” he chuckled.

You were completely breathless, “Sen—kah!”

“I had a few hypotheses to test. They seem to be going well so far.”

The black gloves touched every inch of skin he could as you sat on his spread legs.

The contrast of his black slacks and latex gloves gave you butterflies.

“Why did you have to be a scientist?” you groaned.

He knew all the right places, curse those books, curse the internet.

Then his fingers, finally, finally touched you where you wanted.

He rubbed against the damp cloth, “We should take these off, hm?”

You swore his voice right in your ear was affecting you in an entirely different way.

“We should.”

A gasp, as he tears away a glove to please you with bare skin.

Eyes rolling back as he’s pounding you into the table a few minutes later.

A whimper as his gloved hand explores your back and trails to your behind.

Your voice cracks, as you cheek rubs against the surface, the last card clinging to the table finally fluttering to the floor.

“Been wanting to do this so long,” was all he could grit out, “You’ve got me thinking all irrationally for you…”

Muttering praises in between his thrusts, mumbling how you’re such a good test subject.

And, oh, how beautiful you were, how cute, which tempted him to turn you around and kiss you.

It was so intense, so careful, and there seemed to possibly even be love there.

“Senku…”

“You’re not playing this game with them tomorrow. Not that’d you’d be able to walk anywhere far tomorrow, anyway…”

[detectivehannibal]

Desk Dreams

__

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut...lol have fun.

A/N: Testing my smut writing skills I see...I tried to weasel Will into this, but I’d hardly consider this a Will oneshot. I struggled so hard with this smh.

Requested by: @no-homo-hank

Prompt: also.. if i may request something sm*tty. personally i think your writing is so good. soo maybe something in his office yk yk like if the reader has a *sexy* dream about him,, and she has to tell him,, idk idk and only if you’re comfortable with it ofc! thanks :)

Word Count: 1,697

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?”

__

You couldn’t get it out of your head. The images, the sounds, the touches, the smells. You had tried to shake it off all morning. You had brewed an extra strong cup of coffee hoping to rid your conscious of the less than appropriate dream from the night before, but to no avail. You never really had dreams, and you especially didn’t have such scandalous ones. On top of that, you definitely never had sex dreams about your therapist. 

Sure, you found him attractive in more ways than just his striking intelligence. However, the thought of anything that wasn’t purely professional had never crossed your mind. You knew what Hannibal thought about dreams. He had mentioned to you before that they are often a crucial tell-tale of a person’s mental state most of the time. That was the part you couldn’t figure out.

What did having such a racy dream mean for you?

You pondered the thought on your way to your session. You desperately wished that you didn’t have to go today, but you knew you’d be questioned about it next session if you canceled. You entered his office’s waiting room, there were no other patients at that time. You weren’t surprised, considering most people tried to push for the afternoon appointments. You took your normal seat, knowing that Dr. Lecter and Will Graham would be finished shortly. Will Graham’s appointments were always before yours, and you always noted how Will always looked as if his brain had been completely picked apart when he exited.

You often wondered what sort of things they talked about.

Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later, Hannibal seeing Will out of his office. 

“I will see you soon, Will.” Hannibal said to Will, who had pretty much already ended the conversation. 

Will spotted you waiting and actually offered a smile. He didn’t know you outside of the waiting room, but well enough to know your name and speak to you.

“Hello, [Y/N],” He greeted, leaning in slightly; “He’s acting strangely today.” He whispered.

You gave him a confused look, but returned the greeting before he dashed off and out of the building. What did he mean by “acting strangely”? There was only one way to find out. 

“[Y/N], are you ready?” Hannibal asked, inviting you into his office.

You nodded, entering swiftly. When you passed by him, a familiar scent enriched your nose. The smell of his cologne was exquisite and suddenly sparked your memory of the dream from the night before. So that was what you smelled in the dream. You had never paid attention to it before. 

Speaking of the dream, it was suddenly all you could think about. You sat in one of his chairs, immediately striking Hannibal as out of character. He decided to hold off on mentioning it yet. 

“Good morning. How are you?” He asked, sitting in the chair in front of you.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you found yourself in a trance, raking over his features. Had his hair always been so nice? Were his eyes always so enticing? You caught his gaze, waiting for you to give an answer.

“Huh? Oh! I’m doing well.” You said, beginning to feel a heat creep over your cheeks.

His hand briefly went up to his collar to readjust his tie. You basically stopped yourself from salivating. His hands were...so perfect. 

“You’re nervous.” He announced.

You denied. You denied hard. You would not let him through to you today. You’d die of embarrassment.

“Nope. Not nervous,” You said, visibly nervous; “What makes you say that?”

His expression was calculating. He was soaking you up like a sponge to sink water, taking everything in to be squeezed out again.

“For starters, you’re sitting. You usually walk around during our sessions,” He noted; “Secondly, your entire demeanor is tense.” 

Your leg stopped bouncing and you slowly stood from your chair, you began to try and walk as you normally did, but it ended up being more of a pace. 

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?” You asked as casually as possible.

He looked so good in that light blue shirt. 

“No, but there’s always a reason for such change.” He bantered.

You shot him a look. It was hard to get anything past him. 

“I just...” You tried to come up with an excuse, but turned up short. 

He waited patiently, his gaze never leaving yours. You sighed in defeat. 

“Dreams are normal, right?” You asked, preparing to bite the bullet.

He nodded simply.

“Certainly.” 

You chewed your lip in thought, careful with how you approached this. You fiddled with the hem of your sweater.

“I had a rather interesting dream last night,” You confessed; “It wasn’t anything I had ever experienced.”

He was listening intently, not quite following what you were getting at.

“What did you dream about?” He prompted.

You felt a sudden rise in your throat. This was painful to admit.

“Well, you were in me- uh, I mean...in it.” You said, mentally cursing at yourself for your embarrassing slip up.

A wave of realization was clear on his face as he connected the dots. You wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die.

“[Y/N], I can assure you that sexual fantasy dreams are quite normal.” He said in an attempt to comfort you.

You groaned miserably, burying your face in your hands. You were humiliated. You’d have to request a different therapist. Maybe even seek out a totally different counseling practice.

“Dreams often must be explored to be understood. Tell me more about the content of this dream.” He requested calmly.

Your blood went hot. What? Why did he want to know that? You looked to him, surprised to see that he was completely serious. You rubbed your palms together nervously.

“I came in for my usual session. The energy was different. You were looking at me in a way you don’t usually,” You explained; “The conversation took a turn and...we had sex.”

His expression remained unchanged, but you weren’t close enough yet to see the fire in his eyes. He stood from his seat and took slow strides over towards you. You were sure he could hear your thumping heart.

“How was I looking at you?” He questioned, his voice thick and smooth.

That’s when you saw the riled up glaze in his eyes. A sudden wave of emotion and arousal crashed over you. This was really going to happen.

“Just like you are now.” You breathed out.

Instantly, his lips were on yours. Passionate and needy, but steady and calculated too. His hands gripped your waist, pushing you towards his desk. He shimmied you onto the cool, dark wood and allowed you to remove his suit blazer. 

Your mind was racing, but your movements were faster. You untucked his dress shirt from his pants while his fingertips worked on unbuttoning your jeans. It was a hot, heavy silence as the two of you stripped down enough to get the job done. His mouth was hot on your neck once your pants were casted aside, sucking a hickey on your most sensitive spot. 

“Dr. Lecter, I...” You trailed off, your mind too clouded with pleasure to offer any kind of sentence.

This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. You were thankful for patient-doctor confidentiality. 

“Hannibal.” He corrected, unbuckling his belt and getting his pants down to his ankles.

Woah. First name basis. That was new. Hannibal really seemed to know his way around a woman. You found that rather shocking.

“Is this your means of dream exploration?” You joked, giving a breathy laugh.

“Something like that.” He replied.

He pulled himself from his boxers, stroking a few times before gingerly pushing himself inside of you. A synchronized moan drew from the both of you as he pushed through your walls, traveling as deep as he could go. He pushed your back down onto the desk, watching you sprawl out desperately for him.

He began with slow thrusts to allow you to adjust to his length, but hit the sweetest of spots each time he went back in. He grasped one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist so he could get a better angle. He had one hand on your throat, wrapped firmly but not uncomfortably. 

“Hannibal, please. Faster.” You begged, your tone coming out as a whine.

He hummed in response, his pace beginning to pick up. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as the sounds of skin and rattling desk objects echoed in your ears. He admired the way your eyes glassed over in pleasure, his own forehead beginning to break out into a sweat. 

“Was this how your dream played out?” He asked, the slightest bit of strain in his voice; “On my desk...in the middle of a session.”

You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.” He ordered, slamming back into you again.

“Yes.” You groaned out.

“Good girl.” He praised, moving his pace even faster.

This wasn’t how he’d usually pleasure a woman. He preferred something a little more timed out and slow, but you needed something spontaneous and fast. He could feel it radiating off of you. Your mind bounced back and forth from the dream to this present moment. This was too good to be true.

Your legs tightened around his waist, signaling to him that you were awfully close. He himself felt a twitch, looks like you were going to both finish on time. He continued to pound into you, your moans relentlessly sounding out into the air. Your high-pitched, surprised gasp alerted your release, his own spilling out just a few moments later. 

Your moans and sounds dwindled into heavy breathing, your chests heaving to catch up. He collapsed onto your shaky frame, your hand resting in his hair. You could barely comprehend what had just happened. You suddenly had a whole new reason to come to therapy. Hannibal lifted his head, pride written all over his face.

“I think...we’ll pick this back up next week.��

[grewlikefancyflowers]

“Wwx kills and tortures” the only ppl he ever tortured was WC WZL and WLJ because why tf would he waste his time torturing random soldiers he gives no fucks about it isn’t practical nor fun or interesting lol he had every right to torture those 3 bc of what they did to him other than that WWX is just like any other soldier during that war, the fact that he was stronger and could defeat more people in less time and with less effort than the rest doesn’t make him immoral it makes him the only reason everyone else came out alive and won the war. Idk who tf came out with the head canon of WWX enjoying torture when literally the three antagonists are the ones who love torture and are portrayed as trash to emphasize the fact that WWX is the opposite of them 🙄

MDZS is a setting where violence as revenge is pretty standard, even condoned, as long as it's proportional. WWX’s actions themselves aren’t necessarily presented as wrong. And I can’t believe I have to say this but this doesn’t mean I am personally cool with torture askjfsdkj some personal/modern standards cannot be applied to a setting that is so far removed from our own.

Here is a neat little quote from XXC - '“Chang CiAn broke one of your fingers in the past. If you sought revenge, you could’ve simply broken one of his fingers as well. If you really took the matter to heart, you could’ve broken two, or even all ten! Even if you had cut off an entire arm of his, things wouldn’t have been like this. Why did you have to kill his entire clan? Don’t tell me that a single finger of yours was equal to more than fifty human lives!”' (Ch.41)

Reminder that XXC is presented as a standard good & noble character. He’s not m*rally gr*y.

WC, etc, had massacred the entirety of LP, including little kids, and thrown WWX into BM, not only leaving him to die but keeping his soul trapped there as well. What WWX did wasn’t disproportionate to what was done to him.

As for WWX’s handling of the Wen armies in the SSC, I think some people would argue that his method of raising the dead to kill their own families is a form of torture, which is a take I guess I don’t necessarily disagree with ?? But I wouldn’t say this method was impractical, I think it has the very useful effect of making WWX’s opponents unwilling to fight back against the corpses of their own family or sect members. It’s brutal and efficient!

Even though what WWX did to them wasn’t necessarily undeserved, and it was undeniably very cool and sexy of him; WWX himself doesn’t feel too great about it. It is referred to* as ‘almost cruel ways of venting his anger’# (Ch.75). And of course, there’s that quote that this fandom seems to take as complete condemnation from WWX that everything he did in his past life was wrong 🙄 - ‘Even when he, himself, thought about it afterward, he felt that he had done a bit too much.’ (Ch.66)

I’ve spoken about this before in this post here - even though WWX is a little meow meow that did nothing wrong, his actions in what he did to WC, WLJ and others during the SSC aren't things that I think we as readers are necessarily supposed to support. Actually ig this is similar to how I think of JZX's death - obviously we're not supposed to support it, but it isn't an objective wrong either.

Something that all the antagonists in MDZS seem to share is this issue of taking their grievances too far, stewing in their own resentment - JGY, XY, JC, even that guy from the Gatecrashing extra. WWX doesn’t go down this path, while ultimately I’d say he doesn’t cross over that line, he does toe pretty close to it.

-

*Actually, I’m rethinking this point. I did consider this to be WWX condemning his own actions as cruel and, more importantly, a way of venting his own grievances, but the full quote is

'In the past, it wasn’t that he couldn’t tell how most of the Wen Sect’s people here were all somewhat scared of him.

They had all heard of the ruthless reputation he had during the Sunshot Campaign, the almost cruel ways of venting his anger that so many talked about. They had seen with their own eyes how he used corpses to kill others as well. In the first few days, Granny Wen’s legs began to shake whenever she saw him. Wen Yuan always hid behind her too. They only started to approach him after some time had passed.'

The references to WWX being ruthless and cruel are framed as other people's words. Whereas what the Wen remnants had seen with their own eyes is described very neutrally. After actually spending some time with WWX, they realise he's not scary at all. So... does WWX think of what he did as cruel, and are we supposed to really think the same? Maybe not.

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Texts from The Lost Tomb, part 3

I didn’t mean for this to stray into angst but like the lack of updates with Li Cu in LTR?? I had to do it to em.

Wushanju Crew Chat, 11:05pm

Li Cu: what’s up losers I’m outside

Li Cu: someone come on and open the damn door

Wang Meng: Language:(

Li Cu: fine, someone come on and open the damn door please

Snake Eyes Chat, 7:00am

Wu Xie: hey are you awake? Sorry I missed you coming in:) was finishing up some work. How was the end of your first semester? Did that geology paper go well? Did the food budget work out or do you need some extra money next semester?

Li Cu: yeah about your work

Li Cu: heard a little rumor

Li Cu: about you going through some stuff during ur recent trip

Li Cu: some stuff you maybe forgot to mention

Li Cu: and you told me we gotta check in with stuff, so this is me checking in, okay

Wu Xie: oh? What stuff?

Li Cu: idk just like

Li Cu: THE STUFF WITH YOU ALMOST FUCKING DYING FOR FUCKING MONTHS AND THE WAREHOUSE SHIT AND ERJING AND PEOPLE HURT YOU AND WHAT THE FUCK IS A THUNDER CITY AND NOONE FUCKING CALLED ME ABT THOSE PARTS ONCE

Wu Xie: oh. That stuff.

Li Cu: yeah asshat I’m in the kitchen whenever you’re ready to explain your fucking bullshit. Also you’re out of milk wtf how am I supposed to make breakfast here

Main Chat, 11:14am

Wu Xie: okay so it’s possible I fucked up a little bit.

Wang Pangzi: THERES JUST SO MUCH YOU COULD BE REFERRING TO I DONT KNOW WHERE TO START

Zhang Qiling: What’s wrong?

Honorary Wu Chat, 11:30am

Wang Pangzi: KID IM SO SORRY THAT PUNK IS A TRAINWRECK BUT YOU KNEW THAT

Wang Meng: Welcome home, Li Cu <3 not much has changed, ultimately.

Wang Pangzi: IT DIDNT EVEN OCCUR TO ME THAT HE WOULDNT TELL YOU EVERYTHING ABOUT IT ONCE THE REST OF US FIGURED IT OUT

WAIT HOW DID YOU FIND OUT

Li Cu: it’s okay. not your fault, uncle. Doesn’t matter how I found out. Wait wait hold on what do you mean “the rest of us figured it out” who figured it out

Wang Pangzi: SAY HELLO LIU SANG

Liu Sang: …hello.

Wang Pangzi: SAY MORE THAN THAT.

Liu Sang: uh…so you’re Wu Xie’s protégé, huh?

Li Cu: oh well howdy there homewrecker

Liu Sang: Excuse me??

Zhang Qiling: I think someone on the roof is calling me and I should go find out.

Wang Meng: I would also very much like to be removed from this conversation.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHAHA KIDDO IVE MISSED YOU

Li Cu: all I’m saying is aren’t you the little creep who’s obsessed with Xiao Ge

Liu Sang: ???

Zhang Qiling: Li Cu is referring to a brief period of irrational thought on Wu Xie’s part, where he mistakenly believed you to be a threat to our relationship.

Liu Sang: what do you mean a threat??

Wang Pangzi: WHAT DO YOU MEAN TIANZHEN HAD “A BRIEF PERIOD OF IRRATIONAL THOUGHT”

YOUVE MET YOUR HUSBAND RIGHT

Wang Meng: can you please take me off this chat.

Liu Sang: Wait, so Wu Xie told you about me, but…reading between the lines, he didn’t mention the cancer or anything bad that happened? Oh yikes.

Li Cu: don’t change the subject “Liu Sang”

if that is your real name

Like yeah you’re right abt it but still

just saying

heard you got good ears but I’ve got snake powers

kinda

so like no more funny business okay you superhearing harlot

Wang Meng: LANGUAGE, LI CU. IN THIS HOUSE WE SHOW GOOD MANNERS.

Wang Pangzi: LMAO OH DO WE NOW

Zhang Qiling: Li Cu, this is all unnecessary and childish. Please apologize.

Li Cu: you say that now bruh but apparently you weren’t complaining when he was all “idol this” and “idol that”

oh and hey Wang Meng while we’re here can I show you my business class grade report later bc Wu Xie is all “what matters is that you learned and enjoyed the experience” blah blah all eat pray love you know how he gets and I want to actually discuss areas to improve so that when I take over this joint I do better than Wu Xie? Tho that shouldnt be hard lol

Wang Meng: hurtful but accurate. I’ll bring my best red pen:)

Liu Sang: oh my god. I’m too jetlagged to keep up with any of this.

Wang Pangzi: BEST. DAY. EVER. IM SCREENSHOTTING THIS FOR HEI XIAZI.

Not A Homewrecker Chat, 11:52am

Liu Sang: Okay, we started off on the wrong foot.

Li Cu: I agree let’s start over

Start with how your little prank game almost got ppl killed

Liu Sang: And I seriously regret that. But we moved past that.

Wow, he seriously skipped over so much bullshit but didn’t skimp on mine, huh.

Li Cu: AHA so you ADMIT IT

Liu Sang: I’d like to think I’ve grown since then. That I’ve come to see Xiao Ge as a person and mentor, rather than an idol. I count Pangzi and Wu Xie as my close friends. I’m going to be staying here with them right now, I hope you can be okay with that.

Li Cu: see in my head you were going to be a lot less mature about it and I had a bunch of great follow-up insults planned

Liu Sang: I figured. I’d like us to be friends, though. Or at least not enemies.

Li Cu: okay but only bc you don’t know me yet so you won’t judge too much for this and I need to get this out to somebody I’ve been thinking about it for hours and my friends are still in finals and I’m stressing a little bit maybe

Liu Sang: ?

Li Cu: I yelled at dad

*Wu Xie sorry autocorrect

Liu Sang: …uh huh.

Li Cu: I yelled at him earlier. for keeping all that stuff from me. He started crying

Liu Sang: Wu Xie has been pretty emotional since we got back. Not necessarily your fault.

Li Cu: I made him cry right there at the kitchen sink and it felt like maybe the worst thing I’ve ever done

Snake venom and stabbings, no tears

Me saying I wouldn’t have gone to his funeral, all tears

Which I know was shitty to say but I was really mad

Liu Sang: If it’s any consolation, I think Wu Xie can understand the concept of being led by his emotions to make bad decisions…better than most people.

Li Cu: Xiao Ge came in then and looked weird

Like weirder than usual

Like he didn’t know which of us to be more mad at

Liu Sang: A common problem for the iron triangle, I understand.

Li Cu: I just ran out I didn’t have words right then and I feel stupid

but whenever they come back from their walk I’m gonna say sorry and stuff bc i could’ve come home to his funeral and I’m mad about it but also like. I could have come home to his funeral. I can get mean when I’m in a freakout mood. It’s not like I was scared or anything at all I don’t get scared really anymore ever but just like. Freaked out.

Liu Sang: He’s probably going to say sorry, too.

Li Cu: sorry I called you a homewrecker. Didn’t mean to slut-shame either

Liu Sang: I admit that after the initial shock, it was pretty funny. Super hearing harlot, it should be on my business card;)

Li Cu: this situation with Wu Xie is weird but kinda good ya know. And I have these freakouts sometimes that something maybe bad could happen to this situation. So consider this a shovel talk. But like, also not a shovel talk at the same time.

also I appreciate you saving his life and whatnot

Liu Sang: Noted. Now. Coffee?

Li Cu: sounds sick.

Be in the kitchen in 10. You can pick out what we watch for the household tv show tonight. no way is Wu Xie choosing some dry documentary about gravestone rubbings again. Pangzi just watches real housewives reruns and Xiao Ge won’t watch tv after he caught the last half hour of A Walk To Remember. Also i need my phone now to send some $ to Hei Xiazi since I owe him for…providing some intel

Liu Sang: Not even surprised.

[padfootastic]

mme propenn pls be so kind and answer 3! 4! 8! and 32!(and how many of those are ao3 is the real question 💀)

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

this is the worst question ever bc i’m terrible with visual media like u can show me anything and i’d probably get bored within a few minutes. the only exceptions are when im in a theater (bc i’ve paid 💀) or when im w friends and have some external focus (also im a terrible person to watch anything w bc im constantly just making comments & shitty jokes hehehe)

but i guess if i had to choose 3, it would be—

- iron man (tony stark is love, tony stark is life)

- sound of music (<33333 so much nostalgia)

- help i’m so confused idk what to do uhhh magadheera bc ram charan is v v hot hehehehe

4. what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

you’ve rly brought out the big guns huh bc i’m so confused about this lol

hmm i guess this one thing i do whenever i’m being sarcastic is put on this terrible valley girl accent where you stretch out all the consonants and act very coy and stuff. always, always gets a giggle out of everyone i talk to bc it’s so exaggerated.

ooh no wait there’s another one! so recently someone asked me something a bit personal about why i didn’t do something and i answered ‘mental health’. conversation closed. since then, we’ve made it this lil joke between ourselves where ‘mental health’ is the reason for anything we do, kind of like a cop out? (imp note: this is said in the same aforementioned accent, complete with a hair flip and wave of the hand)

8. any reacquiring dreams?

oof, yes. so many. but most i can’t remember. see, i’m a huge, huge dreamer. like i love sleeping and i can go for hooooooours at a time (my record is like,,,20 at a stretch. i’m v proud) and i always end up dreaming, even if it’s a quick power nap in class or a car lol

i think one i get very often is like,,,free falling? idk why but it always leaves me w a fun adrenaline rush & a weird leg spasm that always creeps others out lol. i also tend to lucid dream quite a bit (or atleast something resembling it?) so it’s a very choose-your-own-adventure sort of a thing.

also this isn’t…reacquiring exactly but i get very regular dreams about anything i’m currently obsessed with at the moment. and considering i get into (and out of) things v easily, it means i’m dreaming about weird shit like subway surfers or table tennis or a new cigarette quite often lol

32. how many tabs do you have open right now?

oh my god this is where i expose myself 💀💀 see, i’m sure it won’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me but i’m an absolute tab hoarder/fiend. i hate closing them even if it’s the most basic google search in the world so stuff that actually has something of value? no chance until i’m physically forced to do it. like, this one time chrome fucked up and removed all my open tabs and i was so close to tears i cannot tell u.

but yeah, so. open tabs. i use both chrome & safari on my phone and my ipad so lemme just grab the number for you.

phone: 417, chrome. 215, safari.

ipad: 665, safari. 78, chrome.

so uh, that totals to 1375 which um. yeah. clearly i have a bit of a problem but it’s okay, everything’s okay, nothing to look at here, folks 😳

(now how many of these are ao3? god, a lot. but less than before bc i try to do these cold turkey quitting fanfiction situations where i close all the fic tabs and it’s never worked out but i always hold hope it will one day)

From this ask game

[leejeongz]

jealous treasure (hyunsuk-jaehyuk)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅hiii! thanks for requesting. sorry this took so long 😭 i wrote it all and the. decided i didn’t like what i wrote so i had a breakdown and started again. but nevertheless here we are. I hope you like it! i made jihoon’s a little longer since idk he was the one this was based off of🔅

⛱ a/n no. 2 i’m gonna use another member in each one because it’s easier than making up a whole new person and explaining a bit about them for each one if that makes sense. but this is just for fun, it’s fictitious, remember that pls⛱

find the other members here

🪐 hyunsuk:

having never met his closest friends before, you wanted to dress nicely on the day. you grabbed the accessories that you had laid out the night before that went perfectly with your outfit and put them on while admiring how great you looked in the mirror.

upon arriving at the diner, you spotted your boyfriend and his friends sat closely together. you slowly walked over to their booth, not wanting to seem too eager. your boyfriend stood up and flashed you a smile before pointing for you to sit next to a boy dressed in blue and while, who you later found out was named mashiho. you ordered from the menu together and started to chat amongst yourselves.

“so what do you do, y/n?” the boy next to you asked while hyunsuk was distracted.

“i’m a student, but i work part time. actually i work just over the road” you pointed to the sports shop over the way.

“i think i’ve seen you in there before, sorry i didn’t recognise you, you look so different when you’re not wearing their fluorescent uniform,” he smiled, pointing to the bright trainers you now remember selling him a few weeks ago.

“oh that was you?” you laughed loud enough to catch hyunsuk’s attention, who’s smile faded as he glanced at the pair of you bonding “nice taste” you complimented mashiho.

“not as nice as mine though, right?” hyunsuk piped up, while brushing the shoulder of his shirt.

“it’s not a competition” you smiled, awkwardly, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings.

“but if it was…” one of his other friends spoke. you made a mental note that from now on, you hated that guy.

you thought about your response for a while. mashiho looked disinterested, too busy picking the crispiest fries from his plate. your boyfriend, however, looked a little helpless, he was practically begging with his eyes for you to compliment him.

“then i think my boyfriend would win. hyunsuk has better taste than anyone, and i think we can all agree” you rattled on, face burning, knowing that the others around the table thought you were just sucking up to him.

“well of course, i fell for you, baby” hyunsuk winked in your direction while his friends made exaggerated heaving noises at your cringiness as a couple.

🌸 jihoon:

you have the pettiest boyfriend, you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it. he gets jealous even at the tiniest things, but it’s kind of endearing. your graduation was no exception, he really wanted to be happy all afternoon, but seeing you with so many guys hugging you while you cried tears of joy, made him mad, that should be him.

to treat you (and also to show off to everyone that you were his) he took you to the bar in town that you liked the most. you sat down at the table for two and scanned over the menu, wondering why you were even looking, knowing you were going to order the same thing as always. you told jihoon what you wanted as you could see the waiter getting nearer to your table, he always ordered for you when you asked him to.

“y/n” you heard coming from behind you. you turned around to see a familiar face, junghwan, and following behind him, a friend of his that you’d once met in passing.

“i saw that you graduated today! congratulations!” he spoke, indicating that you stand for a hug. meanwhile, jihoon ordered, but not without side eyeing you and this boy.

“can we join a table onto ours please and make it sit 4 people?” you asked the waiter who nodded and did as you requested without a fuss.

jihoon shot you the darkest stare at you sat opposite to him. “our order will be out way before theirs” he snarled quietly.

“it’s fine we can bring them out at the same time” the waiter smiled at him upon hearing your boyfriends petty remark.

“thanks” jihoon replied sarcastically, the smile on his face showing clear signs that the waiter needs to back off now.

“so why are you here?” junghwan asked “you should be going out partying, is he not letting you?” he looked over a jihoon after joking around with you a little.

“there are no parties to go to” you frowned, “but i’d rather spend my days with jihoon, and now you guys, than with my classmates anyway” you bubbled. you looked over once again at your boyfriend, who’s expression was still as stern as when they'd arrived. you kicked at his leg gently and flashed him a warm smile, hoping he’d mimic it and look at least a little genuine with it.

“i’m going to the bathroom, order quickly” jihoon told the pair. you glared at him as he walked off, all while still trying to participate in the conversation. jihoon returned with an obviously fake smile, yet it was an improvement so you went along with it. to your surprise, jihoon had managed to endure 3 drinks before deciding it was time to leave and go home with you, which you were more than happy to do since the bar was getting pretty full. you said your goodbye to the two friends with a small hug, while jihoon watched from the side. “come on” he rolled his eyes as he watched your arms wrap around junghwan’s shoulders.

leaving the bar, jihoon’s hand engulfed yours. “there has got to be some kind of reward for spending 90 minutes with them. oh and for watching all of those other guys hug you” he whispered into your ear “i’m sure you’ll think of something”. he laughed a little and pressed a warm kiss against your cheek. you smirked, knowing the perfect way to show him that you were all his, now almost too eager to get home.

⚡️ yoshi:

“it’s just what we needed” yoshi relaxed back onto the sofa, stretching an arm out to the side and wrapping it around you casually. you threw the remote onto the coffee table and nestled into your boyfriend. today was movie day, a full marathon of romcoms, chosen by you.

the first movie, you cried. the second, you cried again. however, by the third, you’d gotten a little bit bored. you pulled your phone from your back pocket, your fidgeting catching yoshi’s attention.

“hey what’s wrong?” he asked, his question fading as he read your notifications. “why did haruto ring you-“ he paused to check the number “4 times?” he didn’t think too much of it. you guys were friends, your boyfriend just wanted to know the gossip.

you called him back straight away, leaving your boyfriend clueless. he waited patiently as you spoke on the phone. “no way!” you let out with a smile “i’ll be there in a second” you got up, wafting your hand so that yoshi would follow.

“what why?” he stayed put, waiting for a response.

“he said he’s got a surprise for me” you rushed, getting your coat on as quickly as possible. yoshi, once again, sat back in his comfortable position, which you knew meant that he was not moving any time soon.

“but what about our movie day” he whined and sulked. you rolled your eyes knowing he wouldn’t stop for anything, you had to give in. you slowly started removing your jacket, pulling your phone out of the pocket and launching it towards the sofa.

“i’ll just text him and tell him to give it to me, the love of your life, okay?” he continued “gosh he knew it was our day, he should have left us alone instead of distracting you”

you smiled at his hint of jealousy, hoping it wouldn’t be the last you ever saw, because honestly, his mini tantrum was rather cute.

🌟 junkyu:

“what homework is that? what subject?” junkyu shuffled through your sheets of paper over your shoulder with a pout while you worked.

“considering i study japanese i think it would be pretty wild if it was the timeline of the spanish armada, don’t you?” you snapped unexpectedly, you’re not even sure why you said it in the tone you did.

“i was just making conversation” he slumped onto the bed while pulling a face behind your back, only then noticing the familiar young boy on your phone screen. “oh, you’re calling someone, i’ll leave, give you some privacy” he pouted once again, dragging himself from your bed. “clearly i'm not needed here”

you turned to asahi, the boy you were calling, who was generously helping with your work, as he avoided eye contact with you. you stared at the small image of yourself in the corner, biting your lip with guilt.

“i’m sorry junkyu, i didn’t mean to snap” you admitted, throwing your head into your hands as soon as the words left your mouth. you’d be kind of stressed lately with all the learning, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on your boyfriend, you thought.

“it’s okay, you shouldn’t be nice to me when your handsome tutor is calling, i understand” he rolled his eyes and tutted with a hint of exaggeration. it didn’t take long for him to register what had just happened though, as a few seconds later you felt his arms wrap around you from the back and a gentle kiss placed on top of your head. he turned off the call and whispered an almost silent “sorry”.

“i only called him to help with this one passage.”

“you don’t need to explain to me. but why didn’t you ask me for help?” he blew his cheeks up and pouted in a way that was even bigger than before. “i'm really good at japanese” he boasted

“junkyu, sweetie, next time maybe” you giggled, finally regaining the power to sit up again slightly. “but your jealousy was kinda cute, so maybe i will call mashiho next time”

“don’t even think about it” he hushed you in a harsh, yet sarcastic tone.

☀️ mashiho:

it was pretty rare that mashiho got jealous, or that he told you/showed you that he was at least. you and doyoung actually spent a lot of time together these days and your boyfriend never seemed to mind so you never stopped. but little did you know, he’d just about reached breaking point. he was tired of you “not being able to meet up with him” because you’d already made arrangements with doyoung to do something. he wanted to do those things with you.

“where are you going? you don’t usually dress like that on a sunday?” he questioned as you headed towards the door.

“i told you, doyoung and i are gonna watch that movie today. i can’t go in my pjs” you replied.

“oh with doyoung, i should have guessed” he rolled his eyes, leaning back against the sofa. he pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to text one of his friends once again to ask if they wanted to do something.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you turned your head back to look at him. he looked hot like that, but you didn’t think right now was the time to bring it up.

“you’re always doing things with him. would it be so wrong if you went and watched a movie with me?” he asked as you walked towards him, ready to hug him and apologise. you thought for a moment, realising that you had been spending more time with doyoung than your own boyfriend, but was it really all that bad? you sat besides him and placed his phone on the sofa so he had nothing to do other than talk to you about this.

“so i can’t see my friends?” you snapped back at him in a higher pitch, even though he wasn’t shouting at you. his eyes softened and his right eye filled with tears, shortly followed by his left. you refused to look at him, half in anger, half in shame.

“that’s not what i meant, you know that. just go, have fun” he ran his hand down your arm while you sat in silence. it really was that bad. you didn’t want to be THAT couple who never did anything together.

“do you want to come with?” you smiled.

“maybe, only if we, you and i, can go bowling afterwards, alone” he replied as if he was still mad.

“of course!” you exclaimed, it was an offer you couldn't refuse. upon hearing your response, mashiho grabbed your hand, leading you to his room which was full of clothes.

“now, which tshirt matches with yours the best?” he hummed.

❄️ jaehyuk:

more than the party itself, wayyy more than the party itself, you enjoyed having your friends over beforehand to get ready and vibe with. tonight you expected only your boyfriend but he ended up bringing along another friend too, yedam, who you were actually pretty close to, he even introduced you to jaehyuk in the first place.

both had gotten changed pretty quickly in the bathroom while you slipped into your outfit in your bedroom. you were just applying a layer of lipstick when you heard a knock at the door.

“can i come in?” yedam asked.

you shouted a “yes” and he did so. his outfit was all black except for the flannel he’d thrown on, his hair was a little messy and his boots were untied.

“look at my nails” he smiled brightly, offsetting his outfit perfectly. “i just painted them so they’re wet, and jaehyuk is doing his business in there. can you tie my shoes for me, please?” he begged. you agreed and offered your chair as a place for him to put his shoe. “tight trousers” he shrugged, leaving you with no other option but to get down on the floor and tie them, it was a good job it was yedam, you thought.

“get up” jaehyuk’s voice could be heard from a mile away, despite how softly spoken he is. you stood up and looked over at him with wide eyes “oh i thought you were proposing” he laughed, playing the whole thing off as a joke. “let me, i don’t want your outfit to get dirty, which might i add looks extremely good, honey” he complimented while getting down on the floor to tie his friends' laces.

“yoon jaehyuk, are you jealous?” you smirked, looking over at yedam, who was smiling too.

“no, i just don’t want your outfit to get messed up, i just said that” he lied once again. “but if you were proposing yeah, i think i’d be pretty jealous” he continued.

[ironwoman359]

Completely agree on nagas being underutilized and having a ton of potential. Both as the whumpee and the whumper….

So now I have to know. Which do you prefer…(and maybe why…talk whumpy to me lol)

Naga whumper? Or naga whumpee…

cw: whump, captivity, dehumanization, possessiveness, abuse, torture, angst with little to no comfort

Oh, I am delighted you asked, friend...it's not like I just did a bunch of research on snake health for a bad things happen bingo fic* with a naga whumpee....it's not like doing so gave me MANY more ideas than I was able to fit into that one story...and its not like I have many thoughts on how nagas could fit into the traditional creature whump tropes (that I also was reading and rereading for 'research' while writing We Blankly Stare). This is going under a cut, because, like all my fics, it got longer than I meant it to. (also, to my regular followers who aren't into heavy whump, don't mind me as I go off on a tangent into a totally different fic community; you can skip this one if you need to; at the very least mind the content warnings <3)

SO, nagas. Beautiful creatures. Like centaurs, 'human' on the top and snake on the bottom. SO much lovely whump potential, either as whumpers or whumpees, but lets focus on the whumpee side for now. In no particular order...

Pet Whump:

Decorative collars set with jewels that compliment the pattern of their highly polished scales and delicate gold chains weaving their way along their body, equal parts jewelry and restraint. They are highly prized, beautiful things, and what is the point of owning one if not to show it off?

Inviting a crowd to come and watch them feed, demonstrating their dislocating jaws and sharp fangs as they toss rodents to them whole. Bonus angst points if raw meat actually makes your naga whumpee sick, or they can eat raw meat but cooked is better. Just because they look like a snake doesn't mean they eat like one

Is your naga whumpee poisonous? Have their owner remove their fangs or poison glands, leaving them utterly dependent on them for food (and utterly helpless if they do ever manage to escape)

Nagas bred in captivity, so the only life they've ever known is one of imprisonment. Do they even consider freedom as something attainable? Or do their owners have them convinced that they're better off like this?

Lab Whump:

Nagas that are actually human/snake hybrids created in laboratory experiments just to see if it was possible.

Nagas who are kept in order to produce venom, what the venom is for could be anything!

Nagas 'enhanced' with mind and/or body altering drugs or magic to serve in the military as the perfect warrior

Nags used for experiments and drug tests because they are seen as less than human

Torture Whump:

As is the case with most torture whump, the 'why' the whumpee is being tortured isn't really important here. Maybe they have information the whumper wants, maybe the whumper is trying to get revenge or hurt whumpee's team, maybe they're just cruel. This isn't really about the 'why' so much as it is the specific 'hows' that having a whumpee who is part snake provides.

Pulling/cutting off scales, pulling out or filing down fangs, clipping or tearing off claws (a creature whump classic)

Naga specific (this is more of a lizard thing than a snake thing, but nagas aren’t real, we make the rules here!) body part removal: cutting off the tail! It doesn’t matter that it grows back, it still hurts every time. (or maybe the tail doesn’t grow back, and the naga is left unable to ‘walk’ properly)

Rough iron collars around their neck attached to a ball and chain, bonus points if the length of the chain prevents them from rising to their usual 'standing' height.

Hang them from the ceiling with cuffs and chains by their tails; upside down, right-side up, however you choose!

My those snake bodies are long...I wonder how long they can stretch?

I have one word for you: thermoregulation. Reptiles cannot regulate their own body heat, they are dependent on their environment. This gives us a whole HOST of reptile-specific torture techniques:

temperature shock: dump them in freezing water or spray them with a high-pressure hose. Unpleasant for any kind of whumpee, for the naga whumpee this has the added bonus of being fatal very quickly if they aren't warmed up.

It's not good for a snake to be too HOT either, they need to cool their bodies off just as often as they need to warm them up (don't quote me precisely on that, snake tumblr). A whumper who keeps their naga under bright, hot lights nearly constantly so they're dehydrated, covered in blisters, and/or always feverish (can a naga get a fever? idk, up to you. snakes don't, but snakes don't have human torsos. we can be wishy washy with health issues)

So extreme heat and extreme cold are bad, but did you know that (while it's breed specific) most snakes lose its ability to thermoregulate at around 70 degrees Fahrenheit? When their body temperature drops below this (but not so low that we're in hypothermia territory), their movements are sluggish, they cannot/will not eat, and it is very easy for them to develop infections, scale rot, all sorts of problems. Does the whumper keep them in low temperatures to make them weak and pliable in their hands, easy to control? Does the whumper use these conditions as a punishment for bad behavior? Or give reprieve from them as a reward for good behavior? There’s just SO much that can be done with temperature alone! It’s one of the things that sets nagas apart from other creatures and THAT is one of the most criminally underused aspects, in my oh so humble opinion!

Other Fun Concepts:

Nagas with their tails trapped under rubble, unable to pull themselves free.

Nagas kept in a cage that's far too small for them, their body wrapped up so tightly they can barely move.

Did you know that when a snake's body temperature is too low, it can't digest its food? And that if it does eat something and then doesn't have the energy to digest it properly, it will either instinctually regurgitate that food back up or run the risk of the food literally rotting in its stomach? Take this knowledge into literally any of the pet or torture scenarios and you have some A+ snake specific whump

Tiny nagas! Like the western hognose snake or the ringneck snake, these little guys can fit in the palm of your hand! Apply literally any previously listed scenario to your tiny naga for instant fantasy g/t whump! also vore...that's not my scene but it was one of like, two things i found while looking for naga whump on tumblr earlier, so I feel obligated to mention it.

Giant nagas, YOU can fit in THEIR hands. Does that make them the whumper, or still the whumpee? You decide!

Water nagas! combine mer whump with naga whump and you’ve got a water snake to hurt!

Nagas with scale rot, respiratory infections, kinks in their spine, or other snake health issues, either from mistreatment from a whumper or natural causes.

As you can tell, I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, lol. I hope you enjoyed, and if anyone writes anything based off these, I’d love to see it! Also, HAVE I been considering making a whump sideblog for awhile? yes. Did writing this post convince me to finally do it? Also yes. So I'll be over at @ironwhumper359 if you'd like to talk more whump with me, I’d be delighted to have you :)

*if you would like to read said bad things happen bingo fic, know that while it is labelled Sanders Sides, because that’s the fandom I mainly write it, the first chapter only has one character from the series in it and is honestly much more of an original whump piece than it is a fanfic. The second and third chapters are more fandom specific (though you’re of course still welcome to read them even if you’re not a sanders sides fan), but that first one can be read as stand-alone whump!

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

[phoenixyfriend]

Mangekyo Mikoto

Okay, so, concept time:

Due to a coincidence of scheduling and also just Being Pushy About It, Mikoto ends up on Kushina's protection detail during the Kyuubi Attack

Is heavily injured but not fatally so (I'm thinking spinal damage?), and is unable to save Kushina, blames herself, develops Mangekyo as a result.

Due to her heavy injuries in defense of Kushina and Minato, and her development of Mangekyo in response to Kushina's death, people are a little hard-pressed to argue that she or the Uchiha as a clan were responsible for the attack. The Clan Head’s Wife (and I’m in camp ‘Fugaku married into the position, Mikoto was the actual heir and they passed over the role because Fugaku liked paperwork more) nearly died, okay, if an Uchiha was responsible, then it was a rogue.

Ergo: Mikoto gets custody of Naruto, as godmother who is not currently under suspicion of, you know, causing the whole bullshit in the first place.

Having Mangekyo also means she has some argument in place that if the Kyuubi does break free again, she now has the means to stop it from causing widespread damage. (This isn’t common knowledge, but she does leverage it against Hiruzen and the council.)

Mostly this spirals over into: 1. Mikoto has the most powerful eyes in the clan but is also no longer capable of going on missions due to a debilitating spinal injury that has her using a wheelchair most times. 2. Mikoto raising Naruto; Sasuke and Itachi both being VERY protective of their 'little brother' 3. Mikoto having flashbacks to that one 'pretty sure I'm bi, let's find out' affair she had with Kushina before Minato and Fugaku dug up the courage to ask their respective crushes out.

I'm wishy-washy on whether or not the jinchuuriki thing becomes common knowledge because I feel like Mikoto would hate the idea of that info leaking, but I also imagine that she'd be in the hospital for at least a week or two after the incident, and unable to stop whoever shared the info

Consider Itachi being hella protective of Baby Brothers and, also, the utter hellion that Naruto becomes whenever someone (Fugaku) makes the mistake of asking Shisui to watch the kids for an afternoon

"Why doesn't Naruto have our clan name?" "Because I was very close with his mother, and I want to honor her by letting Naruto keep the name of his family by blood. His mother can't be here to raise him, but he can at least have her name."

I have this really solid image in my head of Mikoto in her wheelchair, infant/toddler Naruto standing on her lap to play with her hair as she holds his arms so he doesn't fall, while slightly-bigger-toddler Sasuke is on the floor and clinging to the wheels to stay upright and trying to tap at Naruto's legs because He Wants To Play

Also: Mikoto inviting Kakashi over to see Naruto and whenever someone tries to throw a fit over The Eye Stealer coming by, she just does Pleasant Smile With Mangekyo and then Fugaku has to Freak Out Like Hell because My Darling, Stop Doing That, Your Eyes Are Bleeding And You Will Go Blind Because You Wanted Drama.

Fugaku is an "I cannot stop my wife but I will flutter about uselessly as she damages herself for an intimidation bonus" husband.

Itachi regularly panics because he's five years old and his hands aren't big enough for two infants. It's like the "drunk person presented with puppies" video, except Itachi isn't drunk, he's five and overwhelmed by Baby.

This, except Itachi's problem is that he's like. Three feet tall. - He has to draft Shisui to help. - And then Kakashi because ANBU Hound keeps stalking his house.

I can't decide if Kakashi is more "Oh, is this how people saw me when I was that age? No wonder they all thought I was creepy as hell." or "This is Normal™️." - Probably the latter, he’s like fifteen and traumatized as heck.

This last bit I’m a little unsure of adding so if anyone feels I’m jumping into a topic I’m not qualified to talk about, even with the disclaimers, please let me know and I’ll remove it.

On the topic of transracial* adoption: it’s something that I'd be wary of writing about in too much depth because it's not my lived experience, for all that I can guess at some parts of how it would apply, but for a bulletpoint concept, I feel okay with touching on it.

Naruto is raised by Uchiha, surrounded by Uchiha, culturally an Uchiha... except he will never have Sharingan, he can't really do Katon, he's a chakra powerhouse in a way that screams Uzumaki, and he is visibly not Uchiha. I feel like that's liable to cause some identity issues and imposter syndrome about being part of the family down the line in ways that, say, being adopted by Kakashi wouldn't.

He wouldn't experience the same "Otherness" that he did in canon, but he would experience some Othering. Even with a loving direct family of Scary Murderers who want to protect him, there's only so much they can do. Especially if he starts to feel like their protecting him is just another thing that makes him Other, especially if some of the more distantly related Uchiha Do Not Want Him There.

*To clarify, I’m talking about the original meaning of the term, which is the specific elements of racism and cultural disconnect experienced by adoptees in families of a race that differs from their own, most commonly children of color adopted by white families.

(I believe it’s the most similar term to what 'feeling othered, even unintentionally, by way of being phenotypically distinct from the family and community one has been adopted by' would be in this situation... especially since Kushina was an immigrant? IDK.)

(Obviously, there are a lot of reasons why I wouldn’t want to write about this in too much depth, because applying real-world racial dynamics and situations to a fantasy universe of Naruto’s type is questionable practice. However, this term is still the one that matches up most to what I’m thinking about, so I wanted to give a nod in that direction to address that there are similar experiences in the world that I can’t hope to directly understand.)

[gospelofme]

47 Thoughts While Watching Part 1 of The Bad Batch season finale (spoilers ahead!!!!!)

“They’ll still come for you”. Ugh that sounds so sad. He’s confident about it too.

How did Echo get so good at ship repairs? Unless basic ship crap is mandatory for sudden repairs. Which I guess if you hang with Skywalker, that’s a requirement.

Aaahhh, the Kamino theme is memorable.

So I wonder if Rampart planned to leave Crosshair on Kamino all along?

I love the fact the Kaminoans kept secrets from the Republic/Empire. Like using their credits to fund their own projects.

I wonder how Omega knew about that platform….I didn’t think she’d ever left Kamino. Unless she went there with Nala Se for whatever.

Damn, I’d hate always getting wet when I go outside.

So the pad and lift are proximity sensor based. Not weight.

So the tubes aren’t documented on any schematics. So none of the blueprints that Tech has access to have them on there. That means one of two things:

- there are “official” and “unofficial” blueprints. Like some the Republic were given and the actual plans.

- Nala Se had the tube system built specifically for her.

Private research lab doesn’t mean secret…but still, why did she get a private one? Was it just to create the enhanced clones? Or was it used for more “off the records” projects?

And if there are other tubes that run throughout Kamino, and they’re all secret, WHY!? Like why do they exist? Surely the Kaminoans know they can just go wherever they want whenever they want because they fucking live there. Unless….they became prisoners in their own home….

About how uncomfortable Omega is having to go to the lab…

“why would I be?” He sounded like he rolled his eyes there.

The amount of salt that is being sprinkled by Crosshair right now.

“We didn’t have a choice?”

“And I did?”

Okay so when I first watched this episode, I thought that meant he no longer had his chip. But now I see it as Crosshair not having a choice because Hunter had committed treason by what his orders were telling him.

Also, I love the colors used in the control room. Idk why. They just all work. I think it’s because the rest of that place is so blinding with white light.

So how did they build the tubes under water….

“Most in Tipoca City don’t know about it.” So some do.

Omega sounds so sad. Honestly since I’m certain there were more than just five enhanced clones, since Nala Se said that that was all that remained, I wonder if Omega saw the clones that didn’t survive the experimentation.

About how Tech always looks like he’s texting. I’m waiting for him to take a selfie with Echo or something.

About Hunter still trying to convince Crosshair that this is all influenced by his chip. I think Crosshair knows he’s being used, but he (like the others in Clone Force 99) want some sense of normalcy. Like Echo said earlier, “we’re soldiers, what other path is there?”

Okay the alarm reminds me of the purge siren.

And the indoor alarm sounds like an airport alert.

About Echo taking charge, although I think he naturally is the next in command rank-wise. Do we even know the rank of Tech and Wrecker? What was Crosshair’s rank before?

Omega should’ve gone and tattled on them to Rex. Like “and then they just ditched me!! Again!! I know I have no combat training but still…”

Its pretty clear that Crosshair knows how the team is going to act. Like what tactics they’d use and decisions they’d make. Like on Bracca, Crosshair knew immediately the scanner frequencies were being jammed, because he had seen Tech use that trick before.

“We’re running out of time Commander” I have enjoyed that guy’s voice. It’s soothing.

The way Crosshair spits out “the Republic” makes me think there is something more than just the inhibitor chip at play. I wonder if he’s always harbored ill feelings towards the Republic. Cut had issues with the war that were so strong, he deserted. I wonder if Crosshair had similar feelings.

Wow he is really hurt about being left behind. And I can understand that. But Hunter did have a responsibility to Omega, Wrecker, Echo, and Tech too. He couldn’t risk them being shot and killed while trying to reason with someone who is shooting at him. Of course maybe if he had made more of an effort to get Crosshair to come with them…..of course I do think the Empire has done some brainwashing of Crosshair as well.

“I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you, what you never gave me. A chance.”

I think there is more to this than face value. It could very well mean he’s giving them a chance to join the Empire. But that whole conversion always used the term “choice”, not “chance”. “Chance” is used more as “an opportunity to do something”. That “do something” could be making a decision though. Like “I’m going to give you a chance to join the Empire.” But it could be “I’m going to give you a chance to get out of here.” Hunter didn’t give Crosshair a chance to prove he was loyal to them either. Plus the way the rest of Crosshair’s team reacted tells me they weren’t aware of their Commander’s intentions.

I love how Tech, Wrecker, and Echo are standing there like 😐

I thought it was interesting Crosshair decided to send Omega on a shuttle off world. Of course where would that have been? Just pick some random coordinates and say “good luck”? How would that be received by Rampart? Of course I don’t think he cared about Omega. That was just Nala Se and Lama Su really. And honestly, Crosshair was sounding like he’d actually thought about this. Like if Hunter wants to keep Omega safe, then he needs to realize that she won’t be safe with them. Especially if they’re being hunted. However there may have been an ulterior motive here too. With Omega out of the way, It will be like “old times” when it was just them. He probably feels like he was replaced by a kid.

The change in music though. The emotional, sweeping theme dropping down to a more sinister theme when Crosshair mentions their superiority over regular troopers.

“This is what we were made for.” What if, and hear me out…what if the enhanced clones were created specifically for the Empire. Their deployment during the Clone Wars could’ve been a testing phase. They may not have been prepared for the chance the inhibitor chips didn’t work. Crosshair had mentioned that Hunter couldn’t see the bigger picture. What if that is the bigger picture. That all of them were created to serve the Empire. Not the Republic. Which would explain Crosshair’s sudden disgust with it.

That reflection shot of Tech staring into the mirror. I like that shot. That’s really beautifully animated.

I have a feeling Crosshair knew his new squad wouldn’t listen to him. The “stand down” sounded like he was just saying it to say it. I don’t think he ever had respect for them, not after what happened with Saw’s fighters. They weren’t following him out of loyalty, but fear. And loyalty is a big deal to Crosshair. Honestly I think he had planned all along to kill his new squad. Like from the beginning. Which is why he was trying so hard to get his old squad members. The sooner he got them and convinced them to come to his side, the sooner he could shoot his new squad.

I have a feeling Crosshair know’s the reason why they were all created. Granted that could be brainwashing by the Empire to gain his compliance and loyalty. But something tells me that they were created specifically to become an elite squad for the Emperor.

Crosshair has some serious Anakin vibes when he’s telling Hunter to not become his enemy. And Hunter has some Obiwan vibes with the whole “we never were” line.

I do enjoy the weight they give Crosshair when Hunter flips him. Like the sound of him hitting the floor. He’s heavier than he looks.

Lmao that one TK trooper like “nope, imma get the fuck out of here.”

“Let the clones die together.” Yeah that bitch always intended to leave Crosshair on Kamino. Rampart never actually considered him important since he was the one that pitched the idea of an all conscripted trooper squad. He only had Crosshair as a part of it because Admiral Tarkin still liked the idea of clones. I think Rampart is going to try to climb over Tarkin on that Empire ladder. He didn’t mention to Tarkin that Crosshair was still on Kamino.

Aaahhh now the subject of the chip. Does he or doesn’t he? I think he does. The Empire wouldn’t remove it and take that risk of losing that compliance and blind loyalty. Plus the “does it really matter?” tells me he doesn’t know when, which he would if it was recent. He did have it in the first episode though. It showed up on the scanner and he did the whole “good soldiers follow orders.”

So I don’t think he was going to shoot Hunter. I think he feigned movement to make Hunter shoot him. He may not have thought Hunter’s blaster was sent to stun even. He may have intended to have Hunter kill him.

I do like how Hunter doesn’t hesitate to not bring Crosshair this time.

Damn the shots of the empty facility kills me.

Okay, so I know this was sad BUT the bombardment of Kamino was beautifully animated. Honestly. The underwater shots of the bolts hitting the support pillars. And it reminds me…Omega asked Tech about these the war was like and now she kinda knows. She’s never seen explosions like that.

Get ready for part 2

@jgvfhl @leias-left-hair-bun @escapedthesarlacc @halzore @eyecandyeoz

[itsclydebitches]

Hey there! Admittedly I'm a little bit nervous since this is my first ask, but I'll try to not be too rambly.

So, recently the main subreddit, r/RWBY, made a ban on active users of the r/RWBYcritics subreddit. As a result there's been discussion around bad-faith criticism in the latter subreddit. What are your takes on bad-faith criticism?

For me personally, I think a bunch of people are misusing the term "bad-faith" and using it as a way to shut down criticism, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it.

Hey there, everyone! We woke up to some drama this morning, huh? And hello to you too, Tortoise! I'm so glad you decided to send in an ask, even if it's following some pretty tumultuous events...

Right, I'd like to start with a story. The story of how I personally don't spend time on Reddit, but I have plenty of friends who will occasionally cross-post something for me to see. Yesterday (or the day before? Idk time is meaningless) a friend told me about a post — which, significantly, I'm now having trouble finding — that covers RWBY's inconsistent writing and the fandom's tendency to try and explain away those missteps. They'd thought I'd be interested because I'd just had a conversation here on tumblr where I made that exact point to someone who, also significantly, vehemently disagreed with me, but in a very civil fashion. Given everything going on, I feel like this side point needs emphasis: we debated, we did so in a sometimes heated, but nevertheless respectful manner, it was clear neither of us was going to sway the other, and the conversation ended. The two "sides" of the community interacted without Armageddon coming about.

But back to the purpose of this tale. I went to take a look at this point and found that it no longer exists. There's just some vague message about it not obeying the subreddit's rules. "What happened?" I asked. "Why'd they take the post down?" "People were getting too heated in the comments," my friend replies. So, given that the comments were still visible, I proceeded to read through them, expecting personal attacks, slurs, harassment, etc. Any number of things that would justify deleting the post itself to put an end to such behavior. Instead, I found a thread of people having a conversation. Was the conversation heated at times? Sure. Did one or two individual posters edge into the realm of petulant, "No. You're wrong and stupid" responses? Yes. Was any of this remotely what I was expecting given the post's removal? NOPE.

"This isn't allowed?" I said. "Well then what is? People were being civil! Or at least as civil as hundreds of strangers ever get when discussing a series they're passionate about online."

Then, this morning, I hear that the entire critic subreddit has been banned.

So to answer your question, Tortoise, I don't actually think that "good faith" criticism exists. Meaning, it's not just that fans are misusing the term "bad faith criticism," but rather that there is no unified, agreed up method of writing criticism that will meet their standards. It's not possible and we know it's not possible because fans have been trying to meet those elusive standards for years:

A fan posts nothing but praise for RWBY until changes make them criticize the show as it is now. Their entire body of work is dismissed as the product of a "hater," despite the overwhelming gap between positive and negative reviews.

A fan posts a review that's a pretty balanced mix between praise and criticism. They're dismissed because it's still too much criticism.

A fan posts a review that's 99% praise with 1% criticism. That's still too much, with fans focusing on the single problem they had with the work and using it as an excuse to dismiss the entire review out of hand.

(As an aside, the argument that critics are "obsessed" with only saying negative things and that the only problem here is that they're "too" negative ignores the argument that... RWBY has a lot of flaws nowadays. Few are willing to acknowledge the possibility that it's not fans insisting on making things up to be mad about/ignoring the good parts of the show, it's the that show is, as of now, legitimately more of a mess than it is a praise-worthy product. If I'd been writing recaps in the Volumes 1-4 days, my work would have been skewed far more towards the positive. The critics' stance is that RWBY has gotten worse, which yes, results a higher volume of critical posts. To say nothing of how criticism takes far longer to explain, likewise resulting in posts focused primarily on that side of the divide. I really enjoyed the image of a crying Jaune reflected in his sword. I did not enjoy that moment's context. Saying that you liked an animation choice is a one sentence thing. Explaining the complexities of Jaune securing emotional moments, the problems with Penny's second death, the hurt many fans experienced watching an assisted suicide, etc. takes a whooole lot longer. Hence, you get massive, multiple posts about these nuanced topics and fewer, smaller posts about the details that are working well.)

A fan talks about a topic that has been metaphorically banned by the fandom as a whole. They have something good to say about Ironwood. They dislike something about Blake/Yang. They enjoyed Adam as a character. They have a problem with Ruby's leadership, etc. There's a whole list of topics nowadays that will result in an automatic dismissal, regardless of the point the fan is trying to make or how well they make it.

A fan talks about the minority representation of RWBY — its black characters, its queer characters, its disabled characters, etc. — and as a result has something to say about the biases and missteps of those writing these characters. This is considered an attack on the writers and, therefore, automatically bad.

A fan talks about how they enjoyed RWBY as it was years ago and is having trouble reconciling the dark, complicated story with the simple, hopeful one we started out with. This is seen as an attack on Monty's vision and an unwillingness to accept that "everything is planned."

A fan does as asked and ensures that their post is meeting all the requirements of "real" criticism. They have an argument to make. They have a point. They provide evidence. They recommend a solution. They keep their tone respectful. They don't attack the creators. They provide disclaimers in every single paragraph about how they do not hate RWBY. It doesn't matter. They're considered too negative.

I have, quite literally, seen every one of the above examples on multiple occasions. I have had many of the above accusations leveled at my own work. When fans say that they're fine with criticism provided it's not "bad faith" criticism, they don't actually have a specific post-type in mind; a checklist of behaviors another fan can emulate and, provided they do that, no hate will come their way. Or, if an individual fan does actually go, "Yeah. That criticism I'm fine with" that response is in no way universal. One person's "They make a good, civil point" is another person's, "Omg stop bashing the show!" Because "bashing" has come to mean everything from curse-laden insults towards everything RWBY has ever done, to posts that just happen to say something other fans don't agree with.

It's a rigged game. There is no way to post criticism about RWBY in an agreed-upon, appropriate manner. This recent ban is proof of that. I think it's incredibly telling that almost immediately after I was going, "Wow. A pretty calm debate about the flaws of RWBY in the main sub. That's great to see," all posters from the criticism subreddit were banned. The main sub literally just had the sort of criticism that they claim to accept — people respectfully posting analysis-based arguments resulting in calm debate — and yet they implemented the ban anyway. I'm not going to pretend that I've never gotten too heated on my own posts, never made snarky comments when I'm frustrated, never used exaggerated reaction GIFs that can come across as insulting... but I'd say on the whole my RWBY work is precisely the sort of "good faith" criticism that other fans are supposedly looking for. I never make an argument I don't think I can back up with evidence. I try to allow for the nuance and differing opinions of complicated topics. I try — even if I don't always succeed — to write in a clear, respectful manner. Yet none of that work has stopped people from telling me I'm a "bitter... raging asshole," a "deranged, delusional psychopath," telling me to set myself on fire, threatening to smash my head in, or just messages to straight up kill myself. If someone like me who legitimately works hard to create fair, defendable criticism and who only ever posts on a personal blog that people can easily block, who never engages in debate until someone else starts it first, never seeks out other fans I disagree with to harass them about what they like... if someone like me is still a "bad faith" critic who "deserves" that kind of hate mail... then what kind of criticism do people want?

Nothing. That's the answer. No criticism whatsoever, of any kind, no matter if it's delivered respectfully, is making a good point, whatever. That's why "RWDE" was created. That's why the critic subreddit was created. The community at large has demanded a complete separation between Praise and Anything That's Not 100% Praise, which has now resulted in this ban. Any other explanations we see are excuses, which becomes glaringly obvious when you look at the mods' supposed reasons for implementing the ban:

"Constant arguments with r/RWBY users" - As opposed to the arguments surrounding things like shipping that never, ever happen?

"Vote manipulation and comment brigades" - The subreddit with 3,000 participants, with around 200 on at a time, is manipulating the votes of a subreddit with 155,000 participants, with over 1,000 on at a time? Those numbers just do not check out. If a positive post is downvoted, or a critical post upvoted, maybe that's because large swaths of the community actually agree/disagree with that assessment, not because the incredibly smaller group is somehow manipulating things.

"Attacking and harassing those they disagree with" — Again, as opposed to those non-critics that never, ever harass people? This is an individual problem, not a community problem. Both critics and non-critics have their sub-groups acting in ways they shouldn't. If anything, the main sub will have more individuals harassing other fans, simply by virtue of being so much larger. As the above examples attest, it's not other critics who have told me to light myself on fire and, just to be clear, the asks I've responded to are a miniscule number compared to the amount I've received. I delete the lion's share for my own sanity and to save my followers from reading the really graphic threats.

"Months-long NSFL spam brigades" — I am, admittedly, not sure what this is referring to. Spamming of NSFW content? If so, that's also an individual problem.

"Homophobic, transphobic, and racist attacks towards our users" — See the above points. Again. If someone is being homophobic, transphobic, or racist, then yes please, ban them. Don't ban an entire community for the actions of a few. It's like walking into a store and banning a customer for causing a scene... but then also banning everyone else who happened to be shopping at the same time. It's guilt by association.

The silver lining to all this? The community as a whole isn't pleased. At least according to the main subreddit comments and a few individual voices like MurderofBirds. Despite the increase (from my perspective anyway) of critical voices post-Volume 8, criticism of RWBY is still very much seen as taboo. As this ban showcases. But it's really reassuring to see so many fans, critics and non-critics alike, going, "This was a mistake." A community is meant to include all aspects of engagement: praise, criticism, and the gray area between. If anything, fans like the mods of the main subreddit should be creating a separate subreddit that is specifically for praise. In the same way that there should have been a tag for RWBY praise, rather than trying to eliminate any and all criticism from the main "RWBY" tag. The majority of fans, even those who claim to hate critics and all they (presumably) stand for, recognize that a blanket ban of all criticism is not the way to go, especially when "criticism" has come to have such a staggeringly broad definition. If you want your RWBY experience to be nothing but sunshine and roses (ha), then cultivate your own internet experience to reflect that. Create your own pockets with rules about how this is the space for praise and if you're not up for praising RWBY right now, don't interact with us in this particular space. Don't try to make the entire community — the main tools used to discuss the show online — conform to your preferences. As established, there is no "good" criticism that everyone in the fandom will accept, which just leaves a fandom with no criticism at all. I'm glad to see I'm far from the only one who, when presented with that extreme, is going, "Nope. No thank you."

[ninjas-and-coffee]

WU SUCKS but not the reason you think

I'd like to preface by saying Wu has made a lot of mistakes and should be held accountable. But like the main arguments against Wu be like.

1: Morro

2: Traumatizing kids

3: Keeping secrets

4: Mot treating his nephew like is damn nephew.

5: Flirting with his brothers wife.

And the thing about that needs talked about. 1:Morro. First off getting kids hopes is not cool. It can be detrimental to development depending on the age of the child. BUT. Not a single soul told Morro to train tirelessly for 60+ years after his death to take revenge and be the green ninja. Absolutly no one. Wu had compassion for his failings and wanted to show Morro he could still he great without being the green ninja. But the little brat ran tf off and got trapped and died. And he got cursed, how- we dont know. But its implied that it's either intentional entrapment or you have to be a terrible person, guess which category he probably falls into. Mind you Wu also told our OGs that they could also be the green ninja and none of them went off the rails to settle some invisible score. Morro made his choices and he made shit ones. Wu was an influence but not the problem. Morro is unstable, dramatic, and holds grudges Wu didnt cause that.

2: the traumatic experiences the nina go through are also not exactly his fault. He didnt just pick them off the streets. THERE WAS A PROPHECY. Ok? Yall with me. Fate isnt uncontrolled by anyone the ninja needed to be trained to help Lloyd fight the Overlord. That wasnt his decision. And yall act like the ninja couldn't leave whenever they wanted to. He didnt gaslight them or belittle them in anyway that wasnt for teaching. Please bring me receipts if you think otherwise. I do admit he could help a little more, be more clear, but when has a old magic teacher character ever been straightforward. With that logic fuck Dumbledore, and Gandalf, and any wise old teacher that goes to find chosen one who once again are chosen by fate not the master himself. Yall literally cant blame Wu for Child's Play and you cant blame Wu for their experience with Nadakhan either. The enemies that go out of there way to attack the ninja are not a direct cause if Wu himself. Usually. It be like blaming Garmadon for Chen. Yes they had history but it's still not his fault

3: Secrets. I will admit there is next to no reason for keeping secrets from the ninja. Considering history always has kind of score to settle. But considering his age and the apparent imprisonment or death of his past enemies there no way to predict every problem that comes back to screw him over. The Time Twins for example. Yes they came back for Wu. But he did remove their powers and separated them over 20+ years ago. They were not exactly threats to his new students now were they? Again with Aspheera, who was literally locked in a tomb why take the time to educate the ninja on a problem he had no idea was going to come back for him. Same with Morro to a more confusing degree. MORRO DIED. How was he to prepare the ninja for that? Yes please tell me how they were supposed to prepare for a dead guy. I'll wait.........k. he should be more forthcoming with the ninja, about things he knows could harm them, like the Serpentine after Lloyds released them, Chen, the Overlord, the effects of Travelers Tea, Tomorrow's Tea, Oni, Etc. But most of the time the ninja go and do it first then wonder why Wu didn't warn them.

4: His nephew. Wow his parenting sucks. Morro is not his damn child let's start there. Comparing their relationship is unfair. Wu cared for Morro the way he cares for Kai and Nya. He never accentuates a paternal relationship with then. Cause they are students, students he has to train with he intent to send them out onto dangerous battle fields and mind games. He was alone so yes it looks different but it's also a leap to just assume that Wu viewed Morro as his own despite treating him the exact same way as his 6 other students. Now back to Lloyd. Why didnt he get his nephew from Darkleys where it was known he ran away from multiple times? I DONT KNOW. No one does. That is a bad move I can only theorize about. Maybe Misako said something about staying away, maybe he wasnt kept in the loop about his nephews whereabouts due to idk KICKING HIS FATHER INTO HELL. C'mon yall. Now in the later seasons my best guess is that he doesnt know how to differentiate his nephew from the chosen one side and the goofy child side. Hes never had a child and his early relations with Lloyd were scarce and when Lloyd came to live with him. It's not due to some familial obligation, destiny literally called for it. Putting some definite strain on their relationship. I'm not excusing it he should try better, but he'd have to build a relationship from nothing and most people know their immediate family upon birth or during childhood which is not the case here. Wu treats his nephew more like a vessel of power than a person which isnt cool but knowing that the kid might not come back after every fight is a good damper on happy relationships is it not?

5: Misako. Good lord I don't have to explain this one. No excuse. It shouldn't be happening. BUT. After Garmadons death she was a free woman as gross as it is. It's more a flaw on her than it is him she chose to have a baby with one brother and still try to get with the other. And I know it takes two to tango but dont get mad at the idiot that the cheater is cheating with. Be mad at the cheater. The thing people really dont get about love triangles. The "other guy" brings on the questions/options but the person who cant choose or screws with both parties is the one in the wrong. Lloyd seems ok with it. Because Tommy said so. I dont particular give two shits about his take on the show half the time. If Lloyd were actively against it the Wu would probably stop. If the Fsm family acted like a normal ass family we probably wouldnt be here. But their priorities are a little screwy compared to typical nuclear families. Not an excuse just some perspective

NOW, why he is a bad character despite all of those arguments. he chooses to train soldiers rather than care for impressionable teens. Yes the situation called for it but the pressure could he alleviated if he decided to actually help before the world was on fire. He chooses to teach by experience than be upfront. Which works sometimes but not when actual lives are at stake. His trial by fire teaching works but the possiblity it could go wrong is to big to be brushed aside. His seemingly unreachable vault of empathy is hard to swallow. He rarely actually feels things for other people, his lack of enthusiasm when they pull through something hurts to watch. His lack of empathy about raising his nephew to attempt to kill his father is frightening. The pride he demonstrates by choosing not to disclose his past until it's too late is dangerous. He doesnt directly put down the ninja unless he has to and its more implied than anything and is on his students and this fandom for taking it so harshly. He trusts them a lot because he doesnt see them as kids anymore. They are warriors and it was necesary. He should have more compassion. He should be more straight forward, he should try to act like a person and not some ethereal being of elsewhere that doesn't have time to appease feelings or care about people until after hes wronged them. His values are off kilter sometimes which is whatever until it starts to hurt people

But yall need to stop blaming him for other people actions. Morro was a mess to begin with. His problems are in the past because he took care of them already. Misako came onto him. (He should have resisted but he didnt start shit she did). He needs to try to be an uncle alongside being a teacher. He needs to act like a fucking person more than the infinite cache of wisdom and unforeseen unused power that he acts like. And also it's a kids show. How many children think the way yall do?, we're teens/YAs we're reading into things. A LOT which makes everything more complicated. Comments rebuttals open. There's a collection of little mistakes hes made along the way that dont fit into these categories but these are the main reasons I know people hate him and the little things add fuel to the fire. I will legit talk about anything Except for the morro thing I am so tired of seeing it Morro made his choices hes a fucking Villain Wu didnt make him that way being a bitter asshole did that. Thanks for reading!! :3

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit. 
 Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?��� The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.  

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.  

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”  

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.  

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin���.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.”

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”  

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

—————————————————

| Part 15 |