#unfortunately and in a manner typical to that kind of games we only get the most basic info about the plot
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flash-from-the-past · 1 year ago
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Alkirian 1 - The Nine Pages
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creative99writer · 3 months ago
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jack is so cheeky despite looking very well mannered or mature lol he’s only 23 but age doesn’t justify our actions especially social issues most people at 20 would have better opinions than Jack in this political environment tbh.. but I don’t think he’s that mature and he probably hooked up with that KT girl and she took it as something serious. I believe there are other people he hooks up but doesn’t make it as obvious as this of girl. I mean after all he’s a man and we all know what men are like especially early 20s😭 and posh athletes always have the most politically weird and icky opinions. He’s never had to deal with homophobia, poverty, social or racial discrimination or class conflict 😂 it’s all fun and games to these kids. But I’m sure he would stand up if he faced these kind of issues. Look at him proudly standing up for Alzheimer’s patients cause he knows how damaging it is as his loved one goes through it💔 it’s just lack of empathy compassion and experience but do we really have to experience racism, homophobia or poverty to stand up against racists, homophobes and liberals? I don’t think so but at the end of the day Jacks just a typical rich kid from the UK.. i wouldn’t expect much from him sadly.. still I think I got the ick 💔 I really thought he was something special.
Hi anon! I totally agree with most things, and want to say that I believe Jack is just extremely sheltered and lives in a bubble, like I've said before. Its not supposed to be an excuse and I have never met him and don’t know him, but I do believe and many people have said so too, that he is a really really nice guy, sweet and empathetic and genuinely cares about people and his family. That being said, while I agree that not being exposed to say racism or poverty doesnt mean you can ignore it (I haven't experienced it myself either thankfully but I am well aware that it exists unfortunately), most of us are confronted with it in some parts of it in our daily lives, like recession etc simply by being surrounded by the real world, or even co workers who grew up differently or lead different lives. But Jack - he grew up rich and is now himself rich af. His daily life probably consists of spending his time with tennis, fitness and the same five people. And when he meets new people, I highly doubt his conversation topics include the exuberant prices for eggs or milk or racism or societal issues in general. I don’t really even think it’s ignorance on purpose, I think those people genuinely have no idea because not once are they being exposed to how the real world works, especially when you've apparently been home schooled and unfortunately are a little awkward and weird and sometimes say the wrong or strange things that make people go ??? He definitely cares about things that affect him directly like with his grandma and Alzheimer because he is experiencing it firsthand. Unfortunately, people who live in a bubble like that often have to experience things like that for themselves in order to speak up or do something because they never had to before. You would think social media helps with getting a taste of what it’s really like out there but for one, social media is often fake af, influeners show off their great lifestyle that has absolutely nothing to do with real life and also - I doubt that with the little free time they actually have they would sit down to look at social or political topics. Like you said, he is young and most definitely is not short of company even if he is awkward and a little weird. I have my own opinion on this, but I don’t think he lacks in the company department, and has a lot of, let’s say choices. He seems incredibly focused on tennis and peobably doesn’t have too much time to take anything too seriously outside of that though.
So I can’t really speak for that girl or if she took it more seriously and nobody even knows what really happened but he usually keeps his cards in terms of private life close to his chest (and good for him), so the whole topic just seems… off, and unlike his usual way of dealing with these topics.
But I do believe that he is very very good a pretending to be mature. And I say that despite liking him (because like I said, I do think he is a really nice guy). He is incredibly media trained and he comes across as mature when it comes to tennis and even improving as a player and person (and that I honestly even buy because he seems like he is obsessed with being better in terms of tennis and as a human being, especially considering his recent following spree, even though I don’t know if he goes about it in the right way lol. I also think he struggles a lot with confidence, and that probably more than he lets on or the average person but that’s a different topic). When I say he comes across as someone pretending to be mature, I mean that his answers often don’t give away much, are usually very diplomatic and exactly what people want to hear. He seems to go from being extremely professional to being cheeky when he forgets to be media trained for a second and in reality never really gives away much or it doesnt have much depth if you know what I mean. And there is usually not too much ground for any slightly scandalous things because there is not too much he gives away in terms of answers or behavior, and he doesn’t want to give people too much on Social Media too. Which is why the OF girl seemed like a slip up. He usually seems to have a very tight grip on his brand and struggles with fun and light hearted environments and questions (which is fair enough, anxiety and social awkwardness are a pain, I get it, and I don’t think anyone can fault him for that). But his often serious demeanor makes him seem more mature than he is, even though I would not want to lead a conversation about politics or society with him because let’s be real, that’s where his immaturity and lack of experience will come out. That being said, I don’t think there is an inherent lack of compassion or empathy at play, it’s his lifestyle that’s out of touch. I can’t really speak for his political stance and I also don’t really know if he has one that is his own but growing up posh probably doesn't exactly help.
Sorry for the long ass answer, anon, I kinda ran with this 😂 But don’t let this deter you from being his fan because at the end of the day I don’t think he is a bad person, he is most likely very nice - I think it’s just always important to remember that these guys are flawed humans that have imperfections like all of us, and that if you were to meet them, they would probably be super nice and patient, but to separate them from the private beings that we don’t know.
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shushiyuii · 4 years ago
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Naga tommy pranking his family (who didn’t know he was a nags) with safe noms because he was hungry and completely forgot they didn’t know about him or safe noms, they think some random snake just came and ate them.
I FRIGGING DID IT, I MAY NOT HAVE WIFI BUT I DID IT. Well i may may not have gotten a bit angsty with this one buttt here it is!
Warnings: Vore, Unwilling prey, Angst ( ;3 just read it trust me)
Words: 1.9K+
He slithered throughout the forest, climbing through the trees and branches. Trying to find whatever prey he could as he was starving, it wasn’t an easy task to satisfy a naga’s stomach. Nor was it a simple task.
That was the thing he hated about being a naga, so many struggles such as hiding the fact you were a naga from your family! Which may not have been a smart task, but then again many people were scared of nagas so he’d prefer to keep his secret hidden.
But the thing is, he was absolutely starving and did not want to take whatever food his family had as they were struggling to get food from the recent shortage of food out in the wild, hence why he was struggling himself.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t eaten, he had breakfast with his family but with Naga’s they require a lot more maintenance than other creatures, requiring a lot more food than humans.
He had no idea how he had gotten away with it for so long, he kept up this secret for so long now, years. And not once had he slipped up, his family always thought he was out adventuring out in the forest and by the end of the day would hide his naga features to be found by either Phil, Techno or usually Wilbur.
When he was younger, his mom had raised him for a period, but one day got found by humans. So his mother, took him away to safety and told him this, “Hide from any humans, if you see any. Run.”. That was the last thing she had ever said to him, and he never forgot it.
After that he learnt to be independent and wild with instinct, since it was really the only way he knew to survive. And grew to hate humans.
That was all until he was found by Wilbur. One day who was singing by the roots of a tree, singing a tune when Tommy had spotted him.
He didn’t like the sight of a human but was entranced by the music the human was playing. So, he approached the human and hid his naga like features.
Wilbur looked over when he heard the shuffling of the bushes and saw a little runt boy, “Oh god. What’s a little guy like you doing in the forest?”. Wilbur came closer to help Tommy but he hissed and bit Wilbur, who surprisingly didn’t seem to mind.
“You’re a little odd ball, aren’t you? Don’t worry I’m not gonna hurt you! What’s your name?”.
“T-Tommy.”, “Nice to meet you Tommy, I’m Wilbur!”. Wilbur then took him home, gave him food and was accepted into the family, where he learnt human customs and went out to the forest to let out his wild instincts and couldn’t have it any better than that.
But now, he was starving, and he had no idea how he was going to keep charge of his instincts in check, because who knew what could happen when he lost control.
He remembered when he was younger, he kept conscious through the entire thing but, he didn’t know what would happen now, especially since it’s been years since that time.
But he could barely stop himself from snapping his head towards a slightly moving bush and pouncing on it. That was until he heard voices from a distance, yelling his name. What? What was his family doing here at this time?
He slithered through more trees, quickly seeing his family wondering the forest. “Tommy! Where are you?”, “Where is he?”, “No idea, hope we find him soon”.
Unfortunately for him, he felt his body begin to slowly slither down the tree and couldn’t stop it, Fuck. No. No. No. No.
This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t, not now, not to his family. Please.
Soon he got to the ground, slithering on the floor just like a snake would, when he turned into a naga he was fairly a lot taller than his family. Which meant a scenario he did not wish to think of.
The family strolled throughout the forest for a while, looking for any sign of their missing relative, “Do you think he head home already?”, “Nah, way too early. He’s always out at this time.”. Techno turned his head as he heard rustle of a bush.
Wilbur turned along side Techno, “Tommy? Is that you?”. He asked, and he question was answered when Tommy pounced out of the bush and onto Wilbur, he wrapped his coils around Wilbur and tightened. Wilbur screamed in fear, which Tommy did not like as it hurt his sensitive ears.
“T-Tommy?!”, he yelped out as Tommy tightened his coils further, he answered with a hiss as he loomed more over Wilbur, “Tommy, mate?” He heard from behind him, Phil, his dad. Who he wanted so badly to hug in his coils and cry but he was way too focused on the prey in his coils, he doubt he could caught the looks of fear from either his and Techno’s faces.
Wilbur looked to Tommy with tears forming in his eyes, who looked to be so tight in his coils, he hated the sight. He never wanted to hurt them. He wanted to comfort Wilbur, let him know it would be okay, but the fact was that he was scared himself.
Techno seemed to snap back into reality as he ran towards Tommy and began to try and pry him off of Wilbur, but much to their dismay. Tommy striked at Techno, who luckily dodged but it didn’t help the face that he almost just bit his brother.
Unfortunately, that’s when he made his move and unhinged his jaw. That was when he placed Wilbur into his mouth, he licked at Wilbur, he hated to admit it, but he loved the taste, it was of a nice cinnamon.
He was terrified when he tilted his head upwards and swallowed. He didn’t want this; he didn’t want to swallow. He tried to take control of himself, but his hunger drove him mad, he could only rely on his animal instincts, not his humanity.
Soon, Wilbur went down his throat and into his secondary stomach. He hated the feeling, usually he’d enjoy it, but it felt so horrible when it was his brother. When he felt Wilbur tucked away his head turned to Phil, who looked horrified with tears in his eyes.
“Tommy, mate. Please. I know you don’t want to do this”. He slowly slithered closer to Phil, Techno following behind. He knew Techno was familiar with snake like behaviour and if he were to make a sudden movement, he’d strike.
He pounced again, coiling tightly around his father, he could feel Wilbur squirm and cry as he did, they were all scared. And just like Wilbur, Phil was swallowed down to join him. Phil was strong and gave a small fight, but it wouldn’t be like the next person.
His head snapped to Techno, his eyes dilated even more. He was going to get a hunt and he was excited about it, but on the inside; he feared what was to come.
Techno ran to get distance, and Tommy followed. He felt his body move slower than it usually would when actually hunting, he was playing with Techno, and he hated it.
Soon enough, he got bored of this game and scared the fuck out of Techno by pouncing on him and coiling tightly. He had never seen Techno so scared. He squirmed in the coils, Tommy struggling to get a good grip, having to tighten his coils so much. He hated how Techno looked as if he could barely breathe.
He loomed over Techno, he wanted so badly to say “I’m sorry” but his mouth wouldn’t move. He couldn’t say goodbye, the last thing he would see of his family was their terrified faces as he swallowed them whole. And then he’d be lonely again.
He felt Techno give a fight as he landed in the first stomach. Afterwards, he slithered under the shade of a tree, feeling his family cry and squirmed. He hated it. But he couldn’t control as he fell asleep, both physically and mentally tired…
He woke up, he didn’t feel anymore movements, he didn’t even want to move. He knew what had happened. He had no motivation to eat nor to live, he hated what he had done.
He coiled in on himself slightly, letting out soft sobs which soon turned into full on crying.
But his cries stopped as he felt soft movements, rubbing from his second stomach. He shot up, putting a hand to where his secondary stomach was on his tail, “Wilbur?! Dad?!”. There was hope in his voice, and he heard a voice, Wilbur’s. “Toms?”. The voice sounded tired, but no weak.
He hadn’t digested then, he felt the weight from the three of them, it hadn’t changed, they were fine, they were safe, tucked in.
“Oh shit, oh fuck. Are you guys, okay?!”. “Me and dad are fine, just tired.”, he poked at Techno, who groaned. He seemed to be sleeping. “Techno’s sleeping”. He snorted, finally able to have laughed after what had happened. “Typical Techno”, Phil laughed.
Soon there was silence, but not really a bad one as Tommy rubbed his stomach soothingly, hoping to comfort his family, “Toms?” Phil asked. “Yeah Dad?”, he answered. “How come you never told us you were a naga?...”, “I didn’t want to scare any of you”, he huffed, “But look what that lead us to”.
“What happened exactly?”, Wilbur asked , wondering what had happened throughout this whole thing, “Basically as a naga, I need to eat a lot more than you do. I need more food, hence why I go to the forest”.
“And because of the lack of food, you were struggling right?” Added Phil, “Yeah, I lost control. I didn’t mean to scare you guys like that I swear”, he rubbed more at his stomach in an anxious manner. “It’s okay Toms, we kinda just held on. Because we knew it was you and well, in reality you wouldn’t hurt us”.
They were probably right on that part, even with nagas, they were still a family kind of species. Even if they swallowed family, they’d be safe. He saw those three as his family, they were safe.
Tommy felt rubs come from the inside of his stomach, so he stopped himself and leaned, finally getting the comfort he wanted from his family. After a while he asked, “Do you guys wanna come out?”.
Wilbur snorted, “As much as it is warm and comfy in here, it’s tight so, yes please.”. And then he proceeded to let the family out of his stomach, even Techno who was now awake. They all stared at Tommy as he was now in his naga form, they couldn’t really get a good look at it for a while.
He was scared for a minute when he saw Phil’s smile and reached his hands out to his son, his face barely fitting in Phil’s arms, but he managed to give Tommy a kiss on the forehead, which his hair was then ruffled by Wilbur, and got a playful punch from Techno.
The four of them laid there then, Tommy’s head on Phil’s lap as he played with his hair and Techno and Wilbur using him as a jungle gym, he found it offensively funny. He loved his family.
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revengeisourlullaby · 4 years ago
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If I Never Knew You Pt.2
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Pt. 1   Pt. 2    Pt.3   Pt.4   Pt.5   Pt.6
Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, arranged marriage plot, kinda royal au, some fighting, secret relationship, angst.
a/n: Here is part 2! I might upload part three tonight. I’m so excited to see where this goes. It seems that the first part is doing pretty good so I might upload them faster. As always requests/asks are open! Just give me little time to get to them. Enjoy! 
Word count: 1.8K
Walking through the town, you felt an inordinate wave of liberation flow through not only you but also through Loki. It felt as if the weight of the world released itself from your shoulders. Confidence and strength soaring through the air. Loki lost his stiffness, his typical carefree nature restored once you became more grounded. 
“See, not so bad, right?”
Shaking your head, a cynical chuckle escaped your throat
“For you maybe. All these eyes on us is kinda gross.”
“It’s only because the most attractive prince has finally decided to show his face.”
You looked at Loki, amusement absent from your face. He laughed, a belly laugh almost. It was a free sound you had yet to hear from him and when you did your face painted your emotions before you had the chance to process them yourself. 
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Yes, but you, my dear, tolerate it. So who's really at a loss in this situation?”  
“Well, it’s not me.”
“It couldn’t be me Y/N.”
“Looks like we’re both losers then Loki.”
You were approaching the main entrance of the palace and began to wonder if Loki was considering bringing you inside.
“We lost when we fell in love with each other Y/N. Listening to the heart is the most foolish thing one can do and yet here we are. Charging full speed with our eyes closed hoping we don’t trip over anything.”
Guiding you up the steps of the massive golden structure Loki called ‘home’ your nerves struck up again. 
“Seems to make sense that if we’re going full speed, might as well exploit our courtship in the place where you will eventually be spending all your time in. And with all things considered, sneaking you in is...counterproductive, to say the least.”
Exhaling, you brought yourself together and walked in front of Loki. His hand rested on your lower back escorting you inside. Grabbing fabric in your fists, you hiked your dress up a bit making sure you didn’t step on it. Walking through the main threshold, you realized you were worrying for nothing. The halls were massive, the ceiling stretching higher than you ever imagined.
 It would be a miracle if you were to run across someone you knew in a place so vast.
 You looked around in shock at everything you were being hidden from. The thought of it hopefully being yours to share with Loki in freedom and not in constraint was illuminating. One day to not only be openly in love with him but to call him your husband. Your partner for life was the solace you needed. Everything looked new to you because you had only ever seen the hallways in the dead of night to share evening visits with Loki, being as slick as one could, and it always working in your favor.
“Wow, it looks so different here with the sun shining through. Always felt like a runaway sneaking through the backways and balconies to get to your quarters.”
“And now you get to walk there like every other person in this place. Quite fancy isn’t it.”
“Okay, I didn’t ask for the smart mouth, you ass.” 
“Comfortable, are we?” 
“With you? Always.”
Finally, you two had walked up to Loki’s quarters. Opening the doors he welcomed you in and you welcomed yourself to his bed. Flopping down on the edge of it, the edge of your dress flying up and you went down. Hearing the door shut, you lifted your head up to face Loki at the door, only thing was he wasn’t there. Furrowing your brow you sat up on your elbows and by the time you looked behind you, it was too late. 
“Boo.”
Your body reacted before you could control your response. Your stomach fell to your ass, eyes widening and a sharp inhale all followed one another before you finally shook off the anxiety and realized that Loki had popped up behind you. 
“You asshole! What if I screamed, huh?”
Loki laughed falling over on the bed, your reaction to him obviously something of hilarity to him. You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder in and began to pout. He caught his breath and calmed down enough so he could respond back to you. 
“You’re only screaming for one thing and unfortunately, darling, the sun’s still out. So, someone will have to wait, considering they’re so concerned about being caught.”
Loki raised his eyebrow and your mouth was agape. You squinted your eyes and an idea popped in your head. Rolling over on your knee you placed yourself on top of Loki's lap, resting your hands on his chest stealing his smirk for this moment in time.
“I can control myself...you on the other hand, once you start you can't stop.”
To emphasize your point, you rolled your hips into his and brought your body down to level his. Reaching his ear you whispered
“If you can find containment within yourself, a prize will await you this evening.”
You moved from his ear and hovered in front of his face, your lips ghosting one another. You pulled back a little bit to stare into his eyes. They were hypnotic no matter how many times you saw them. Loki’s hand trailed up your backside squeezing the mound of your ass before continuing up your back. His hand finding refuge at the nape of your neck. He pulled you back to his face, a gentleness about the entire interaction, and kissed you. 
There was a different kind of spark in this kiss, it felt electric, coursing through your veins and settling in your brain as a memory you’d never forget. Losing yourself in the thrill of it all, your hips began moving against his. Your building arousal creating a fog between you. The more you ground into the god below you, the more apparent his bulge was. Flipping you on your back Loki now held the reins of the situation. 
“Now, don’t tempt me Y/N. You have a habit of teasing and where does it always leave you?”
“At your mercy.”
“Clever girl. So if you like to save this accolade you mentioned for later, mind your manners, my love.”
He leaned down to kiss you as to punctuate his words, ending the discussion with the pull of your lips between his teeth. Hissing through the pleasure you couldn’t help but roll your hips up towards him, now being the one desperately craving friction. Testing the waters, you wanted to see how far you could push Loki to his limits. Your hand found the scruff of his neck and scrunched his hair. Sucking a breath in between his teeth, he pulled back a light laugh following. 
“I’m aware of what you’re attempting to do Y/N, and I think it would be fair for you to know that it’s a feeble attempt. Reason being, now you’re the one left in ardor.”
Loki pulled off of you but made sure to drive his point home by sliding down your body and resting between your thighs before fully standing up. You lied on the bed in slight agony of your current predicament. You sighed and brought yourself up on your elbows. Looking ahead of you, you saw Loki sitting in the massive throne chair that was in his room. It was gothic in nature yet still regal with the back of the chair rising well up behind him and the arms of it embellished with Asgardian design. 
His position in the chair was more than purposeful. His legs were spread wide, his arm resting on the arm of the throne and his hand propping up his head to look not only at you but out on the balcony. The late evening sun illuminating his eyes, bringing a whole new meaning to golden hour. He looked breathtaking and it was as if you were falling in love with him all over again.
The lust you were previously feeling was now amplified but also accompanied with adoration for your lover. You raised yourself from up off the bed and waltzed over to him. A fire behind your eyes and in your presence but you had yet to act on it. Coming in front of him, you kneeled in front of him and looked up. Two could play at this game. Your hands slid up his legs, paying special attention to his thighs and feather lightly rubbed on this. His eyes were boring through yours and you felt small under his gaze. 
The silence between you was telling, that if you were to continue with your actions there would be no waiting until later. You wanted to enjoy the silence between the two of you, so you turned your back to him now sitting on your behind, and crossed your legs. You leaned your head back so it fell in between his legs, but before fully getting settled you reached for the two books resting on the side table in front of the chair and placed them in your lap. You wiggled your hips and settled into a comfortable position. 
Resting your head back, you craned it further attempting to look at Loki. He rolled his eyes knowing exactly what you were asking for. 
“You know, if I knew how often you’d beg for these I would have never indulged in your initial request.”
“You and I both know this is enjoyable for both parties.”
Loki huffed, a silent agreement without saying explicitly that you were right. Loki began to rub your temples. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation and the loving intent of his actions. You finally felt calm and safe compared to the rest of the day which was riddled with anxiety and panic and the nagging fear of all the ‘what ifs’ you came up with. You had exhausted yourself and this simple action put you at ease. You opened your eyes for a moment and glanced down at the books in your lap trying to decipher which one was Loki’s. 
Catching a glimpse on the side you realized the one on the bottom was Loki’s current project at hand. Grabbing it, you twisted your arm behind you and slid the book into Loki’s lap knowing that sooner or later you would end up dozing off and you figured that getting this out the way would make it easier for both of you. 
“You are truly something else.”
“And you love me for it Loki.” 
“Can’t argue that one.”
A small smile painted your face before it fell back into its relaxed state and you began to drift off. Every little thing that had happened today made you feel that you were a few steps closer to getting what you so desired with Loki.
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closer-stars · 4 years ago
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Dance With Me
Member: Wooyoung Genre: Fluff Word Count: ~3000 Requested: No Content: just dancing with wooyoung. also both of you have feelings for each other but neither of you want to say ANYTHING about it. Also ended up making a playlist for this. Might link it if anyone wants it lol. Note: got inspired when i found out he likes dancing to slow songs. this is also just a bit of a break for me from all the requests I’ve been writing. Go easy on me on this ig, it’s been quite a while since I wrote anything that wasn’t a request and just practically winged this.  Tag list: @prodbyteez @barsformars @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @miniyeo @shinyddeonghwa @wlbrzst Net: @ateezlovenet
It’s night time. Ten o’ clock to be exact. Today is supposed to be your rest day, just at home, maybe playing video games, drinking some wine, just being able to take it easy. Alas, here you are in the studio with Wooyoung. His reason? None of the members wanted to stay in the studio; even the ever hardworking San wanted to stay at home and play League or melt into the massage chair. You can’t even get yourself to agree with Wooyoung when it came to staying at home. A good quality massage chair does wonders. You also can’t turn down an offer to dance with Wooyoung. It’s been far too long since you’ve danced with him after all. 
So here you are, just vibing along to the music he’s been playing at one side of the room, while he’s trying to get into the vibe but never quite being able to. You have fun with the music changes. Truthfully his music taste has matured over the years, some of the songs were unfamiliar to you. It’s a challenge for you to explore your own abilities and body. On the other hand, his own challenge was getting into the music. He vibes for a few counts but never quite gets into it like you. He watches you for a few moments through the mirror, a little envious of how you’re able to ease yourself into it. Yet, here he is, someone who works constantly through singing and dancing but can’t get himself to dance wholeheartedly. Freely. 
Maybe that’s why he dragged you here. 
“Hey, can I change the music?” You ask. You have a bit of an idea but it depends if he was willing for a bit of a change. 
“Go for it.” He says, a little thankful that he can turn off his thoughts to songs he’s not familiar with. Truthfully, he’s been a little nervous since it’s been so long since he’s spent time with you like this. He wants to show how much he has improved over the years he couldn’t meet up with you. Unfortunately, his own feelings got him feeling like he has two left feet or at the very least, forgetting how to dance. This time, he lets you take the lead. 
The music changes. Somehow, this genre was so you that it makes his lips curve upwards. You’ve matured and changed over the years, but hearing this kind of vibe was something he would have expected from you. It’s a small reassurance for him. Once you’re satisfied, you walk over to him and there’s something in your eyes that he catches. There’s a plan brewing in your head. He doesn’t quite remember how successful your impromptu plans are. 
“Do you remember when we were trainees, when we would dance around each other? Just freestyling and improv?” You ask. The two of you were trainees under the same company at one point. Eventually, you decided to venture into a path different from his. When you had left, he only had Yeosang left. He couldn’t lose the people he held so dear to his heart. 
At the mention of those memories, he laughs, “Of course.”. How young were the two of you then, so much hope and ambition. The two of you loved dancing with each other and he hopes that the love is still there. “Why?” He asks. 
He shouldn’t have asked because by the time the question came out of his mouth, you were dancing. Your feet gliding across the floor and around him. You’ve always been graceful, even when you’re just bouncing to the beat, it just looked so effortless on you. He remembers how the two of you look so awkward dancing in these styles. Now, it seems that you’ve grown into your genre. You never lost your love for dancing even after life had led you down a different path. Just like his feelings for his dream and you. He watches you dance around him, either with his own eyes or through the mirror. He catches a few moves influenced by other dance styles and he wonders just what have you been up to all this time. Some of the moves you do, he knows where you got those: trainee years. He even catches a move that he had personally taught you. These references don’t go past him unnoticed, in fact he giggles and laughs wholeheartedly at each reference.  
The fleeting touches you give him aren’t going unnoticed either. There’s still a hint of shyness in them, only balanced by how confident you move and how the song eggs you on. You’ve always been the type to like upbeat music. The confidence boost the steady instrumental gives you was refreshing to see. You always preferred to keep your feelings and thoughts to yourself, ever so private you are. But when music plays, you come out of that shell, doing things he didn’t think you could do. This includes making his heart race. Since he doesn’t have to dance for now, he takes the time to fully appreciate you. To have your undivided attention while you dance, it felt too good to be true. 
Once the song reaches the end, you slowly stop as well, letting your energy fade into the next song. Your chest rising and falling quickly as you catch your breath. There’s a thin sheet of sweat on your forehead: it’s been a while since you’ve danced like that. The music still plays and Wooyoung stands there. It’s when you stop dancing that he spots how your bashful mannerisms return; the shy smile where your eyes scrunch close as you catch your breath. You look cute, he thinks. A little prideful of himself too, to see a side of you that not a lot of people see. 
He’s not sure of what to say, how to properly praise you after what you’ve done. The hesitance is thrown out the window and he lets the words fly out instead. “You’ve improved.” He starts. It’s hard to hide the prideful grin on his features. He praises you for your skills and patience to improve in these styles despite your already hectic schedule. After such words, you bow in thanks to his words. Truthfully, you haven’t seen how you’ve improved but if Wooyoung says you have then you’ll take his words for it. Now, you gesture for him to take over the dance floor. 
“Your turn, pretty boy.” You say simply. The praise momentarily causes his brain to buffer. This doesn’t slip by you that you smirk, proceeding to call him that name again. “I said what I said, pretty boy.” You taunt him playfully. 
The song playing now is a different one. It’s up Wooyoung’s alley this time. He decides to impress you with his skills this time. You didn’t expect anything different from him. As far as you could remember, he loved showing off his lines at the start. It didn’t matter if he does them sharp and quickly or careful and slowly, if it makes the audience breathless then he’s doing well. He takes his time dancing with the music this time. Compared to earlier, he looks a lot more relaxed. There’s just something about dancing with friends for no reason that his job as an idol can’t quite beat. The need to impress you eventually ebs away, making room for him to just be. Of course even if he just lets be, he can’t help but be a little flirty with you. Mouthing the lyrics while shooting you a wink here and there, all of which are rebuffed by you rolling your eyes. 
Both of you know better. The refusal of such flirtings really meant nothing. Neither of you speak about it though, instead just having fun to see who would cave first.
Though he loosens up now, he doesn’t miss on the chance to throw a few moves that he knows are your thing. And was it really Wooyoung, if there wasn’t any attitude in his movement? Of course he’d go as far as do the same moves you did in reference to him, all while correcting you on how to do it. Just typical Wooyoung things. Besides his dance lines, now more prominent, you can’t help but be impressed with how controlled his core is. Maybe you’ll ask for his training regime after tonight. His performance lights up a small competitive flame in you. You keep it under wraps though, you want to see what other tricks he has up his sleeve. 
It’s not tricks but you do see that he’s been able to explore just how much his body can do. He’s often on the floor, sometimes on his knees as he dances, rising up for a few counts before being on the floor once more. A small part of you wonders how he’d do when it comes to other styles of hip hop with how grounded he’s become. Just then, you catch him losing his focus, struggling a little to execute certain moves.
He can’t help it, hell, he doesn’t know why it made him lose focus. For some reason, his head decided to emphasize the mere fact, he’s dancing for you. Just the two of you. He was so used to dancing with you and other trainees that then turned into dancing with his members. Now, it’s the two of you only. Flustered feelings overpower his focus, and it shows in a small misstep, a small miss in timing. Even if he’s in the zone, he wants to be worthy of your pride. 
“Let’s go, Wooyoung.” You say, trying to put him back into the groove. You didn’t really think about holding back. You were sure that his members have seen how frustrated he can get when he loses his groove in something he’s been working on. “Let’s go.” You say, bouncing a little in the same spot. 
Without another thought, you decide to dance with him. The imagery of a puppeteer with his little puppet as you maneuver around him. There’s something that looks like surprise in Wooyoung’s eyes when he realizes you’re dancing with him now.The visuals the two of you make was refreshing. It felt right, seems like two puzzle pieces fitting right in after looking for their match for so long. Though, for you, you don’t put too much effort into dancing, doing this just to make sure Wooyoung doesn���t lose his focus. He notices what you’re doing and he feels a little strengthened to continue dancing even for a few more counts. For now, he’ll follow your lead until he’s able to drop into the music. 
The two of you drop to the floor once the song ends. Both of you heaving from the physical exertion. Just a few feet away, the sound system continues to play music that neither of you plan to stop. You look over at the male who’s spread eagle on the floor, strands of hair clinging to his skin as he catches his breath. Maybe it would’ve been nice to stand on the same stage as him but would you have been able to handle the pressure? You shake the thoughts of your head as you pull yourself up. 
“Hey, do you remember the choreo to this?” His voice cuts through the thoughts that still cling to your consciousness. The question registers into your mind and you take a moment to focus on the song. Oh. This is rather old. A song the two of you danced to for a monthly evaluation if you remember correctly. One of the rare times you danced with him at such close proximity. 
You reason with yourself that the hot feeling on your cheeks is your body’s heat from dancing for longer than you were used to. “Yeah a bit, why?” You return the question to him while you stretch your legs from the exhaustion. 
“Wanna do it?”
Your eyes look at him with disbelief. “I thought you forget choreos easily.” It’s not that you doubt him-- okay maybe just a bit, but the amount of times he has said that he forgets choreographies to you and to the camera was quite high. 
Your question clearly goes through one ear and out the other. Typical. “Let’s just give it a shot.” He says, pushing himself up with what you can only assume was something he picked up from breaking. Always the flashy guy he was, wanting to flex whenever possible. He walks over to you, offering his hand to pull you up to your feet. 
Who are you to say no? 
When you hold onto his hand, he pulls you up and against his chest. The prideful smirk already on his lips. The voice in your head berates you for falling for such a classic trick from him. As if you’d complain though. But you don’t show how affected you are by such actions, and instead, you lightly whack his chest, thus giving you the chance to get away. 
Did that matter? Not quite because eventually, the two of you would have to dance together.
With that, the dancing begins again. The two of you twist against each other, switching positions that showcases each other’s skills. At certain segments, one of you would forget what comes next-- the things that says this would be either a panicked yelp from you, or an awkward questioning sound from Wooyoung. When one forgets what’s next, the other manages to remember and lead them. It’s all smooth sailing until the two of you forget what comes next. 
The two of you are just looking at your reflections, frozen in the same pose. Either of you hoping the other remembers and puts the two of you back on track. “Freestyle?” He proposes.
“Call. Face me.” 
The two of you are now looking at each other, dancing with each other in your own respective colors. It’s interesting to see how the two of you are dancing to the same song yet catching different beats. This goes on for a few counts, until Wooyoung snaps back into focus. Looks like he remembers the next step. 
“Let’s dance like this.” 
You follow his lead but it came with a bit of a price; to put it simply, it was a little flustering. It felt like you were looking at a mirror but not quite. It’s not surprising that you’d stumble at the confusing visuals that didn’t quite match with the vague memories in your head. Your flustered state isn’t missed by Wooyoung who eyes you with soft glee. Fortunately for you, you catch your pace again and dance confidently to him. 
He dances with just as much confidence to you. A privy smile creeping upon his features as he approaches you through the music. He knows you won’t move away so he takes his time. Any step back the two of you do were part of the choreography. From here onwards, the two of you know the choreography by heart. How can you not? 
The choreography ends with the two of you looking at each other. Wooyoung bending a little lower always, as you always look downwards at the end. He won’t miss out on an opportunity to see that cute shy look on your face when you realize how close he is to you. 
You can’t berate yourself either for liking how close he is. That cheeky smile he has that only you get to see does things to your stomach. The last four counts have the two of you just doing simple two steps grooving out the rest of the song out. 
After that session, your playlist ends right on time. But when the songs end, that’s when Wooyoung’s noise starts. The male lets out a relieved groan as he drops to his butt onto the floor, catching his breath. You let out the breath you’ve been holding since he got so close to you as you get your phone. After unplugging your phone from the system, you return your attention to the man who has evidently stripped his pullover off to cool his body down. 
“Walk around. Lying down after dancing isn’t going to help.” You chide him. Old habits really die hard with that guy. 
For once, he listens immediately. He pulls himself up and picks up his things. “Let’s go grab something to eat?” The look of incredulity on your face makes him raise his shoulders, unfazed by how sharp you look right now. “What? You said walk around, so let’s get out of here and grab something to eat, I’m hungry.” In other words: I don’t want this night with you to end just yet. 
Moments of silence pass over you. You were going to regret the less than usual hours of sleep you’ll get tonight but you’d regret not spending time with him more. “Let me grab my stuff, you switch off the stuff here cause I don’t want any property damage on my hands.”  He grins widely, victorious at his persuasion. “Besides, you owe me a lot of stories.” You add as you grab all your belongings. 
He does as he’s told and then hooks his arm right over your shoulders. “For starters, give me your new number. That way, you don’t miss me too much.” The two of you leave the studio all while Wooyoung recounts his stories to you. 
“Excuse me! You’re the one who dragged me here. You’re the one who misses me.” 
He wonders if you can feel how fast his heart races to have you in his arms like this. He can always excuse with from all the dancing no matter how stupid it can sound. 
He likes what he has with you right now, no rush. It’s obvious how you got feelings for each other but there’s no pressure in confessing. The night will forever be young as long as he’s with you.
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imaginesandinserts · 5 years ago
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Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils
Title: Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~11K
Irreverent Series Masterlist
You'd just arrived at the airport when you got the call from Clyde informing you that there was a terror alert across the EU and flights were being grounded. He'd coordinate agents on the ground but there wasn't much you could do from the States, so you were off the hook until things got figured out.
Great, now what? *------------* Aaron walked towards the plane with the rest of the team, with Reid already spouting facts around unsubs who preferred to shoot their victims from a distance rather than up close. He climbs up the steps and turning, is greeted by you, seated in your usual chair. "Hey, what're you doing here?" He walks up towards you, the rest of the team following close behind, equally surprised to see you. "EU terror alert," you explain while he stashes his luggage away, nodding hello to everyone else. "Clyde said I'm free for the time being and I was already at the airport. Garcia read me in." "Well, it'll be good to have you, kid." Rossi takes a seat in the aisle across from you guys. "Seems like an all hands on deck sort of situation." Everyone settles in and you can't help but notice the small smile that seems to linger on Aaron ever since he saw you. The two of you had only had the past three days together and throughout that, you'd had a soccer match for Jack, a birthday party for one of his friends, and you'd spent Saturday night with the girls; needless to say, it had been tough to get time together for just the two of you. "Was Jack okay?" you ask, turning to Aaron after everyone had finished talking through some of the case details and started to build a preliminary profile on the Unsub. Aaron nods, but your question catches JJ's attention, who looks to you with her eyebrows raised, the puzzled expression on her face imploring you to explain. You're unable to help the smirk that plays at your lips as you do. "We had a - um - staff meeting this morning that Jack wasn't invited to. He wasn't too happy that the door was locked," you explain, biting your lip and barely stifling your giggles. "A staff meeting?" Emily raises her eyebrows at you and you can just imagine the dirty thoughts running through her mind along with the Wow Y/N only soccer moms call getting railed a staff meeting. You meet Aaron's eye and you can see the soft blush to his cheeks that only you would notice. "I simultaneously regret and appreciate my choice of words there," you murmur to him as he shakes his head in amused disapproval. Derek barks out a laugh in reaction to Emily. "Uh huh. Was it a successful meeting?" he asks, wagging his eyebrows at you, toeing the line at ribbing Aaron as well. "I think both parties were pleased with the outcome. At least according to my notes." You turned to look at Aaron, mirth flitting into your gaze. "Would you concur?" He has a small smirk on his face mirroring yours, no doubt thinking back to the fifteen minutes the two of you had caught together before you had to get ready to leave for the airport - once against the aforementioned locked bedroom door and a second in the shower, before you begged him to relent, otherwise you'd be late. He'd been intent on a third. "Some good points were made. However, we might have to do a follow up to ensure we're still aligned," he drawls, getting far too much enjoyment out of the effect his words and low voice would have on you. You lose it at that, unable to keep a straight face. Follow up indeed. "Gross. I feel like I just watched my parents flirting." JJ groans, pushing up from her seat to go rummage around for snacks in the back. She was due anytime now and would be gone on maternity leave starting the following week. She was already mostly out of the field, staying in the precinct and managing the team from there. You knew, that as a result of that, Aaron was actually out in the field a lot more because he trusted JJ to handle the emotions and politics of local officials far better than anyone else. "Morgan, could you check if we're stocked on the M4 ammunition?" Aaron switches gears towards preparing for the landing, a quick brush of his hand to your thigh in promise that there would indeed be a follow up to this morning's activities. Derek nods and gets up, checking on the rifles stock that was brought along. With an Unsub like this, the team would need to be equally equipped to handle any situations that might arise, especially in a sprawling Texas city where guns were aplenty. "Guys," Spencer pipes up, "I don't think I'm actually allowed to use those." He glances around at the rest of the team apprehensively, as Derek and Aaron share a calculated look at his admission. "You're not," they both tell him almost simultaneously, drawing a snort from both you and Emily while Rossi merely smiles and shakes his head, turning his head back to his notes. Reid looks offended and turns on you at that. "Are you certified to shoot those?" His tone implied that he highly doubted you. "I've been shooting since I was six years old," you inform him, a superior look on your face. "I actually set the Academy record for most weapons certifications earned by a trainee." Aaron presses his lips together to keep from smiling while Emily shakes her head with a laugh at you goading Reid. "I didn't know six year olds were allowed to handle guns." "If you're rich in Connecticut, you can do pretty much anything. Just look at the Kennedys." "Touché."
Spencer grumbles to himself a bit more, slouching into his chair. It was his one weak point and he was getting better at it, really. On pretty much everything else, you're sure he'd have you beat.
You turn towards the research you'd been conducting on your own case with Clyde, in your downtime. Things were starting to fit together in an unexpected manner, and you'd had to bend a few rules to start putting all the different pieces in, but you were finally making some headway. It would definitely be faster and easier if you could enlist Garcia's help or bounce ideas off of Aaron, but your hands were unfortunately tied due to the high level of clearance you'd had to obtain to work this case in the first place.
Aaron watches as your head is bent in concentration, his own focus flickering away from the case ahead. You'd only been home for three days but you'd mentioned that your assignment at last had an end in sight. He's hopeful that that means things will be calming down - the two of you would be around one another more again. While Jack had so far done a good job of keeping the secret, he also gave his father a very telling, excited look anytime he saw you, and Aaron could often see Jack's eyes going to your hand where he hoped a ring would soon sit.
*------------*
All of the bodies thus far had been found at the grounds of various places of worship around the city - a few Churches, a Temple, and a Mosque. It would appear most of the actual killings had happened at a different location and the bodies were then moved and left to be found the next morning by unsuspecting worshippers, children, and groundskeepers. The Unsub was an equal opportunity killer - no discrimination in the religious leanings of his victims.
So far the victimology was all over the board - a college student, a local politician, a priest, a housewife, and a video game developer were the five victims so far. It read like the beginnings of a bad joke. A rabbi, a priest, and a horse walk into a bar…
The Unsub had left the bodies of each victim at their chosen place of worship. That, in itself, felt highly personal so there was a chance that the Unsub personally knew each of their victims. This was supported by the methodology - killing the victims from afar was easier on this particular Unsub's constitution.
The team had been spitballing; attempting to establish a connection between the victims. Reid and JJ were working on the geographic profile. Well, Spencer was at least. JJ kept having to leave to go to the restroom every five minutes. In that moment, you definitely did not envy pregnant women. Bearing children wrecked one's body.
The obvious religious themes were all in scope. The theory at the forefront was that each of the victims was being punished for a perceived sin, and Garcia was doing a deeper dive into their finances and online history while the rest of you got to know the families and the victims personally to wrangle out the truth. This was the most difficult part usually - even if someone was an awful person whilst alive, most people became reluctant to speak ill of the dead.
Trusting JJ to handle the centralized headquarters that the team had set up, Aaron left with you to do one set of the interviews. He wanted to speak to the parishioners of the church where the priest had been found, his body jutting out of the confessional booth. You both noted that it was on the opposite side from where the priests would typically sit, symbolically speaking to the fact that the Unsub considered the priest to be a sinner.
"I mean, he's a priest in a Catholic church," you said as the two of you walked up the pathway to the entrance. "The obvious definitely comes to mind."
Aaron agrees with a grimace. Father Patrick had led a youth group and had been doing so for the past decade. There was a high chance the Unsub could be a current or prior victim of sexual assault at his hands. He could also be someone whom a potential victim had confided in, so your suspect list was pretty wide open for the time being.
As suspected, every conversation you had - with church docents and members alike - was highly complimentary to Father Patrick. He was good with the children, kind to the female staff, had a fairly middle ground interpretation of the Bible; an all-around pillar of the community.
"Hopefully Morgan and Prentiss have better luck."
You nod, buckling in your seatbelt and commandeering the music, electing to actually play the White Album for once, drawing a smile from Aaron. He pulls out of the parking space and heads back towards the precinct. You smile to yourself as Aaron's deep voice croons along to Dear Prudence, his fingers tapping along to the beat against the steering wheel while you look out the window at the twilight Texas sky.
*------------*
"So, the girl, Rachel - total know-it-all, not unlike someone else we know…"
Reid glares at Emily as she trails off with a smirk. Her and Derek had gone to do another set of the interviews at the local university and had talked to classmates and professors to learn more about the first victim.
"We all have our suspicions about Father Patrick, but nothing conclusive there. The Councilwoman was taking bribes to block the legislation around the city's free internet policy per Garcia's research. That leaves Mrs. Abad and Ryan Cohen, the designer. We can't tell what their secret might've been, besides some high balances on a credit card for Mrs. Abad."
The team nods at Hotch, confirming his summary of the case so far.
"JJ and I have narrowed down the field to three epicenters across the city." You're surprised that Spencer gave JJ any credit at all for the work they'd done together. JJ had confided in you upon your return, that she'd told Spencer she was going to the bathroom and had instead taken a twenty minute power nap in a supply closet. Her maternity leave could not start soon enough, and you're glad that she's handling this pregnancy in a much more relaxed manner than the first, allowing herself the time off properly.
"Based on the current cadence, we could have another victim in the next couple of days." Rossi looks around the room grimly. You're all well aware that the window to catch the Unsub before another victim materializes is closing quickly. It also usually tends to speed up once the team arrives on the scene. Makes Unsubs nervous. Eager to finish the job faster.
"Would you say Councilwoman Crane was guilty of the sin of greed?" Derek's brow is furrowed, the beginnings of a concrete thought evident in his question.
You nod, encouraging him to continue.
"Pride for the first victim, Rachel."
You agree again, but this time the rest of them are also following along.
"Seven Deadly Sins," Spencer surmises from Derek's trail of crumbs.
"What are all of them?" Emily asks, looking between Derek and Spencer.
Derek shifts from one foot to the other. "Pride, Greed," he lists off, counting with his thumb and index finger.
"Lust, Envy," Aaron supplies, tacking on to the end of Derek's sentence and prompting him to continue the count.
"Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth," Spencer finishes, turning to write them all down in order on the whiteboard.
The team was finally making some headway.
You stand towards the back of the room looking at the victim board, arms crossed across your chest, leaning against the back wall. "So, let's assume its Lust for Father Patrick. The excessive shopping could be indicative of Envy from Mrs. Abad. You guys did say she lived in a posh neighborhood. Keeping Up With the Joneses lifestyle."
"That leaves Gluttony for Cohen. Kid was pudgy." Rossi had been the one to visit the Medical Examiner, so you all trusted his assessment there.
"They're all in order. Could it be that simple?" Aaron questions, leaned forward in his chair, looking at the board with each of the victims' names listed next to one of the sins.
You contemplate his question as does everyone else. Could it be that simple? An Unsub working down the list of deadly sins, picking out victims that aligned with each one. It would stand to reason, given the working profile - you'd all decided that the Unsub must have an Orthodox religious upbringing, in a militant household.
"Occam's Razor," you answer finally, meeting his eyes, a grim set to your face. This meant there were at least two more victims planned. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one."
*------------*
In the past couple of days, the team had narrowed down the scope of the case, having realized that the Unsub had met all of the victims through various volunteer activities. The working theory was that the Unsub had deemed the victims to all be hypocrites - claiming to be doing charitable works while sinning on the side.
Garcia had cross-referenced volunteer activities between the various places of worship and had come up with charities that all of them supported throughout the city. From there she'd catalogued registered volunteers across all of them, against activities each of the victims attended, however hadn't been able to narrow it down enough.
So, here you were manning the precinct late at night with Aaron, Derek, and Emily. The team was taking it in shifts to see if any missing persons calls came in, with victims fitting into either of the final two remaining sins - Wrath and Sloth. Unfortunately, there were simply far too many options for you to be able to determine who might become the unwitting victim in this Unsub's crusade.
It was calm and quiet, only the whirring of the fan and ambient sounds of the printer filling the silence. The four of you had already eaten and were all nursing hot cups of coffee in order to stay awake in the otherwise empty station. Public statements had been made and hotlines set up in case anyone could provide even a hint as to who the Unsub might be.
Emily was slouched over at the table, her arms cradling her head as another yawn escaped her. Bleary eyed, she looks at you and you weren't much better off, only barely keeping your eyes open, tilting back in your own chair in order to simulate the feeling of tipping over; effectively scaring yourself into staying awake. Derek was seated in front of the laptop, with Garcia on video. The two of them had been playing some game, however it appeared that she'd tired of it, being nearly two hours of a time difference ahead of the rest of you. So now, Derek was just watching her snooze, head bent down to her desk.
You look at Aaron, reading the notes Reid had left behind in order to try and make some sense of everything - uncover something that had slipped through the cracks. His brow is furrowed, head bent in concentration. He'd shed the jacket a while ago and despite the time of year, the Texan climate had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing delicious swathes of forearm for your perusal. His hands - so large compared to your own, the veins prominent as he flips a page, muscle tensing and flexing as he does. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. It was the sleep deprivation. It was getting to you. Yeah, that's it. Not your big, strong boyfriend looking all serious and focused and handsome as he tries to hunt down a serial killer. Nope. Not at all…
You stand up suddenly as your chair tips forward, all four legs finally hitting the ground with a soft crash, cushioned by the carpeted flooring. Loud enough, however, to get Aaron's attention, as he turns to look up at you, the Are you alright? plain to read in his eyes.
"Need fresh air. Gonna go take a walk around the block or something," you explain, shaking your head of the cobwebs that had formed over the course of the past two hours, as the night had slipped into what could better be classified as early morning.
Aaron sets the papers down and turns to Morgan, indicating that he was going to join you. If you thought he was letting you go out alone, at this hour, with a killer on the loose, you were certifiable.
He watches as you slip on your blazer but he doesn't bother with his own. It would be quick and it wasn't too cold anymore. He follows you through the precinct and out the front doors, down the steps, matching your shorter pace easily - he's used to it by now.
"You sure you're alright?" he asks, once the two of you have reached the street. You merely hum tiredly and nod, so he grabs your hand in his, and walks in step with you, turning the corner past the precinct.
It is a little colder outside than it was inside, but his larger hand encompasses yours entirely, making you feel like a child swathed in his warm embrace. The cool air filters through your nostrils, reinvigorating your mind, giving it the jumpstart needed to function once more.
The two of you don't talk as you walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, him walking on the outside as he always does. Only the streetlamps are on, little pockets of light between stretches of darkness. Your mind is at peace. You aren't thinking about this case or your other one. You aren't thinking about any responsibilities and obligations. No worries. Just silent. It's so rare for your mind to be quiet that you relish in it. Allow yourself to bathe in the soundless symphony occupying the chasm in your brain.
As you approach the final turn that will lead you back to the entrance of the station, you find yourself watching Aaron again. He'd been so patient with the entire case with Interpol, despite it taking a toll on him. He'd been pulling double duty - doing all the things he does while also subbing in for everything you're unable to do at home. Him and Jack had sent you a cooking video of the two of them last time you'd been away, as Jack bossed Aaron around in the kitchen and helped him make your chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale at school. You'd sent Aaron detailed instructions, as he'd have to be the one to help Jack brown the butter and ensure he didn't burn himself. You knew he must have been frustrated with the extremely particular list of ingredients you'd sent him, down to the brand of salt flakes (the pièce de résistance of the entire experience)  that got sprinkled on top. Yet, he'd tackled it all with aplomb, not complaining to you even once. Jack had confided in you afterwards that Aaron had had to go to three different stores because the salt flakes were a rare item and not every branch of the nicer grocery store carried them. He'd done it though, and Jack had told you they'd turned out exactly like yours. Even Emily had texted you to validate this, asking if you'd come back without telling her when Aaron had brought a batch in for the team the following day.
Aaron feels a tug on his hand right before the turn. You'd stopped and his hand was still holding yours, forcing him to stop as well. You're stood in the shadows, right between two patches of light, your face immersed in darkness, and before he can say anything, he's lightly pushed against the brick wall exterior of the police station building. He lands with a soft oomph. You lean up against him, pressing yourself along the length of him and going up on your toes - utilizing the entirety of your ballet training - your lips meeting his in a heated kiss. He groans into your mouth, hands wrapping around your hips on instinct alone, tongue tracing your bottom lip before gently nipping at it, taking advantage of your resulting gasp to make his way into your mouth, licking every part of you available to him. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and turns to hold you against the wall instead, pressing into the inviting warm juncture of your thighs.
"What brought this on?" he hums, moving from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.
You shiver at his efforts, a flip in your stomach as you feel the edge of his teeth, followed by the soft bite at the bend of your neck. Unable to answer him, lost in the feeling of his lips and teeth against your skin, your hands mussing through his hair, softly pulling and drawing vibrated groans from him.
At the absence of an answer, he pauses, looking up until he has your full attention, meeting your darkened eyes contrasting against your bashful expression. Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours. "I love you," you muster with some concentration, soft and blissful, pulling his face back down to meet your sweetly puckered lips once more, drawing him into the cacophonous sea of feeling along with you.
By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room that Derek and Emily were sat in, Emily has stood up, leaning flat against the back wall. Derek has moved as well, taking residence in your old chair, leaning backwards much the same way you had.
"What about you guys?" he asks as you and Aaron enter.
You avoid Emily's knowing look. "What about us?"
"This whole thing - case - heaven and hell. You believe in it?"
"I went the agnostic route," Emily adds, stretching and arching her back like a cat. "If it exists, great. If not, no skin off my back."
Derek looks at the two of you expectantly.
Aaron nods quickly, returning to his old seat, feeling a lot lighter than before. He'd grown up Catholic - heaven and hell were ever-present concepts in his home.
You shrug, grabbing your lukewarm cup of coffee and dropping onto the couch. Your family had been more religious for the sake of appearances and connections rather than any true faith-inspired feelings.
Derek chuckles lightly. "Okay, so if they do exist," he says, turning back to Emily who had sunk down to the floor, seated with her legs stretched out in front of her. "Where you think you're headed?"
"Let me guess, you think you're going to heaven," Emily taunts, a mocking grin on her face.
"I do good, I am good," Derek replies assuredly. "Everything else is up to God. Right, Hotch?"
Aaron breathes out half a laugh along with a raise of his brows, which was about as much agreement Derek could hope for there.
"What about you Princess?"
You look at him, slight roll of your eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty sure patricide rules me out for a ticket to heaven," you respond, your words coated with sardonic dismissal.
Heaven. Hell. What did it even matter when you're dead?
It was a good thing that you hadn't looked at Aaron at that, because if you had, you would've noticed an entirely odd expression on his face at your words - he decides to pin his thoughts for a conversation at a later time. Once the case was wrapped up.
*------------*
"Anything you know could help us identify your husband's killer. Were you able to get a good look at him?"
JJ and Derek are running the interrogation on the latest victim's wife while the rest of the team watches from the other room. The body had been found at the edges of yet another church's grounds, marking it as the sixth victim. However, this time, a witness had emerged. The Unsub had taken Dylan Rogers from his front yard at gunpoint and Ashley Rogers, his wife, had seen it all happen from the living room before calling it in to the precinct.
"She seems tense - her shoulders have been hunched this entire time. Her facial expressions have varied from somber to haunted almost." Reid shifts closer as he profiles Mrs. Rogers, studying her body language.
"Morgan said it seemed like he might have hit her. He saw some bruising when she went to the house to pick her up," Prentiss adds, her voice grave.
Aaron acknowledges both Reid and Prentiss with a nod, his eyes fixed on the interaction taking place in the other room.
"Would fit into the umbrella of Wrath." Rossi mused from beside Aaron. All of you continue to watch while JJ brings in a sketch artist to help Mrs. Rogers construct a likeness of the Unsub.
"It must be killing her - if it's true. Having to help find his killer. Imagine the number of times she must've dreamt of hurting him in the same way he hurt her." All of you turn from Emily back to Mrs. Rogers, thinking on her statement.
"She could've left," Reid reasoned distractedly, his expression casually appraising Mrs. Rogers still for any signs that she might be concealing anything.
You find yourself bristling at that, and you've spoken out before you could stop yourself. "You know, it's funny how whenever we see cases like this. Cases where a man continuously beat up his partner, that's the question on everyone's lips. Why didn't she leave? Why did she stay?"
Reid turns to you, his mouth open and ready to contradict you or apologize, you're unsure, but you continue. "We never ask, why didn't he stop?"
Emily snorts from beside you, her lips pressed tightly together as you both watch Mrs. Rogers working with the sketch artist. She turns to Spencer after a look at you. "Because we accept men as monsters. That is their natural state. Those of them that didn't give in to it - we exalt them. We call them good men. Better men. Because they didn't beat us and hurt us and watch us bleed."
There's a tense silence but this is a sentiment that none of them are unfamiliar with. Reid should've known better.
You see Spencer shift uncomfortably, obviously apologetic for his earlier statement. You shake your head slightly and offer him a small smile, reassuring him that he's alright. This kind of stuff, just hits closer to home for some of you.
Your eyes meet Aaron's and he's looking at you with the question in his eyes that you'd expected as soon as you'd opened your mouth. You shake your head at him too, before turning your gaze back to the front.
Aaron watches you for a beat more, his eyes trained to the side of your face, your unwavering eyes set upon Ashley Rogers and your words swimming in his mind. His eyes had asked the question that he already knew the answer to unfortunately. Yet another reason for him to despise Matthew van Doren's entire existence.
"You know, there was a time I thought he was the love of my life." You all can hear Mrs. Rogers talking to JJ as the sketch artist wraps up. "We had that love - that wake up Sunday morning with pancakes and lose yourself in each other under white sheets kind of love. I don't know when it all went wrong."
*------------*
With the aid of Mrs. Rogers' description, Garcia was able to run a digitally enhanced version of the sketch against all known volunteers who had been at most of the events attended by each of the victims in the weeks prior to their deaths. After that, apprehending the Unsub was just a matter of tying together the identified man to each of the victims directly.
The team was able to prevent the final murder, and while that was of little solace to everyone, there was a tiny part of you that felt happy for Ashley Rogers in all of it. Sometimes the exit route we need arrives in the most unexpected of manners, and it is on us to recognize it and seize it for ourselves. You really hoped that Ashley would claim a new and better destiny for herself.
Since it was late, Aaron was unable to get the jet to fly back the same night, so the team was huddled into a corner of the hotel lounge with drinks in hand. While you're thrilled that you were able to prevent the final victim from being taken, this wasn't the best case the team had worked. You can see it in everyone's eyes, the way they hold their drinks, the hushed whispers contemplating if there was something that would've pointed to him sooner.
You feel bad that you aren't even really thinking about this case anymore. Your mind is preoccupied by the contents of the file you've left upstairs in the hotel room. You nod along to Emily and Derek's conversation, glass of wine held languidly in hand while you mentally collate the work you'd done so far. You know you're contributing nothing to the current conversation, and mercifully both of them have left you to your thoughts. Knowing there's not much chance of you being able to distract yourself tonight, you stand and bid good night to them before walking over to Aaron and Rossi, seated over a chessboard with Reid. They were playing two against one and Reid was still the favored choice to win.
"I'm going to head upstairs." You lean in and whisper softly to Aaron so as to not disrupt the game.
He turns his head to look up, brow furrowed ever so much. It wasn't like you to turn in early when there was a chance to socialize with the team. "I can come with." He grabs his drink as though to finish it, but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder.
"It's alright. Stay." You brush a kiss against his temple before nodding good night to the rest of them, intent on making some progress once you reached the room.
By the time Aaron gets upstairs, it is much later. Reid had won but Rossi had insisted on a rematch. Rossi just wanted to see Reid beat just once, however Aaron was wise to not bring attention to the fact that you've never played him. He knows that Reid has asked you, but you've made up excuses to not play. He'd always wondered about that, and having seen the chessboard in the New York apartment had made him realize that there was actually a good chance that you could beat Reid if you wanted to. Reid was a genius. That fact couldn't be denied. He knew everything about everything. You were different from that. Reid was driven by his pure drive for knowledge - that desire to understand the world around him better. You learned with more purpose, intention - with the need to add knowledge and skills to your toolkit, ready to whip out and be unleashed upon your opponents.
He enters the room just to see you exiting the bathroom, a robe wrapped around your body. He can't help but sigh internally at the sight. His soft, fluffy, perfect little personal teddy bear. He couldn't wait to just crawl into bed, already fearing that you'd be on another flight out the following day.
You acknowledge his presence with a smile, while toweling your hair dry.
"Who won?" There's a crooked smile on your face as you watch him take off his jacket and tie. As if you didn't already know who would win.
"Reid. Rossi wants another rematch on the plane." He shakes his head, walking further into the room. Closer to you.
You laugh softly as Aaron reaches you, looking exhausted from the long week and yet, he seems alright. All in all, this case hadn't been absolutely terrible. "Hasn't he learned his lesson by now?"
"He's a glutton for punishment." He steps forward, grabbing the towel from you and prompting you to turn around as he takes over drying your hair with soft tussles, allowing the cloth to absorb water all the way from root to end.
You hum at his actions, letting yourself to be lulled into the peaceful, floaty state that you always enter whenever he plays with your hair. It just felt too good.
"You should just give in and play him sometime." He knows he's pulling at that little thread there, curious as to how you'll react at him having deduced something you hadn't told him upfront.
You merely chuckle softly, seemingly unsurprised that he'd worked that out for himself. His profiling skills no longer surprise you much, especially when it comes to yourself. He could read you like none other. "We wouldn't want Spencer to cry, now would we?"
Aaron bites his lip, preventing a smile threatening to sneak out at that. It was nice knowing he'd been right about that. He'd have to make you play him at least. He needed to see how good you were for himself.
You turn around, halting his actions. You'd gotten a call from Clyde when you'd gotten upstairs and you were already set to fly out tomorrow on a red eye. You'd booked the ticket, making the necessary upgrades on your own dime.
"Tomorrow?" he guessed, noting the expression on your face when you looked up at him, drawing yourself up on your toes and wrapping your arms  around his neck, the towel slipping from his hands and onto the floor between your feet.
You nod with a sigh, before coaxing him down, and he's quick to meet your lips with his own, knowing the two of now only have tonight. Tomorrow would be spent on the plane and then you'd have to fly out before he'd get even another hour alone with you. His hands instinctively find your waist, drawing you in flush against him. He deepens the kiss when one of your hands moves from his neck to cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the peaking stubble around his jaw. You hate leaving like this. You can't wait for it to be over. For there to be no more goodbyes layering his touch and yours.
Aaron hugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you fully, the plush robe giving him far more to grab on to. Your lips against his, moving softly, insistently. You break away, struggling to be on your toes for much longer, so he moves, pushing you up onto the desk and coming to stand between your legs as your lips find their place once more against his, this time hands working at the buttons to his shirt as well.
"Wanted to talk to you about something." He breaks away, allowing you to pepper kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. If the two of you only had today, he didn't want to risk forgetting and having the issue go stale before bringing it up again. He can feel your mouth, sucking, teeth lightly grazing the skin at his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks for him to admire afterwards when you were gone. At your hum, he continues relying on your ability to multitask. "Did you mean it, when you said you aren't going to heaven?"
You pause, looking up at him curiously and being reminded of the question Derek had asked. You hadn't realized it had affected Aaron, and yet thinking back on it, of course it had. Your answer had been entirely flippant. He was so serious when it came to things like this. "Yes. I did." Your voice is measured as you answer him, eyeing him carefully to watch his reaction. Even still, his hands have managed past the tie on your robe and his hands are caressing the bare skin of your sides, drawing a soft sigh from your mouth at the sensation. "By any definition of heaven and God and the Bible, murder isn't exactly condoned."
Had this been a few months ago, Aaron knew that this would have been an entirely different conversation. He could appreciate how entirely blunt you're able to be about how you've framed this for yourself. He might not agree with it, but he can appreciate the honesty. "Bible also says an eye for an eye." He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he wasn't about to let this go. Not when it came to the matter of your immortal soul. This mattered to him.
A gasp escapes you as his hands travel up your sides more deliberately, causing shivers against your sensitive skin at the feel of his roughly calloused fingers skimming, exploring, claiming. That's what his touch always felt like. A claim.
You try to focus as you think of a response, hands resuming unbuttoning his shirt and undoing the buckle to his belt. You can see he's already hard and as your fingers ghost over the bulge, he exhales sharply, eyes focused on your hands.
Realizing he wasn't getting an answer from you immediately, he helps you out by undoing the button and lowering the zipper on his pants, taking them off as you watch. You're a little confused by the conversation taking place, but you also knew this going into a relationship with Aaron. Like it or not, he was religious. Your family simply hadn't been much. It wasn't the same religious orthodoxy that Aaron had grown up with, at the very least. He wasn't by any means stringent about it, but some beliefs were innate. Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. As far as he was concerned, you were a good person.
"Heaven and hell - I didn't grow up with that. But that whole eye for an eye thing, I don't think that really applies when it comes to taking a life." You help him slip the shirt off of his shoulders as you speak, the material slipping and falling to the ground as well. Aaron actually undoes the tie to your robe this time, pushing the material off of you almost roughly, eager to expose skin that he couldn't wait to taste. His hands move up to cup your breasts, kneading the flesh - the air in the room and his attentions causing your nipples to pucker, teasing him. He's unable to resist bending down and taking one into his mouth, gently sucking as his fingers tweak the other into submission as well, drawing a keening sound from deep within you, distracting you from your train of thought as you're drenched in the warmth of his touch.
You're entirely bare before him as his mouth moves to the other nipple, hands traveling down, grazing over your stomach and down your thighs, causing them to tremble. He pushes your legs apart, letting go of the nipple, his mouth returning to yours with a renewed fervor. His fingers pick up the evidence of your arousal around them, and he caresses your folds, before entering you with two fingers, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing over it as his fingers scissor inside you, locating the spot that has you arching your back, moans escaping you into his mouth.
Aaron releases your mouth so that he can watch you. Your hands scramble for purchase, bunching into the robe beneath you that soaks up your juices as he continues to work you up. Higher and higher. Your breath panting, breasts thrust up as you can feel the orgasm threatening to overtake your body. It only takes another circular motion of his thumb and the ask to Let go by him, for you to go crashing under the waves, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He watches you fall apart, your arms going up to hug against your breasts as you arch and shake and moan for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as he continues his machinations against your sensitive bud, intent on drawing it out. He loves to just watch you like this. Begging him to keep going, your breathy voice urging him on, your gorgeous face, mouth falling open - all for him. His beautiful little princess, entirely at his mercy.
He kisses you again as you come down, your earlier conversation entirely wiped from your mind. But not his. Never his. Aaron could focus and keep track of things in amazing order. He hated that you thought you weren't destined for heaven. It shouldn't matter - such an abstract concept and who even knew, really. But in the off chance it did, he didn't want you to think you'd be excluded. You couldn't be.
Your jelly arms and legs wrap around him and he's already worked down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock, eager to be buried inside you. He gathers you up in his arms, pulling you to the edge of the desk, before lifting you up and moving the two of you to the bed, managing to drop you onto it sideways, before quickly climbing on top.
You move your hands to card through his hair, watching him, his lovely brown eyes looking down at you, causing a flurry of emotion in your stomach. He leans down and slots his lips against yours once more, allowing you to get lost in the feel of him. You release him with a gasp, finding it difficult to take in air, and he allows you to breathe as he moves and presses a kiss to your shoulder, entering you in one quick thrust. "Genesis 9:5 says, for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting."
What? You couldn't believe him. He was quoting the fucking Bible while buried in you to the hilt.
"Aaron - "
You're cut off as he moves out, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, distractingly. Perfectly. Fuck.
He enters you again, harshly, his cock finding that spot inside you as he does. His voice deep and guttural, a groan falling from his mouth as he invades you fully once more. "From each man, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man."
He was still doing it. How could he even remember to quote the Bible right then?! You couldn't even remember your own name.
You don't have the words as Aaron continues, pumping into you, his hand finding your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Neither one of you would last long. You're already a trembling, shuddering mess beneath him, back arched up, feet planted against the mattress for support, your hands traveling and touching any skin of his they could reach.
You can feel his breath hot against your ear, the weight of him on top of you as he ruts his hips against yours, and you can tell he's close. So very close. His hips stutter as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly, just enough. "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed." He was intent on fucking the verse into you. You release a broken cry at the feel of him. At his words. The passionate, gravely quality of his voice. He finishes with a loud groan, spilling into you, his ministrations against your clit paying off, propelling you towards the precipice as well. Your walls squeeze his cock, pulsing, clenching at the feel of his release inside you. He groans again, dropping on top of you, his hand going down and wrapping your thigh around him, pushing himself further into you still.
He lays on you for a moment longer, the only sound in the room being your breath and thudding hearts, beating in sync.
You're entirely drowned in ecstasy, even as you try to grasp onto the threads of the conversation the two of you had been having. You run your fingers through his soft hair, brushing back the sweat from his forehead, not minding the weight of him on you. He was crushing you entirely and you wouldn't exchange that for anything. No death could be better. Sweeter.
He rolls off of you after a few more moments, dropping next to you on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.
You breathe deeply, before flipping over to lay on your back. You can feel the evidence of both of your releases inside you, but you can't be too bothered to care right then. Your hazy mind has managed to remember the conversation, and you turn your head, tucking your arms underneath to support it as you watch Aaron. He's laid on his back, one arm under his head, eyes closed and chest rising and falling, slowly settling into a steady state.
"If I wasn't going to hell for the patricide already, I'm definitely going to hell now for finding that far too hot." Your voice comes out low and whiny, a near whisper being all you could manage.
Aaron releases a breath of a laugh before he turns to settle on his side, drawing his legs up, moving closer so he's right beside you. So you can feel his skin against yours.
You reach out, your hand cupping his face and he leans in all too willingly, kissing you softly, completely. As he pulls back, you can feel his eyes examining you - searching. Trying to figure out what exactly it is that had you so thoroughly convinced that you didn't belong in heaven. Because he knows you and while at the time killing your father had been awful, he knew that you believed it had been right. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it.
"Can we accept the premise that killing your father isn't a dealbreaker?" he asks cautiously, his hand reaches out, settling into the curve of your waist, fingers curling into the skin. "What is it really?"
You blink, moving into his embrace, hands fidgeting slightly. You're nervous and you're sure he can tell. However, you know you need to tell him. Tell someone. If anyone should know, it's him. You lick your lips and sigh, looking up into his darkened eyes. "You've met my father. If you had to profile him, how would you do it?" Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure.
Your question is met by some apprehension. Aaron isn't certain, however he hesitantly answers you. "Control freak. Narcissist with a God complex."
You nod at his blunt assessment. "Did you ever wonder why my father - why he let me get away with so much?"
He hadn't.
"I broke off an exceptionally advantageous engagement. He did nothing. I cashed out my trust fund and ran away - slutting it up - " He flinches. " - on the cover of every trashy editorial. Crickets. I joined the FBI and he tried to take me out for dinner. Does he seem like the kind of man that tolerates that kind of insubordination?"
Aaron realizes that he should've thought about these questions. He should've thought to protect you from this back then. It was a miss. Especially after finding out what he had about Julian's death. And yet, there had never been anything in your father's interactions with you to suggest that he would do anything to truly harm you. Despite your fear of him.
"Do you remember what you wrote - in my recommendation letter to McKinney?" you murmured, your face right against his. If he moved a millimeter closer you'd be able to feel your nose against his.
Aaron watches you, his brow furrowing, wondering where exactly this was headed. He nods. He remembers. Your skin under his hands is starting to develop goosebumps. Without a word, he grabs you, shifting and maneuvering so that the two of you are laid together, heads at the headboard finally. He pulls at the blankets, draping them over you both and draws you back against him.
You place a quick kiss to his chest in thanks, fingers brushing over the scars that have persisted. Over time, he's become a lot more comfortable having his shirt off around you. It's still not something he will do in public, but around you, he feels comfortable enough. After all, you'd seen them back when they had been much worse.
He nods at you to continue. He has a need to know now. He has to know.
"The night that Matthew proposed to me, Julian and I got into a huge fight," you confess, legs tangling with his as your fingers trace the mapping of lines down his chest and stomach. "He revealed to me that my father - that the proposal was orchestrated. That it was part of some deal between our fathers. That - ." Your voice breaks and Aaron is quick to run his hands soothingly down your back, whispering soft encouragement in your ears, his lips following your hairline. You sniffle and continue on. "He told me that our father gave me away. Without asking. Without talking to me about it. He sold me."
It's Aaron who is lost for words this time. Out of all things, this - this he could not possibly have prepared for. All things considered, you're holding up remarkably, while his mind reels, putting everything he knows about Matthew into context with this new piece of information. He's struck by a tornado of anger towards your father. How dare that man - that awful, cruel man, treat you like property? To be traded and sold at his whims as if you weren't a fully fledged human being of your own.
You find yourself rubbing your hands up and down Aaron's arms, knowing that he must be processing everything all at once. You've had nearly a decade to deal with it and it still feels overwhelming at times.
"I didn't want to believe it, but it made sense."
Aaron opens his mouth to speak - to say something helpful but no words come. You shake your head, reassuring him that it was alright. He needn't say anything.
"So, I woke him up. We talked. I told him I wasn't about to waste my life - being the perfect daughter and the perfect wife. I couldn't."
He nods. He expected nothing less. You weren't some trophy wife.
"Matthew didn't want me to work after we got married. But I wanted something to work towards. Something that would be mine.  It wasn't fair that just because Dominic was the eldest son - that he would get it all. Everything. The entire empire. It was the one thing Matthew could never deny me. He wouldn't have dared."
Aaron's eyes widen as the realization begins to sink in. He takes in your gaze - blazing with renewed fire and fury at the situation you'd been in. The fervor within to escape, be your own person within the confines of the life you were in.
"My father - he fought me on it. Because the thing is, sons inherit the earth. Sons and not daughters." You take a deep breath, watching Aaron who appears to have followed along marvelously, because you can tell that he knows exactly what you're trying to say now.
"I showed him, however -- " You nod your head shakily "-- how I had built connections with all the right people. How I was smarter, would work harder, be better than anyone else he could possibly hope for to fill his shoes."
"You'd take over." His voice is low and the words feel reluctant on his tongue. Resigned despite the truth of them.
You nod. There it was - it was finally out there. Your worst secret that no one else had ever known. This secret had gone to the grave with your father. You hadn't even told John, knowing how disappointed he would've been in you - especially so soon after Julian's passing.
Aaron looks at you, taking in the guilt behind your eyes, the fear at revealing this to him. He knows too, that you're right. That if you had applied yourself to that, even half as well as you did to your job, you would've done it brutally well.
"That's why you think you aren't going to heaven," he concludes, his hands still rubbing up and down your back. He can feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest. It wasn't killing your father. It was this. "Sweetheart, you didn't do it, though. You didn't."
"I would've," you argue. "If Uncle Robert hadn't told me, even with Julian dead, I would've. I signed up for all of it Aaron. He trained me. He groomed me. Those things that you wrote in your letter to McKinney - all about how I'm adept at reading people. Because I can manipulate anyone into doing anything I want. He taught me how to do that. That I have an aptitude for navigating politically nuanced situations - because he showed me how to get close to the people that really matter. That I am exceptional at tactical planning - because from that day onwards, he planned out my entire life. And I let him. I helped him. Everything I did, anyone I spoke to, was all part of it. Part of his plans. So when I left, he wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to waste his investment in me." The words leave you like a storm - evidence in the case you'd been building against yourself, carved from marble and sitting heavy against your heart for the past decade. You hated how much of him you saw in yourself.
You're breathing really hard and there are tears clinging to your lashes as Aaron continues to hold you, pulling you in even closer, if that were possible. He couldn't even imagine how long you'd carried this with you. Nearly a decade of guilt and for what? For something you hadn't even carried through with.
"You didn't actually do it," he repeats himself, brushing his lips against your forehead, knowing that right then that's what you need. All the reassurance that he doesn't see you any differently. That he never could. Especially not for this.
"Aaron, I would've been someone the Bureau goes after. Someone you'd have gone after. But the difference is, I would've never been caught."
Again, he knows you're right. Aaron isn't even surprised really at your entire confession - it stood to reason that you'd want the keys to the kingdom. From what he knew of you and your siblings, you really would be the person who was most capable, despite the dubious nature of the job. He's not naïve enough to think you couldn't have done it if you wanted to. You would've been exceptional at it. But you didn't. Given the chance today, you wouldn't. For him, that's what mattered.
He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly, sweeping away all the wisps and baby hairs, holding your face in his hands. "You need to forgive yourself, Y/N. You need to realize that there is a difference between signing up for something and actually doing it. What you actually did, that's what matters. Regardless of the circumstances. That's what truly happened."
You're quiet, so he holds you. He can feel the tears trickling down your face, onto his chest as you bury your head into him once more.
It was an upheaval, telling him all of this. It's Aaron - and despite everything awful that you've revealed just then, he's being kind, compassionate, and understanding. You just told him that you'd essentially signed up to do every evil job known to mankind and he was comforting you. Making sure that you wouldn't beat yourself up. That you forgave yourself. He didn't even - it was as if it didn't even matter to him. How could it not, though? How could it not claw at him, being tangled up with someone he knows to be entrenched in evil?
"You are a good person, Y/N. A wonderful person. This - this one thing doesn't define you. Being good is a series of decisions and choices in that direction. One thing doesn't derail it entirely. That's what amends are for. What forgiveness is for. To show us that no matter what, we always have a chance." Aaron could only hope that you saw yourself the way he saw you. As someone who tried to be good. As someone who was good, through trying alone.
You want to believe him. You do. It sounds peaceful. But how do you know if you've made enough amends? How do you know if you've done enough?
He knows you're struggling to believe him. He wants to convince you, paint it into your skin, emblazon it onto your soul in a manner so unmistakable that you'd never question it again. You're a good person. He needs you to believe it. Desperately.
Aaron tilts your face up by your chin, his lips meeting yours intensely. "You are a wonderfully good person, Y/N" His whisper falls against your lips, forcing you to swallow in his words. Breathe them in. Taste them. Let them settle into your stomach.
He places another kiss to the turn of your neck, tongue peaking out to lick at mark he'd left earlier, soothing over it. "You're a hero. You save people." He will make you believe it.
You watch in awe as he shifts, placing another kiss to the swell of your breasts. "You take such good care of me and Jack." He will make you believe that you're the good he sees in life. Through all the horrors he sees day in and day out, he looks to you and he sees goodness and purity, laughter and joy.
You can feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, for an entirely different reason as you watch him. Watch this man, make his way down the length of your body, reminding you that you conquer monsters for a living. Remind you that you took down your father and in turn prevented him from doing more evil. Impress upon you the importance of everything you've accomplished since then - all the people you've saved, all the happiness you've brought, all the people you've loved.
You can't help but press yourself to him. Closer to him. Because his touch is the forgiveness you can never seem to give yourself. His touch is pure. His touch is good. It is divinity itself. Maybe if he touched you enough, it could make up for it all. Letting his essence cover up everything that came before.
Aaron draws up on his haunches, having just kissed your clit, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You taste like what he imagines sunshine might taste like. He moves you up with him, into his lap and waits until you've met his mouth of your own volition, before pulling you down onto his cock, seating you fully against him.
You can taste yourself on his lips. You can feel him inside you so entirely, consumingly, fully. He clutches onto you, the drag of him inside you so powerful and potent, the bubbling euphoria encasing you. Your arms curl around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, as his wrap around your hips, helping you ride his cock exquisitely. Vastly, painstakingly slow.
Aaron watches you in his lap, taking him in - his. Mine. Mine. Mine. A chant on repeat in his brain as your wet, velvety walls grip him like a vice. Your beautiful pink lips parted ever so slightly, eyes half lidded. In his lap, against his body, taking his cock. This - this was goodness. You were the source of all pleasure, delight, and happiness that he feels. If that is not goodness, then what is? If the God he calls God didn't recognize you as such, then what kind of God was he? Because he would gladly worship at your altar instead, if need be.
His hands grip you excruciatingly tight against him, unwilling to leave even the semblance of room between the two of you. It was as though he began where you ended and you ended where he began. "I don't care if you believe you're going to heaven or not," he declares, watching you take him. "I'm going to believe it enough for the both of us."
Before you can say anything in response, he draws your attention downwards, forcing you to watch. Watch as he exits you, wet and shiny, drenched in your arousal. Watch as he brings you back down, entering you immeasurably slowly and causing you to clench and flutter around him. His.
You look back up, meeting his warm brown eyes, shining with love and compassion and the utmost respect. Everything that made you fall in love with this man. You watch as he pushes into you, moves you just so - so as to perfectly hit that spot inside you. You tilt your head back on a moan, your body shuddering and your back arching once more, pushing you closer and closer against him. When you return to face him, he looks at you. His eyes fixed on you. That look on his face, was nothing short of reverent.  
You come achingly fast, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you shudder around him, taking in his release. He continues through it, pushing his cum back into you in the process, keeping it there, mingling with both of your earlier release.
You're entirely weak as you sit in the cradle of his arms, balancing on his thighs. Your mind is far away and present at once. Present only in him - his touch, his feel, his lips, his words - surrounding you thoroughly.
You are both unhurried in your movements as you clean up together, no need or desire to speak further, content in the silence of one another.
Aaron cleans up the bed, making sure there are fresh sheets, as he watches your tired body put on the small slip you'd left out earlier. Your hair was wet again and he grabs a fresh towel, drying it once more as you lean against him, unable to stand on your own for much longer, your body still sore. He can see the marks he'd left behind blooming and he takes extra care as he urges you towards the freshly made bed. You slip in to your side as he lifts the duvet, quickly climbing in beside you and tucking the two of you into the covers - swaddling your body against his own. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring his love against them, the echo of his words reverberating against them. You fall asleep first, entirely spent, physically and emotionally. With any luck you'll enter a deep, dreamless sleep. He can hear your steady and even breaths paralleled with the slow rise and fall of your chest, persuading him to join you in slumber.
Even if you didn't go to heaven - if for some God forsaken reason you were denied entrance - he'd willingly, gladly, go to hell with you.
With that final thought, he gives in to the call of your warmth and the sound of your breaths, allowing himself to be drawn into sleep beside you.
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saikagerights · 4 years ago
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Lay Me Down to Rest - Entry for Day of MirSan 2021
Hello there! And welcome to my first Inuyasha fanfiction, as apart of the @dayofmirsan event. 
I initially was planning to be an observer of the event, but sudden inspiration struck at 1am during my nightly routine of falling asleep to Inuyasha. Rewatching the Monkey Sprite episode is interesting for many reasons. For one, there was an unhealthy amount of filler added into the anime adaptation of this story-line, which gave hit-or-miss comedy. But the most important thing is that Miroku and Sango are mostly unaccounted for in this story-line, which gives shippers like me an opportunity to write some “off-screen development” for them. And though the anime does give us an idea, I’m afraid that Miroku’s indifference and frustrated edge in the scene feels a bit off, so I decided to add a bit of a bit of context. Consider this a bit of a fusion between the anime in manga, though the scene is based off of the anime. Also I was very liberal with my use of English/Japanese dub terminology. I watched the anime in English, but switched over to the manga to replace the Final Act, so it’s a bit inconsistent. 
I’ve been observing this fandom from afar ever since I started getting into Inuyasha back in December, and though I wanted to try and engage with it, it seemed very daunting given this fandom’s age and organization. But I’m very grateful that I was given the chance to participate in this event, and lucky that inspiration struck me at the right time. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing the works that come out of this event, and I hope you enjoy my contribution. 
And thanks for the mods for allowing me to share my work with you fellow fans
InuYasha and it’s properties are owned by creator Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise 
Read on AO3
Sango tailed the monk as he led their investigation. The villagers they had asked so far had no knowledge of the wicked demon, only of the pestering monkeys that were ravaging their fields. Her companion simply nodded, thanking them for their time and promising that the Inugami would save their village. They soon found themselves at the outskirts of the village on an empty patch of land outside the forest, save for one tall tree. Sango found his behavior during their search to be strange, especially as he now paused at the tree, leaving his Shakujo leaning against its trunk.
Was he just as stumped as she was? Would this reprieve be a chance for them to rethink their approach? 
“Why have we stopped here, Miroku?” She questioned. “Aren’t we supposed to search for Naraku’s whereabouts?”
Her befuddlement heightened as he laid his body to rest in the grass underneath the shade of the tree with a sigh, both hands pillowing his head. His intentions then became clear at the sight of his eyelids slipping shut.
“How might we do that when we have neither Inuyasha’s nose or Kagome’s detection?” His tone reflected his relaxed poise. “I merely said that so that Inuyasha would be more inclined to help those villagers.”
Her head tilted downward towards the monk’s resting face. “I understand wanting to help, but do you honestly think that Inuyasha dealing with those monkeys will get us any closer to finding him?
“Not particularly.” He punctuated the off-handed remark with a yawn, overstating his disinterest. “But enough of that... Why don’t you join me here?”
She stood awestruck at his bold request. He lays there while their friends were helping this poor village and now he asks her to do the same? If Inuyahsa were to find out, he’d surely have more pressing things to worry about than the food security of the village. 
“I don’t think it would be wise, considering your flippant lies.”
The man remained still, no sign of concern disrupting his posture. 
“If you changed back into your battle attire before our return, they’d never suspect a thing.” He ignored her statement, a peaceful smile casually appearing on his face. She instantly recognized this move. He was fully convinced he would get his way, the sleazy crook. “Besides, I’m sure sleep has been as kind to you as it has been to me as of late.”
Although it was usually hard to detect amongst his manner of speaking, the monk’s sarcasm was not missed by the slayer. She knew very well that Naraku’s sudden disappearance had their whole group on edge, including herself. And while sleep had become its own battle, the desperate investigations of their enemy have left her distracted from everything else. Sleep meant the rest needed to fight again, but it also meant time alone with one’s most intimate thoughts. What always plagued her mind nowadays were things she’d rather not willingly engage. Finding Naraku should be her biggest concern now, but she indulged her companion despite what she would consider was her better judgement.
The monk had a particular talent for steering her away from rationality.
“Knowing your pervy ways, I’m sure you’d try and sneak a peek at me”
The monk could’ve never noticed the sneer on her face behind his still-closed eyes. The same smile was plastered on his face as well, despite her accusation. He really did enjoy giving her grief, didn’t he...
“Trust me, my dear. I have no intention of moving from this spot for a while. Or at least until Inuyasha comes for my head.”
 “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I left Kilala here to guard this spot until I returned.”
He chuckled at that. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure she’d love to watch me lie here, right Kilala?”  
Sango looked to the nekomata, who merely chuffed in response. She was wary of Kilala’s strange trust in the monk at times, but she was sure that the demon would keep an eye on him in case he tried something funny. 
Miroku took this as the perfect time to reveal his indigo eyes to her. 
 “Please, my intentions are more honorable than what they seem, believe me.”
There it was, that gentle voice of his used to convince her of his authenticity. The same breathy tones that sent her heart racing and her stomach in somersaults. She knew Miroku was confident in his charms, but she also liked to think that he was fully aware of this game they played. She only came to grips with it recently, but there was something going on. 
They’d fight, they’d talk it through, and just when she thought he would try to make a move, that damn hand of his would find the wrong place to caress. Or it would be when she found herself grieving once more, and he could comfort her with his words alone. How did he always know what to say that made everything clear and could heal every fiber of her being, but also had a hand that never failed to do the exact opposite? He was a truly frustrating man, but he was the only one she ever considered more than just that. 
But did he really know? That was a puzzle Sango couldn’t solve. It wasn’t as if anything meaningful resulted from these escapades. Afterwards, they would act as if nothing happened, and he would return to his typical flirtatious ways with any woman that entered his line of sight. So Sango liked to think that Miroku fully knew that he was toying with her feelings. That way it made it easier to lower her expectations and resent them despite Kagome’s not-so-subtle prodding. 
When she became abruptly aware that her eyes had been locked on him for too long, she made her hasty retreat, hoping he didn’t catch her bright red flush in the shade of the tree. 
“This man will be the death of me,” she softly cursed herself as soon as she knew she left his earshot. 
_______________________________________________________________
Upon her return to their little “spot,” she was greeted by an alert Miroku. His body was now fully upright and turned towards her approaching form. 
“You’ve accepted my invitation, I see”
“I thought you were trying to sleep”
“I still am, but I’d figured it would help if I got a quick glimpse of your beauty before-hand.”
She rolled her eyes at his shameless attempt. “You really are troublesome, you know that?”
“You wound me, dear Sango!” He unceremoniously flopped back into his previous position, his left hand patting the spot next to him. “You are free to lie beside me if you wish.” 
Without the need for consideration, she silently opted to sit against Kilala’s curled form, stretching her legs in front of her. He managed to convince her to relax alongside him, but she had no intention of allowing herself to get too comfortable around him in the likely case the monk’s wandering hands wandered once more. He sighed audibly at her decision, but allowed his eyes to close again without any further word. He could act like a child all he wanted, but she would not budge. 
She watched the man for a while, observing his state of rest. She could tell as much that he hadn’t fallen asleep just yet by all of his idle noises and the way he kept trying to steal a glance in her direction. 
“Can’t sleep?”
She hadn’t even tried to close her eyes just yet, as she was still trying to grasp their current situation. Why was he so insistent on sleeping if he was just going to try and stare at her the entire afternoon? Why did he lie to Inuyasha in the first place if this was how they would spend their time? With all these questions moving around in her head, she might as well ask for the most basic of them.
“Miroku? Why do you lie and steal as casually as you do? I always thought that monks were pure-hearted.”
“What a wonderful question!” He exclaimed. With such enthusiasm, she was almost afraid of the answer she would soon receive from him. “I’ve been traveling on my own for so long, and it’s quite difficult to acquire wealth in such unfortunate times. I wish to give aid to those in need, but I also believe that it never hurts to help yourself as well.” He settled for an even tone and let his eyes slip open once more. 
 “And you are right, It is true that holy-people such as myself are meant to be free of sin. But,  I was born tainted by the hole that resides in my hand.” His voice tapered off at his pause, the newfound silence growing thick with each passing moment. His sound returned to him, soft and low, as if it were only meant for his ears alone. 
“It doesn’t matter how much I devote myself to my faith to any idol or deity. My curse is hell-bent on deciding my fate....”
But we are trying to stop Naraku! To free you from the Kazaana. You can always change your path after that! She immediately contested, perhaps a little too loudly, but she didn’t care. How dare he speak so little of himself and avoid her gaze as he did it?! She refused to accept his belittling statements. 
“It is very hard for me to see a future for myself at this time, I’m afraid…” He brought his head up to look at her. A flash of fear ran through his eyes before he looked down once more. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t speak like that.”
He’s afraid…
And he had every right to be. 
“Please don’t apologize.”
He never showed it in front of their group, but behind that calm and smooth exterior remained a man trembling under the weight of his own mortality. He was a man after all, and men were never to show what made them most vulnerable. But with how much he gives to help others, it feels unfair for him to just allow himself to suffer inside as he did.
 If they understood each other as well as he liked to claim, then she knew he hated the restless feeling they had knowing nothing of where their wicked nemesis resided, surely plotting something to exploit the fears he caused within their hearts. Knowing that her poor brother remained in that demon’s grasp sickened her to her core, and sitting around with no leads made it hard to lay dormant as they did now. 
“I get it. I am just as frustrated as you… About Kohaku-”
“-You don’t need to go any further” He  interrupted her thoughts, I didn’t mean to remind you of your pain like that.”
 “Miroku-” 
 “-Please,” he sharply cut in once more, hoarseness settling into his throat. He must’ve noticed it as well, as he cleared his throat soon after. “let’s just try to find rest while we still can.” 
He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to force unconsciousness upon himself. Sango relented, trying to relax her body, idly stroking Kilala as she watched the man slowly succumb to rest. It was surreal to see him struggle like this when it seemed like meditation was second nature to him. She decided on trying for sleep once his breathing evened out and all the remaining tension left his face. 
________________________________________________________________
Miroku wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he could tell from the shadows before him had grown considerably when his eyes peered open. He turned his head to see Sango now curled up against Kilala, her face all but buried in her demon companion’s fur. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly stretching as he made an intake of his surroundings. It looked as if the sun would soon begin it’s retreat from the sky. The monk knew the rest was necessary, but he definitely didn’t look forward to another predictively sleepless night. 
One more glance at Sango’s sleeping form was enough to convince him to approach her, neglecting his Shakujo to silence his movements. He knew, probably better than anybody, of the threat imposed by the slayer’s attuned senses. He also knew the danger of being caught if she awoke to his gawking. Unfortunately it was a risk he was willing for one small fleeting moment to stare at her.
What an idiot he had been for making her sympathize with his life. Even worse that it reminded her of her own grief. He was happy to indulge her curiosity, but when he looked up at her, he turned cowardly at what he saw. It wasn’t fear, or sadness over his grim fate. It was the very same fire that lit behind her eyes in battle. 
She was prepared to fight for him, it seemed…
He dare not think that she would go any farther for that. He was not worth her death. In fact, nothing was worth her death. The honor of her clan was at stake, and her life was essential in carrying on their legacy. One measly itinerant monk with a fated death should be worthless in her eyes, even if he wanted nothing more than to keep her alive.
Even if he wanted more than anything to see a future with her.
He turned away from her, returning to his spot in a now seated position. The monk had half a mind to wake the woman, but decided against it. Every waking moment for her was its own battle, after all. She needed all the rest she could get. And he’d gladly wait for her until that battle resumed, and fight with her at every step.
And if dying for her now meant he could spend the next life by her side, then he would welcome death with open arms. 
“I hope this woman is the death of me,” he softly wished before all else melted away to his own meditation.
______________________________________________________________
Yeah I realized I took some liberties here with how Miroku and Sango’s relationship was at this point. This episode takes place after the Temptress of the Mist and Demon-Head castle, but far behind Mt. Hakurei, so what was going on with them hadn’t really become a “pattern” just yet. And Miroku had just comforted her in her grieving state for the first time right before that. Sango wasn’t deep enough to say he was her reason for living, so that’s why I kept her on the fence and didn’t have her feel too disappointed, because that’s what came after Mt Hakurei. 
I’m a sucker for long winded perspective changes, especially here with all the parallels I draw between them. Some of my best lines were written here, especially the ending line. My GOD. I swear, I wrote that and everything made sense. I said “yes” over and over again, it was so good.
Also can you tell whose voice I’m talking about when describing Miroku’s? The answer is Koji Tsujitani. I always knew about Tsujitani’s delivery that makes Miroku sound truly “fake” but I noticed rather recently how he would add so much breath, especially in serious scenes. On the other hand, Kirby Morrow played the character down and deep in his throat, which isn’t bad when talking about his overall performance, but I decided to favor Tsujitani’s performance in this instance. 
(I’m a classically trained singer and a music education major, so I’m a nut for analyzing voice acting. I have respect for both of these men may they rest in peace.)
Thanks again for the opportunity, and I hope to write more for this series. 
-Saikage
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Habanero
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You're a good girl, well behaved.
Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.
Until you are.
Fandom: BNHA
Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader
Rating: Mostly gen, this chapter is pretty tame. Reader gets pretty horny towards the end but nothing below the belt actually occurs
Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.
AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi
Chapter: 5/16 (all chapters)
You didn’t get any sleep that night.
As a result of your visits to the police station, hospital and briefing at UA, you didn’t get around to checking your phone until 8PM, only to find it had exploded with missed calls, text messages and voicemails. You had missed well over 200 messages in the group chat you shared with your friends and 32 çalls from your mother.
They all knew you worked at UA and by now the attack was all over the news.
You gave up on catching up on everything you had missed after the first five minutes, choosing instead to send a copy pasted message to everyone in your notifications.
Hello, there was an incident at UA today. I’m fine. We’re all fine. Thank you for your concern.
Responding was a mistake, for even more messages flooded through the moment you hit send.
Everyone wanted to know the gory details. Cousins you hadn’t talked to in years suddenly had more than a passing interest in your affairs.
And then there was the message that made you drop your phone; a single sentence buried between notifications.
It was from your ex.
You had parted on relatively good terms, considering, though hadn’t talked since he picked up his things from your house. You had told yourself it was for the best, even if it shattered your heart to pieces.
It was strange to hear from him now and he seemed to know it, for his words were no more intimate or friendly than those of your distant cousins. It was as if you’d never been lovers, yet memories flooded back.
You remembered eating lunch together at your kitchen table; remembered wearing his sweater on nights he wasn’t home and burying your nose in the collar. You remembered picking out dresses for date nights and taking his hand on the train ride home.
It had been a long, emotional day and you didn’t trust yourself to reply. Instead you got up to make a late dinner, stealing glances at your phone out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t help but wonder how today might have gone if you were still together. Would he have picked you up from the police station? Maybe he would have taken you for gelato.
You picked up your phone as you waited for your food to cook, opening and closing his message. You gave up in the end, copy and pasting the same response you had given everyone else, but with one minor change.
Hello, there was an incident at UA today. I’m fine. We’re all fine. Thank you for your concern.
How are you?
He replied within the next five minutes, detailing the brand new business partnership he had achieved with one of the major hero agencies in Roppongi. He’d been chasing such a partnership for many of the years you had known him and it was difficult to stop yourself swelling with pride. He wasn’t your boyfriend now, after all.
He was just as curious about your new job at UA, though mostly seemed confused. You had been in your previous job for years with no desire to move, after all. You kept quiet about the fact that if he hadn’t broken your heart you would probably still be there.
After an hour or so of back and forth, he finally sent the message you had been dreading.
We should go for dinner some time.
You cast aside your phone and poured yourself a much needed glass of wine. You didn’t trust yourself to see him in person. It took everything you had not to call him there and then so you could hear his voice.
Your reply was as polite as it was cagey, apologising for your busy schedule under the current circumstances. It was at least partly true, and he seemed understanding enough. Everyone in the country knew about UA’s upcoming sports festival, after all.
Little did you know you’d be seeing him far sooner than expected.
UA was closed the next day for repairs and staff meetings. All UA staff were present, with one notable exception. Shouta was still in the hospital and expected to rest up for the rest of the week.
The attack on the USJ might have been foiled, but the implications of it were massive, especially with the sports festival on the horizon. You expected the games to be postponed for the immediate future, but you couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, the attack made Nezu even more determined to make this year’s games the biggest yet.
You understood his decision, even if you didn’t completely agree with it. The sports festival was critical to the future prospects of all UA students, many of whom (such as the third year pupils) would not get another opportunity to show off their skills in such a public manner. You only hoped that it wasn’t a mistake.
Your own contributions to the meetings were small in the grand scheme of things and you were finished up for the day by 1:30 in the afternoon. You considered picking up groceries on the way home, only to get off the train at the nearest platform to the hospital.
By now Shouta must have come around from his anaesthesia and you decided to call in and visit to find out if he needed anything, like spare clothes or someone to help out with his household chores during his recovery. You had heard Hizashi and Nemuri make comments about his love for cats and seen cat hair on his clothes on certain occasions. If he had pets, you were only too happy to babysit them while he was away.
Unfortunately, your plans were quashed almost immediately.
“What do you mean he discharged himself?”
You thought about Shouta as you took the train, as you packed up your groceries and slipped through your front door. He had been terribly beaten up the last time you’d seen him, so much so that even his doctors had recommended he rest for the week. Why would he leave after less than 24 hours? Why would he overstrain himself in such a way?
You thought about him as you made lunch and the final adjustments to your schedule. He was a grown man, you told yourself. He was perfectly capable of making his own choices and taking care of himself.
Even so, you couldn’t stop thinking about his two injured arms. How was he going to cook? How was he going to clean? Surely he didn’t mean to continue underground work with damage to his skull?
You lasted until 5PM before giving up and texting Hizashi.
Can you call me when you’re free?
He called you only seconds later.
“How can I help you, sweet listener?”
“It’s Shouta,” you said. “I called by at the hospital and...well...he’s discharged himself.”
“He what ?!”
“I know,” you said. “I’m really worried.”
“That’s so typical of him,” Hizashi sighed, “what is he thinking?”
“I was thinking I might stop by his place to check on him,” you said. “Do you know where he lives?”
He went quiet for a couple of seconds, clearly thinking about it.
“You know, (Name), it’s not the kind of neighbourhood for a lady…”
“I’ll text you when I get there?”
“Hmmm…”
You could practically see him leaning back in his chair and scratching his chin.
“Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll text you the details.”
“Thank you!”
“You’ve gotta text me though.”
“I will!”
“And, by the way…”
“Mhmmm?”
“How long have you been calling him Shouta?”
You flushed a bright red, feeling as if you’d been caught with your pants down.
Of all of the teachers, Shouta was the only one who hadn’t openly given you permission to call him by his first name in informal situations. You referred to him as Aizawa while around other people and even on the rare occasions you were alone. You had reset, even if he would always be Shouta in your mind.
“I…I...I’ll speak to you later, haha, bye!”
You couldn’t hang up fast enough. You were convinced the intonation of your voice would betray the truth.
You buried your head in your hands, as if to hide your face from your phone.
Well, shit.
Hizashi hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Shouta lived in a shady area. Many of the buildings had boarded over their windows and just about every exposed area of brick had several layers of graffiti, most of which were obscene.
You felt eyes on the back of your neck as you pressed the buzzer for Shouta’s apartment, though soon identified the source as a grey cat sprawled across the wall, watching you with steady amber eyes.
“Hello,” you said, leaning over, “are you the gatekeeper?”
The cat yawned and stretched out a paw.
“Oh, I see, I see,” you said, tapping a fingertip against its paw by way of a handshake. “Well you’re doing a very good job.”
“What are you doing here?”
That voice sounded incredibly familiar and you glanced up towards the balcony above you. Shouta was peering over it, still bandaged up and both of his arms in casts. You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was scowling.
“I came to check in on you,” you called up. “The hospital said you’d discharged yourself, and-“
He turned on the spot.
“As you can see, I’m okay. You can go home now.”
“But…”
You had packed an insulated bag full of food before leaving home and glanced from that to the gate. Were you going to have to carry it back on the train? You’d already packed a big lunch for the next day, ahead of seeing 1-A through counselling. Just what were you going to do with all of this extra food?
Shouta peered back over the balcony and sighed.
“Fine,” he said. “But make sure you hold the door open for Sushi.”
“Sushi?” you wondered aloud as the buzzer sounded and you let yourself through the gate. “Who’s Sushi?”
As if in response, the cat hopped down from its position on the wall and wandered up the path as if it had done so a thousand times. It stopped at the front door to the building and turned back to you expectantly, waiting for you to open the door.
You followed the cat into the building and up the stairs. The cat, Sushi you supposed, would rush off ahead of you and then wait for you to catch up. It barreled up the stairwell and then sat at the top before climbing the next. You knew which apartment belonged to Shouta even without checking over Mic’s message, for the cat sat down outside of it and looked back at you.
“Thank you, gatekeeper,” you said, tapping at the door.
“It’s open,” Shouta called out from within and you reached for the handle, Sushi the cat squeezing through the gap the moment you opened it even slightly.
You didn’t know what you expected from Shouta’s home. You knew he spent very little time there and that much was clear the moment you got inside. He had minimal furniture: a couch in one corner, along with a small table and even smaller television. There were no photographs on the walls; no blankets or decorations. Everything in his home had a clear function, as if designed to be left in a hurry. It was the opposite of your home in every possible sense.
“Make yourself comfy, I guess,” he said.
“I don’t know when exactly you checked out of the hospital,” you said, “but I thought you might be hungry. I made a few things…”
You walked over to the table and unzipped your bag.
“I wasn’t sure what kinds of food you liked, so I brought a bit of everything,” you said, pulling out each container. “There’s some soup, some rice, meatballs, an omelette…”
Retrospectively, you had rather overdone it.
“Some of these can be frozen or reheated,” you said. “You don’t have to eat all of them at once.”
He glanced from you to your food containers, which by then had taken up almost all of his table.
“You didn’t have to do all of this.”
“Oh, it’s no bother. We’re colleagues, remember!”
“Yeah,” he said. “I-”
He didn’t get to say anymore, though, for his stomach rumbled noisily.
“Shouta,” you said. “When did you last eat?”
“I...hmm...I had a small meal at the hospital before I-”
“You... wh-?! That was hours ago! You need proteins and vitamins to heal.”
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
It wasn’t fine. Not by any means.
You simmered as you plated up a few of the containers and refrigerated the rest. You couldn’t believe how little one person could care for their own body and pretended you didn’t see the bottles of antiseptic, antibiotics and bandages on his shelf. How many wounds had he gotten without seeing a doctor? How many of his scars came from cuts he had tended himself?
“I don’t want to hear you complain about Midoriya breaking his bones ever again,” you muttered as Sushi rubbed against your legs, seeming not to notice the bowl of cat food only a short distance away.
Of course he’d remembered to feed the cat.
Of course.
“Yes, yes,” said Shouta, leaning back on the couch and pulling down some of his bandages to expose his mouth and chin.
You brought the food over to his table and proceeded to pack away your empty food containers, watching out of the corner of your eye as he leaned over to pick up the cutlery, only to flinch and drop it.
“Do you need some help?”
“Nope, I got it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ye-fuck.”
The cutlery clattered to the table with a dull thud and you took a seat next to him, reaching for the cutlery and holding it out to him.
“Thank you,” he said, albeit reluctantly, balancing it in his fingers before dropping it again.
“Let me help you,” you said, grabbing the fork and scooping up some of the omelette. “Open wide.”
“Wh-no way,” he said, eyes darting from you to the fork. “I ain’t a toddler.”
“It’s not like I’m going to make aeroplane sounds. Let me help you.”
Shouta grumbled under his breath, but ate from the fork you raised to his lips.
“..cious,” he murmured as you gathered a second forkful.
“Hmm?”
“I said...if you tell anyone about this I’ll shave off your eyebrows.”
“Neglect yourself this much again and I’ll shave your entire head.”
A smile crept across your face; you couldn’t help it. This whole situation was more than a little absurd. Here was the underground hero, Eraserhead, known for his smooth takedowns of villains in Musutafu’s underbelly, struggling to hold onto a fork. You were little more than a girl he’d hooked up, yet there you were, nagging him as if you were married.
Shouta fell into contemplative silence as well.
���At the attack,” he said at last. “Did they hurt you?”
“What do you mean?”
You hadn’t been involved in the fighting, but perhaps he didn’t know that?
“At the hospital,” he said, “you had blood on your shirt.”
Your heart skipped a beat, remembering how you had kissed his forehead before you could stop yourself. You’d thought he was asleep. Had he been awake the whole time?
“No,” you said. “Nezu had me go to the police station. I used my quirk too much on the suspects too much, that’s all.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Were you… worried about me?”
“Of course not! It’s just that you’re useless in battle.”
“Oh my god, you were worried about me.”
“No I wasn’t,” he said, stubbornly. “Now give me some of the chicken.”
You scooped up some of it and lifted it to his lips but he didn’t move, even though he’d asked for it.
“Shou…” you began, only to fall silent as he leaned in.
You told yourself you should pull away, even as you met him in the middle and ran your tongue over his bottom lip. He leaned over towards you and crushed his lips against yours, kissing you so deeply that it sent a shiver through your core. You wanted his hands on you; wanted to ride him until both your throat and cunt were raw.
Oh no...
Before this, you had never known that kisses could feel like stormy seas. For the first time in your life, you wanted to drown.
You reached to cup the uninjured side of his face.
Two seconds more and you would break the reset. Three and you wouldn’t even regret it.
Sushi took the initiative, though, making use of the distraction to hop onto your lap and steal the chicken from your fork. You broke the kiss, both pulling away as if burned.
“I…” you said, “I’m sorry.”
What were you thinking? Shouta was injured and likely still had remnants of anesthesia in his body. Even if he didn’t, the attack on USJ would leave anyone shaken. You had gone there to help him out with chores, not take advantage of him while he was in a potentially vulnerable state.
“I should go,” you said, clearing your throat and rushing away to zip up your insulated bag.
“(Name),” he said. “I-”
“It’s okay,” you said. “It was my fault. I…”
You gave him the biggest, most artificial smile in your arsenal; the one you used at job interviews and dinner with your parents.
“I’ll see you at work!”
You thought about the kiss on the train ride home, as you washed your dirty food containers and took a bath. You sank down into the water, wishing you could wash away the fluttering in your core.
It was just arousal, you told yourself. Sex released chemicals, namely oxytocin, and it was natural for you to feel attached to him. Hell, you’d seen each other completely naked, which in itself was something profoundly intimate.
It would fade in time, as all things did.
You repeated it over and over as you dried yourself off and got into bed. Soon, very soon, you would forget how it felt when he’d touched you. Bodies replaced their cells every decade or so; one day your bodies would have never touched at all.
The exhaustion from the past few days caught up with you the moment your head touched the pillow and before long you were dreaming.
You dreamed of waking in the arms of your lover, who ran his fingers through your hair and kissed you on the forehead. The bed was comfortably warm and bathed in soft morning light; your lover’s arm heavy across your waist.
“(Name),” he whispered in your ear and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.
“(Name),” he whispered again and you looked up into his face, taking in his black hair and dark eyes. “Why are you crying?”
Your eyes snapped open then, dragging you back to your empty room.
There was no one else in your bed, you realised. It was the middle of the night, with no trace of the early morning glow you had so happily basked in.
The tears, though, they were real.
A/N
yes, it's that Sushi
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littlesailorinthesun · 5 years ago
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is love nikki osha compliant?
Inspired by Brian David Gilbert's legendary Unraveled video "Smash Bros. owes millions of dollars in OSHA violations", I became curious how this would apply to Love Nikki suits. I looked through a few suits of choice to determine how OSHA-compliant they are.
First of all, I would like to say that while I have previously worked in a Health and Safety department, I apologize for any mistakes I make. This is not work (even if real Nikkis' lives are at stake here!)
For the Smash Bros. video, BDG looked primarily at the safety of various fighting arenas. Given that Love Nikki is a dress up game, I will of course be primarily looking at PPE (personal protective equipment) which falls under 1910 Subpart I; however, there are some instances where it is clear the environment is also unsafe.
The issue with determining what is proper PPE is mostly that it varies depends based on the environment you find yourself in. Given that *most* suits don't come with huge background props or backgrounds, I will just be extrapolating based on the item descriptions and the little context we have.
Heavy Machinery
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One of my favorite suits, yet one of the worst offenders, Heavy Machinery actually calls out its own violation in the suit itself. If Miraland had OSHA, Heavy Machinery would unfortunately be breaking the rules.
According to OSHA's Nail Gun Safety Guide, people using nail guns should have the following PPE (in addition to the safety goggles): safety shoes (steel toed boots), hard hats, and hearing protection. Unfortunately, while maybe the shoes might have steel toes (though they don't look like they do), Heavy Machinery does not have a hard hat nor any hearing protection that I can see. This puts her in general violation of 1910.132(a).
One of the more frustrating parts is that she has eye protection, but she isn't actually using it! The item description for the goggles even says, "A mechanic can easily hurt his eyes, so it's good to wear goggles. Don't act cool and put them on your head!" Yet, she is doing just that, which causes her to violate 1910.133(a)(1). Please, don't follow her example and make sure to wear your goggles.
I will give her kudos for having the knee pad(?) but the rest of her clothing could probably do a better job. Unfortunately, Heavy Machinery is not OSHA-compliant.
The final comment I'd like to make on her is that if she is really wearing a battery on her back, I will have to give her kudos because those motherfuckers are heavy.
Adventurous Journey
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A new environment! Actually, Adventurous Journey is adventuring throughout all of Miraland, and her item descriptions make mention of her visiting many several different places: an abandoned base, an old ruin, even a cave? 
Adventurous Journey is wearing some pretty practical clothing, and her hand and foot protection look more than adequate. Her hammer looks like it's in great shape and, like Heavy Machinery, she even has her hair tied back. Her headlight is also a great choice.
While entering unknown spaces like caves can be dangerous, they typically aren't considered confined spaces. Besides that, it sounds like Adventurous Journey only went inside the cave to take shelter from the sandstorm instead of to explore.
Overall, I believe Adventurous Journey is OSHA-compliant. Have fun on your adventures!
Glacier Treader
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Ada just wanted to learn something about penguins, but unfortunately she may end up learning something about ice water if she keeps up these unsafe practices.
According to 1910.28(b)(3)(i), employees should be protected from falling in holes by guardrails, covers, or something similar. Unfortunately, there is a giant hole in front of Ada and she has nothing keeping her from falling inside. The straps on her coat aren't attached to anything and that thing looks like it's about to fly off anyways. There may be a penguin in the hole, but such matters do not excuse Ada's research group's lack of fall protection. 
On the bright side, the band-aids on Ada's face means that she has access to first aid and medical care!
Horn of Surprise
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As fun as it would be to ride a giant candy train, it is unfortunately not OSHA-compliant.
As per 1910.21(b), a walking-working surface is any surface where an employee walks, works, or gains access to another work area. As the train conductor, Shebel is working on the top of the train, and thus it is subject to OSHA guidelines.
Unfortunately, the train is quite high off the ground - definitely more than 4 feet. Because of this, under 1910.28(b)(15), Shebel should have some sort of protection from falling to the ground below her, whether it be a guardrail, safety net, or another personal fall protection system.
She should probably also be wearing better PPE, too.
Ocean Lullaby
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According to this suit's lore, Relly swims all the way to the deepest part of the ocean with only a narwhal. From the depiction of her and the fact that she apparently lost consciousness while at the bottom of the ocean, it seems pretty clear that Relly wasn't using proper PPE while swimming.
The most frustrating part about this suit is probably the fact that even the fish have PPE while Relly has nothing (though the efficacy of the snorkels is questionable). She should definitely have some air, and following the proper SCUBA diving procedures (1910.424) would be a great start.
Toy Carnival
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What looks like an innocent, fun carnival game is actually an example of a potentially dangerous situation which requires a lot of work and planning. The crane machine is an example of a confined space, which is defined as a space that is large enough to do work, but has limited means for entry and exit, and isn't designed for continuous occupancy. Toy Carnival's crane machine appears to be a small space which doesn't have any immediately apparent way to get out.
There are no hazardous chemicals which would be present inside a claw machine. However, there is a physical hazard, which is the claw crane. Because of this, it is a permit-required confined space.
Toy Carnival is doing a lot of things right. She has an attendant outside (Momo), meaning she is compliant with 1910.146(d)(6). As long as Toy Carnival has a permit and followed all of the necessary procedures, she would be OSHA compliant if not for one thing: There is no visible sign designating the claw machine as a confined space. (1910.146(c)(2))
I will hold out hope that there is a sign on the back, because she was so close.
Explosion
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We're going to ignore for the time being that Explosion takes place entirely inside a video game because well, it's all inside a video game one way or another, right? Anyways, you can tell a lot about Explosion just from the name.
Patrice is evidently in some kind of war-like environment. Not only are there guns and cannons going off everywhere, the "explosion" her suit is named for is the explosions of smoke grenades. She uses these to take cover and disguise herself.
While the gas mask is an excellent choice, unfortunately it's not enough. Due to the flying hazards (and probably the smoke too), Patrice needs to be wearing eye protection in order to be in compliance with 1910.133(a)(1), and head protection in order to be in compliance with 1910.135(a)(1).
Now onto another concern, no less pressing than the last: She's also apparently killing people. 1926.900 deals with explosives, and many of the standards mention avoiding the harm of other employees, which gives the impression that it generally isn't allowed. Not warning the others using warning signs, flags, or barricades before killing them with explosives is in direct violation of 1926.900(i).
I will commend Patrice on one thing, which is proper use of the buddy system as defined in 1910.120(a)(3) in the presence of unknown hazards. It sounds like she and Kuma work well together.
Honorable Mentions
Apocalyptic Angel, for her clothes and hair literally being on fire. I don’t know which OSHA violation that is, but it’s definitely something.
Crime Buster, for firing guns any which way without even looking. I don’t even want to touch that can of worms.
Space Fantasy, for not wearing gloves. In outer space.
Ingenious Trend, for allowing bats to carry needles. Again, not sure how that’s illegal, but it must be one way or another.
Appendix
1910.28(b)(3)(i) Each employee is protected from falling through any hole (including skylights) that is 4 feet (1.2 m) or more above a lower level by one or more of the following: 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(A) Covers; 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(B) Guardrail systems; 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(C) Travel restraint systems; or 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(D) Personal fall arrest systems.
(Glacier Treader)
1910.28(b)(15) Walking-working surfaces not otherwise addressed. Except as provided elsewhere in this section or by other subparts of this part, the employer must ensure each employee on a walkingworking surface 4 feet (1.2 m) or more above a lower level is protected from falling by: 1910.28(b)(15)(i) Guardrail systems; 1910.28(b)(15)(ii) Safety net systems; or 1910.28(b)(15)(iii) Personal fall protection systems, such as personal fall arrest, travel restraint, or positioning systems.
(Horn of Surprise)
1910.132(a) Protective equipment, including personal protective equipment for eyes, face, head, and extremities, protective clothing, respiratory devices, and protective shields and barriers, shall be provided, used, and maintained in a sanitary and reliable condition wherever it is necessary by reason of hazards of processes or environment, chemical hazards, radiological hazards, or mechanical irritants encountered in a manner capable of causing injury or impairment in the function of any part of the body through absorption, inhalation or physical contact.
(Heavy Machinery)
1910.133(a)(1) The employer shall ensure that each affected employee uses appropriate eye or face protection when exposed to eye or face hazards from flying particles, molten metal, liquid chemicals, acids or caustic liquids, chemical gases or vapors, or potentially injurious light radiation.
(Heavy Machinery, Explosion)
1910.135(a)(1) The employer shall ensure that each affected employee wears a protective helmet when working in areas where there is a potential for injury to the head from falling objects.
(Explosion)
1910.146(c)(2) If the workplace contains permit spaces, the employer shall inform exposed employees, by posting danger signs or by any other equally effective means, of the existence and location of and the danger posed by the permit spaces. NOTE: A sign reading DANGER -- PERMIT-REQUIRED CONFINED SPACE, DO NOT ENTER or using other similar language would satisfy the requirement for a sign.
(Toy Carnival)
1910.146(d)(6) Provide at least one attendant outside the permit space into which entry is authorized for the duration of entry operations;
(Toy Carnival - compliant)
1926.900(i) Employees authorized to prepare explosive charges or conduct blasting operations shall use every reasonable precaution including, but not limited to, visual and audible warning signals, flags, or barricades, to ensure employee safety.
(Explosion)
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babycracker · 4 years ago
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Fire Meet Gasoline: Chapter 6
chapter rating: teen & up story rating: explicit pairing: morgan/m!oc (tanner drake) & farah/f!oc (sadie kennedy) word count: ~2.7k chapter warnings: none story warnings: eventual smut, canon-typical violence, au - canon divergent a/n: as you can see, pairings have changed and i've added some warnings for the future bc this entire story has taken an unexpected turn and it's going to be much bigger than manner now. please don't hesitate to let me know if you wanna be taken off of the tags!
read it on ao3 here
--
Sadie was sure that she'd have more time than this. Six months isn't long, after all. Well, technically four months. She's been basically on the run for the last two.
She'd had four months to enjoy being twenty-one before the Agency had contacted her about signing the treaty, and for the two months since not so politely telling them to shove it she'd been dodging the bounty hunter that she'd evidently been assigned to.
He was an idiot. A troll, she was sure of it. Big and imposing and clumsy and menacing… but stupid. She hasn't seen him in a few weeks though, and she's starting to relax, fairly sure that she's lost him.
So, for the first time in the week and a half that she's been in this city she's daring to leave her room at the hostel and check out some of what could well be her new home. She pulls her hoodie on, reluctantly pulling the hood over her head and eyeing the bland grey of the fabric with disdain for a moment. Dreadfully boring, and dreadfully cliché - a banshee roaming around donning a grey hood - but she still needs to keep a low profile. Just for a little bit longer.
Everyone's heard about the supernatural bar in the city, such things are not exactly common, though no one seems to know where it is. It would seem the only way to find out is by word of mouth, and unfortunately she doesn't know anyone here, and she can't exactly go up to random people and ask them where the local supernaturals hang.
It would really be preferable; at just over 4'3 she doesn't exactly fit in with humans, but she supposes she'll just have to make do as she heads down the street. She sticks cautiously close to the buildings, avoiding the laughing groups of people and curiously looking around at the bright and colourful nightlife.
She could get used to this.
But for now, she resigns herself to something less flashy, a not quite as cheerful and slightly shabby bar with a bright green neon sign shining from its façade reading Shakers.
Looks good enough for now, so she steps inside, a grin spreading across her face as she takes in the atmosphere. God she's missed being around humans, and this place is packed with some of the rowdiest ones she's ever seen. Her favourite kind.
There's no dancing space as far as she can see (disappointing) but the bar is huge and there are booths lining every wall, the space in the middle filled with several pool tables.
She weaves her way through the crowd, thankfully remaining largely unnoticed, and slips up onto a stool at the bar, breathing out a sigh of relief now that her height is less obvious. She spins around on her seat, leaning one elbow on the bar and watching a group of guys at the closest pool table, trying (unsuccessfully) to gather some kind of hint at how to play the game, when a voice from behind distracts her.
"What are you drinking, pretty?"
She turns, expecting to find a bartender but instead there's a man on her side of the bar and uncomfortably close, a charming and yet slightly unsettling smile on his face. She forces one to her own to keep her frown away, the eerie sense of this guy being bad news creeping through her mind and making her thoughts slightly foggy.
“I’m really not much of a drinker, thanks anyway.”
He’s good looking enough, blonde hair, bright blue eyes and dimples in both cheeks on proud display as he grins at her. But her advanced senses are ringing every bell inside of her, warning her not to trust him.
“C’mon darl, no one comes to a bar unless they want a drink,” he presses, reaching out and letting his fingertips brush against the sliver of bare wrist peeking out from the sleeve of her hoodie.
She gasps and recoils too fast to be able to reign it in, her face twisting into a frown as she pulls her sleeves down and clutches them in her fists to cover her hands entirely. She really should've worn her gloves.
Demon.
He lifts both hands in front of him, a kind of peace offering, and takes a slight step back. “Woah, take it easy. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“It’s fine,” she clears her throat, hoping it’ll take the obvious rasp out of her voice as she struggles to get any words out at all. He grins and slides onto the stool next to her.
“If I promise not to touch you again, will you come and join us?”
She eyes him carefully for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and giving a small nod. He seems nice enough, respectful enough. And she’s never been given any kind of guarantee that her perception is always one hundred percent accurate. Maybe she gets it wrong sometimes. Maybe she’s been disregarding people her entire life based on what she sees of them on the inside, and some of them didn’t deserve disregarding.
She’s been on her own since she ran away from home after her parents’ relentless persistence that she signed the Agency’s treaty became too much, she could do with some friends. Maybe now she can’t afford to turn down every single person that gives her a slight dishonest vibe. Who is completely honest these days anyway?
He grins again and gets to his feet, nodding towards one of the pool tables as a gesture for her to follow him. “I’m Axle.”
“Sadie,” she replies, reluctantly slipping off her seat and noticing the way he immediately arches an eyebrow at her height. He’s a demon, a supernatural, he’s probably already worked out that she’s not human and she just about winces as she waits for the inevitable questions.
They don’t come, however. He’s either much more polite than she’d expected, naïve and just thinks that she’s short, or he’s already worked out what she is and is choosing to stay quiet about it in this public space.
She follows him over to the pool table where a group of five other men are standing around playing a game, and a brief wave of panic surges through her when she realises that they’re probably all demons. They usually hang out with their own kind, and it would mean that she’s heavily outnumbered by a group of supernaturals far more dangerous and powerful than she is.
They barely spare her a glance though as she comes to stand at Axle’s side, and he barely offers an introduction in turn, instead waving his arm around the group and simply referring to them as “the guys”.
It’s probably for the best. She can handle one demon, should the need arise, she can slink away from him unnoticed, but once she has the attention of an entire group of them she’s not exactly sure how she’d get away if she needed to.
--
For someone that doesn’t talk a whole lot, Morgan sure spends a lot of time on the phone. Tanner hadn’t expected her to be so… clingy. She seems to really miss the rest of Unit Bravo now that she’s stuck away from them, which seems strange to him given that he’d assumed she wasn’t so different from him and would enjoy the break and getting to do her own thing (apart from having to work with him, of course) for a while.
But she’s on the phone again. Granted, she’s talking to Adam about their mission, but still. The number of questions she’d had about what they were supposed to do had been alarming to Tanner until he’d realised that she was most likely just coming up with the need for so much clarification as an excuse to speak to someone from her team.
Whatever her reasons though, he’s bored. He gets bored quite often with her, he realises, and he finds himself watching her on the other side of the room from where he’s kicked back on the couch, obviously and shamelessly checking her out as she paces and speaks in a hushed voice into the phone. Maybe it’d be different if he worked with her a little more; in regard to both her flirtation and their current job. At first, it’d been fun to irk her and get on her nerves but it’s already starting to get old - even for him - and he decides that maybe he should make more of an effort to be agreeable if they’re going to be stuck together for now. Or he could at least sleep with her. That might relieve some of her tension and get her to stop being such a hardass, at least.
She runs a hand through her hair and turns to face him, scowling when she notices his attention and lifting her middle finger at him before turning away.
He grins and sits up straight when she finally ends the call and turns to face him again.
“They want us to go to that bar tonight,” she tells him before he has a chance to say anything, and he groans dramatically and slides down to a slouching position, throwing his head back against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.
“It’s all work with you,” he complains, opening his eyes again when he hears her moving and watching her cross the room and start to pull her jacket on.
“We are on a job at the moment, so yeah, it’s all work.”
“You know this place isn’t gonna be like Mickey’s, right?”
She pulls a face, only small and only for the briefest second but he catches it anyway and for the first time sees how uncertain she is about having to be in that kind of environment.
“You gonna be good?” he adds, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic.
It actually surprises him how much he cares about how much this is going to affect her, and not just for the job. It’s going to be a pain in the ass, definitely. Having to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s not overwhelmed while trying to do his job at the same time, but more than that, whenever he thinks about how painful this is going to be for Morgan his stomach twists slightly, churning uncomfortably and making him feel… he doesn’t even know. Worried? Is this what worry for somebody else is?
Probably not. He’s probably just dreading having to babysit her.
--
He can already practically hear her teeth grinding by the time they get to the door of Shakers, let alone inside. They can hear (to be fair, godawful) rock music as well as the noise of what sounds like a pretty big crowd through the door, and he casts a glance in her direction. Her jaw’s clenched, brow furrowed, and eyes narrowed as she stares at the door before turning to the side and meeting his gaze.
“What? We going in or not?” she snaps, and he shrugs and waves a hand at her, gesturing to her general demeanour.
“I dunno, are we?”
She rolls her eyes and steps away from him, but he sees her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath before pushing the door open.
It’s loud. Really loud. Not too bright at least, but even he immediately catches the faint scent of alcohol, cigarettes and weed in the air. He can only imagine how strong it is to her.
His concerns for her are quickly overshadowed though when it takes less than a minute for his eyes to land on a group of men playing pool near the back of the room. He recognises them straight away, which means that they’re going to recognise him straight away and they’ll be gone before he and Morgan have gotten anywhere near them.
“Shit,” he mutters, ducking his head and turning to face Morgan more so as to turn himself away from them.
“What?” she snaps, glaring at him and not seeming to realise that something’s gone wrong, too caught up in trying to distract herself from the sensations bombarding her.
“I know them,” he answers distractedly, looking her up and down for a moment before casting a quick glance around the room in search of somewhere quieter. Something that doesn’t seem to exist in this bar.
He grabs her hand and pulls her over to the bar, nudging her to sit up on one of the stools and standing beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders and leaning in close to her. The close contact seemed to work the previous day when she was starting to become overwhelmed on the street outside, there’s no reason to think that it won’t work again in here.
“What do you mean you know them?” she asks, her voice a little less impatient as she leans back against him slightly, and he doesn’t miss the soft sigh of relief she lets out as he feels her body start to relax a little.
He doesn’t know why physical contact with him, of all people, seems to help her out but he’s going to count it as a bonus when it means that he’s able to set her at ease enough for her to function in these situations.
He glances back towards the pool table, but looks away again just as quickly, leaning down closer to Morgan to hide his face when he sees that the group are starting towards the door.
“They know you?” Morgan finally seems to click on, looking quickly towards the group and then back at him, and he only just realises how close he’s gotten to her when her nose just about brushes against his when she does it.
“Mhm,” he distractedly hums in reply, and she studies him for a moment before a small smirk crosses her face.
“I’ve been trying to get this close to you since we met, and now you’re telling me all it would’ve taken was a few demons to scare you?”
This bitch. He frowns at her, his arm dropping away from her shoulders as he straightens up again and moves away from her, temporarily forgetting that he’s trying to hide himself.
“I am not scared.” He spits indignantly.
Of all the things for her to say. Scared.
“You sure, sweetheart?”
Condescension drips from every word and his frown deepens into a glare. “Fuck you.”
“They’re going to see you,” she ignores his insult and nods behind him, and his eyes dart towards the group that have thankfully already moved past him when he remembers that whatever she thinks about him, them seeing him would be a disaster and if they knew that he was after them they’d be looking for them for weeks.
He subtly watches them go, waiting until the last two people are through the door, a blonde guy and a freakishly short girl, and then grabs Morgan’s hand and pulls her off of the stool. “Come on.”
He practically drags her out onto the street, making sure to keep a fair distance away from the group without losing sight of them through the crowd until he realises where they’re going.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Morgan mutters from beside him, obviously realising the same thing at the same time, and he stops and watches them step through the doors of the same motel that they’re staying in.
He grins and looks over at her, letting go of her hand. “Our job just got a whole lot easier.”
“You think?”
He doesn’t bother answering, just heads towards the motel once he’s sure that they’ve had a chance to get to their room and he’s not about to run into them in the lobby.
He’s stayed here countless times, he knows pretty much the entire reception staff, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to find out what room they’re staying in and pay them a visit when they’re not expecting it. Then all he needs to do is convince Morgan that he doesn’t need her help with his next job, they can go their separate ways, and everyone will be happy.
--
tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @fhauvilles @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @agentnolastname @utterlyinevitable @masonscig
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sweetsmellosuccess · 4 years ago
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The Best Films of 2020
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The 15 Best Films of 2020
Normally, when I assess a full year of cinematic offerings, I consider both sides of that coin  —  the outstanding entities, and the least successful —  but the year of our lord two thousand and twenty provided more than enough misery for all of us, I do believe. Ergo, in my own small way to bring better vibes into the universe, for this year’s round-up, I’m staying solely on the positive tip, highlighting those films whose unfortunate release date during the Year of the Hex shouldn’t preclude them for being fully appreciated. Let’s take a year off from negativity and schadenfreude, shall we, and just stroll amongst the poppies and bright sunshine of some of the best releases of the year.  
15. The Invisible Man
“Leigh Whannell’s film is thoroughly modern in approach and sophistication, but the film it most reminded me of was made back in 1944. George Cukor’s Gaslight starred Charles Boyer as a loathsome husband who attempts to convince his already anxious wife (Ingrid Bergman) that she’s going insane by secretly rearranging things in their house and taking things from her so she thinks she’s always misplacing them. He preys on her emotional vulnerability in order to mask his own pathology and emotional detachment. The effect is absolutely enraging: Onscreen, he’s one of the more hateful villains ever committed to celluloid.”
Full Review
14. The Killing of Two Lovers
“From the opening sequence, with a distraught, estranged husband standing over the bed of his wife and her new boyfriend with malice in his heart, and a gun in hand, the film spirals out into incredibly well structured compositions, taking us inside and outside of David’s recurring psychosis, utilizing a bevy of techniques: The framing shrinks down around him, the sound gets muffled, as if underwater, save for the incredibly unnerving metallic sound of cables being stretched taut, and the sickening kathunk of a heavy car door slamming shut.”
Capsule Review
13. Another Round
“Typically, Vinterberg avoids simple conclusions  —  and God help us all if this film gets picked up by a U.S. studio and remade with, say, Vince Vaughn, Kevin James, Steve Buscemi, and Chris Rock  —  providing more or less equal examples of the delirious fun drinking with your friends can be (the film opens with a group of high schoolers gleefully doing “lake races” whereby teams compete to drink a case of beer while running around the nearby body of water; and closes with the same teen crew, and some of their teachers, whooping it up in celebrating their graduation); and the horrorshow it can become (one teacher ends up peeing the bed, and on his wife in the process, another wakes up bloodied and out of it in front of his neighbor’s house), leading to very real and horrible consequences.”
Capsule Review
12. Soul
“Co-director Pete Docter is the creative force behind many of Pixar's best titles, having a hand in the Toy Story franchise, WALL-E, Up, and also directing Inside Out, a brilliantly moving treatise on the subject of emotional upheaval. This film, which he co-wrote and made along with fellow co-director Kemp Powers, is his first film back at the helm since that high-water mark, and he has again dug into the fertile earth of our mortality and come back with a particularly vibrant crop.”
Full Review
11. The Burnt Orange Heresy
“Based on the novel by Charles Willeford, the film briskly moves through its paces, clouding the waters with the schemes of duplicitous men, who have sold out any love of art for their greater obsession of cash and prestige. A literary thriller in the vein of The Talented Mr. Ripley, it’s become a genre all too rare in the era of blockbuster bravado. This film will remind you what a mistake that is.”
Full Review
10. Lovers Rock
“In the course of the party, the fuses blow while the house DJ is spinning Janet Kay's "Silly Games," a fan favorite at the time. Undaunted, the guests continue dancing away, singing the lyrics a capella in delirious unison, as McQueen's camera swirls around the living room as if nothing happened. Such a heartfelt moment of unbridled togetherness, putting into distinct bas relief the sense of community we've been denied as a species in 2020, feels like a benediction, an epitaph for the year, and a salve for what we've all been so desperately missing.”
Capsule Review
9. Time
“Ostensibly, it’s about the strain of incarceration on even the most grounded of families (an experience naturally disproportionate for POCs); but, on a deeper level, it’s also about the manner of our use of the limited number of revolutions we get to enjoy situated on this earth. It is a profound knock-out.”
Full Review
8. New Order
“Meet the new boss, only in Michel Franco’s damning portrait of a society locked forever in cycles of oppression, revolution, and new oppression, it makes no difference who you are, what your belief system is, or whether or not you subscribe to a moral set of ethics.”
Capsule Review
7. Dick Johnson is Dead
“Utilizing stunt people and special effects, Johnson kills her father off a number of different gruesome ways, as a means of softening the blow of actually losing him as his mind slowly slips away. This eventually culminates in a final gambit, both acutely painful and deeply moving, in which our sense of things gets seriously upended. As Johnson put it during the post-screening Q&A, the film serves as a “doomed experiment trying to keep my father alive forever.” This film won’t make him immortal, alas, but it does make him indelible.”
Capsule Review
6. Martin Eden
“Marcello packs the film with offbeat bits and pieces of other films, including strips of what appear to be vintage home movies, sometimes in juxtaposition to what Martin is feeling  —  a group of kids swinging wildly from the bar of a fence, to a full galley ship taking in water and suddenly sinking like an iron ingot – which adds a more winsome, timeless element to the narrative. It’s clearly set in the past, but avoids being too dependent on that particular sense of place and time. Martin is a young man, at first, just coming into himself, and the actions he takes, what he goes through, the film seems to suggest, would be similar in any age.”
Full Review
5. Minari
“The film is certainly charming, but that’s not to diminish its straightforward approach to its characters’ plight. It doesn’t shy away from their difficulties, and as a result, it doesn’t cheat towards smarmy emotional closure.”
Capsule Review
4. Collective
“The breath of hope in the film, when the inept Minister of Health resigns, leading to the placing of a new, emboldened director who works quickly to clean the quagmire left by his predecessors, is just as quickly expelled after the next round of elections, in which the Social Democrat party  —  the very ones in charge of this catastrophe in the first place  —  gets re-elected with an even greater majority than what they had before. A perfect reflection of what happens when a government is allowed to exist without any meaningful oversight, other than from a bedraggled press and a disenchanted electorate.”
Full Review
3. First Cow
“Reichardt, a naturalist at heart, is not known much as a humorist, but there is a lightness to her screenplay -- co-written by Jonathan Raymond, her frequent collaborator, who wrote the original novel upon which its based -- that keeps it as sweetly airy as one of Cookie's fried confections. The two friends are so out of step with their surroundings -- the party of men Cookie initially travels with are little more than brutish thugs, and the fort upon which they end up is no better -- they almost had to find each other. They are reunited in the local bar of the fort only because literally every other patron runs out to egg on a brawl between two loutish combatants.”
Full Review
2. Never Rarely Sometimes Always
“Hittman’s eye for detail and emotional complexity  —  her characters can rarely articulate anything they’re experiencing  —  is incredibly acute, and she pulls tremendously understated performances out of her two leads.”
Capsule Review
1. Nomadland
“Perhaps no American director since Terrance Malick has made more of the collapsing light of dusk and twilight than Chloe Zhao. Much of her new film, which stars Frances McDormand as a transigent woman (“not homeless, houseless”), who traverses back and forth across the west in her beat up live-in van, doing seasonal work, takes place in that particular kind of vibrant half-darkness that shrouds the desert and its mountains with a magic kind of mystery.”
Capsule Review
Other Worthy Mentions: 7500; Assassins; Bacurau; Beanpole; Beginning; Black Bear; Bloody Nose Empty Pockets; Boys State; Come Play; Emma; Gunda; His House; Horse Girl; I Am Greta; Jacinta; La Llorona; Let Him Go; Limbo; Mangrove; Mayor; MLK/FBI; One Night in Miami…; Palm Springs; Possessor Uncut; Red, White & Blue; Relic; She Dies Tomorrow; Shirley; Shithouse; Shiva Baby; Some Kind of Heaven; Spring Blossom; Swallow; Tenet; The Dissident; The Invisible Man; The Nest; Sound of Metal; The Vast of Night; The Viewing Booth; The Way I See It; Vitalina Varella; Welcome to Chechnya
Inexplicably Underrated: 7500; Shithouse
Biggest Welcome Surprise(s): The Vast of Night; His House; She Dies Tomorrow
The Best Two Films I Saw This Year, Period: Satantango (1994); Harlan County, USA (1976)
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infinite-xerath · 4 years ago
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Runeterra Retcons 2: Aatrox and the Darkin
I did another one. There’s one more character I have in mind to do, but then I’ll probably take a small break from these))
Aatrox is an interesting case; while I don’t necessarily believe his current lore is BAD per se, I think he’s more-so a case of missed opportunity and wasted potential. Aatrox, to me, reeks of a case where Riot gave zero forethought to the future of this character when they created him. To fully understand why I feel this way, we’re going to have to take a step back and analyze some of the history of League itself, as well as some characters connected to Aatrox. So, with that all said, let’s look back at the history of this angry red swords and see if we can make sense of the changes given to him over the years.
Aatrox was released into the game back in 2013, under the title “The Darkin Blade.” Now, what’s a Darkin, you ask? Well, at the time, we didn’t really know, and it kind of became obvious that Riot didn’t either. Let’s have a read of his original lore, shall we?
I was always a fan of Aatrox’s original lore: an ancient, mysterious figure who shows up to help you turn the tides of a war, but only after you’d effectively surrendered your own humanity for the sake of victory. The fact that there was an entire race just like him became the center of fan speculation of years, and countless theories cropped up as to who and what the Darkin even were. Some assumed that they were related to the Seven Deadly Sins, while others thought they might be akin to the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Some thought they might just be a dying race, and that some might actually be benevolent, unlike Aatrox.
Unfortunately, Riot wouldn’t give us an answer for quite some time. All we knew was that Aatrox was a Darkin and that he looked a lot like typical modern depictions of demons. That does raise the question though: why didn’t they just make Aatrox a demon? He helps turn the tides of conflict with no apparent goal beyond just prolonging the chaos and suffering brought about by war. A lot of his voice lines even painted him as a psychotic “artist” of sorts, prior even to Jhin, that viewed conflict and bloodshed as elegant. Well, to better understand the full picture here, we need to take a step back and examine the broader picture here.
Now, admittedly, we’re delving in some speculation territory here, as it’s impossible to really say what Riot’s original plans for the Darkin were, if any. That being said, the inclusion of something like a demon would have had a lot of implications back in the day, as the Runeterra as we knew it then didn’t really have a “Heaven” or “Hell.” Sure, we had “angels” with Kayle and Morgana, but they were treated more like how Asgardians are treated in Marvel: more like a race of super powerful aliens than actual divine entities (keep that in mind for later.) If anything, what little we knew of an “afterlife” in League came from Yorick’s old lore, in which he acted like a psychopomp similar to Charon from Greek myth.
It wasn’t until Tahm Kench came out in 2015 that Riot properly introduced demons as a concept in the lore, retconning several other champions like Evelynn and Nocturne into being demons. For a bit of context: in Runeterra, demons are effectively malevolent spirits from the spirit realm that feed on negativity: fear, pain, hatred, and so-forth. When other characters started getting turned into demons, a lot of people, myself included, thought that Aatrox would meet the same fate. After-all, they hadn’t actually DONE anything with the “Darkin” outside of Aatrox’s bio, and he functioned in a manner similar to them. Some even theorized that the Darkin would be made to represent a specific breed of demon, and this theory gained even more traction when Tahm Kench was given special voice lines for taunting near Aatrox.
Then, on July 12, 2017, we got Kayn, and with him: Rhaast. Rhaast is the second Darkin character added to the lore: a talking scythe with an eye that possess its host. Kayn is able to hold back Rhaast’s influence, keeping it to a single arm through the use of shadow magic, but depending on your actions in-game, you can see what happens if Rhaast manages to win their struggle and take over Kayn’s body completely. With Rhaast’s introduction, it pretty-much cemented that the Darkin were living weapons that took over the hosts of their wielders, which made sense given that Aatrox’s sword was always hinted to be alive and have a mind of its own. In fact, the idea of the Darkin being living weapons, or at least being bound to their weapons in some way, was one of many fan theories raised since Aatrox’s release all the way back in 2013.
Unfortunately, the new champion’s bio didn’t give us a lot to work with. Rhaast was the weapon, but Kayn himself is the Champion, so a lot of his bio tells us more about Kayn’s backstory: how he joined the Order of Shadows, how he acquired Rhaast in the first place, etc. While this isn’t exactly a problem, it gave us no further information on the Darkin; what they really were, where they came from, and why there are only five left in existence all remained mysteries for the fans to speculate about. It still wasn’t even clear if the Darkin were connected to demons, or if they were something else entirely.
Now, it’s around this time that another theory began to start blowing up in popularity; technically, this was another old fan theory, but now that we had a general idea of what the Darkin actually were, there was another Champion wielding a living weapon that fans started to speculate might be connected to them: Varus. Varus is an old character, and though we won’t be deep-diving into him too much into this video, allow me to give you a tldr of his original story.
Varus was an Ionian archer set to guard the Pit of Pallas, a giant hole where his people had long ago sealed some unexplained corrupting purple entity that seemed like it maybe should have related to the Void somehow but didn’t. Varus resisted the entity’s influence for years until Noxians one day showed up and started slaughtering his people, wanting to get their hands on Pallas so that they could use it as a weapon because of course they did. Varus was faced with a choice: stay and guard the temple built around the pit or go back to his village and help his people fight. Varus chose the former and was apparently SUCH a badass archer that he single-handed kept the invaders at pay with his arrows, though this choice came at a cost: when Varus returned to his village, everyone he knew and loved was dead, including his wife and son.
Enraged, Varus returned to the pit and struck a deal with Pallas: he would allow the entity to inhabit his body in return for vengeance against the Noxians. Varus proceeded to wander the world with a bow made from the entity’s own solidified essence in the hopes of finding and killing… Basically every Noxian he could. Yeah, Varus wanted nothing short of full-on genocide, starting with the surviving soldiers that attacked his village. There’s a lot to go into there, but you’ve probably figured out the relevance of this by now: Pallas turned itself into a bow for Varus to take his vengeance in exchange for possession over his body. Not too dissimilar a living sword and scythe who also possessed people and had an insatiable hunger for death and destruction, right?
Riot seemed to agree, and in 2017 they released a music video along with a comic and an entirely new bio for Varus. Together, these updates served to not only retcon Varus’s backstory (a topic for another episode) but finally give us an update as to who and what the Darkin were. In a word: they were aliens.
In short, the Darkin were a race from another planet/dimension drawn to Runeterra for its abundant use of magic. They tried to conquer the planet, causing the Great Darkin War, which ended only when the races of Runeterra figured out how to seal the Darkin in their own otherworldly weapons. Varus, Aatrox, Rhaast, and two others were trapped in their weapons, which an unnamed warrior queen (possibly an Aspect) used to drive back the other Darkin and seal the portal to their world. The five that were imprisoned in their weapons were then scattered and hidden across Runeterra.
This, at last, brings us back to Aatrox’s new bio:
“One of the ancient Darkin, Aatrox was once a peerless swordmaster who reveled in the bloody chaos of the battlefield. Trapped within his own blade by the magic of his foes, he waited out the millennia for a suitable host to wield him - this mortal warrior was corrupted and transformed by the living weapon, and Aatrox was reborn. Though tales of the darkin have now passed into legend, he remembers only too well the destruction of his race, and wreaks his vengeance one sword blow at a time.”
So Aatrox was made into a general for an alien race who sought to finish what his people started by having the Runeterrans fight and slaughter one another in a series of bloody conflicts… For a few months, at least. Literally the next year in 2018, Aatrox finally got his visual and gameplay update, turning him into the World Ender we know today. Along with this came entirely new lore for him, as well as the Darkin.
Insert lore here
So… The Darkin are no longer invading aliens, but Ascended who went nuts and were trapped inside their own weapons. In other words, the Darkin went from being a race to being more of a derogative term for fallen demigods. What’s more, Aatrox received a VERY substantial alteration his character and personality: he went from being a war-loving “artist” who causes conflict for the sake of it to being a tortured soul who wants to die so badly that he’ll end all of creation to do it.
Now, like I said before: I don’t think this backstory is bad. I don’t hate it. It does a lot to flesh out Shurima as a region, gives us more info on the Ascended, and it adds a bit more nuance to Aatrox as a character. Imagine being trapped inside a weapon, losing all access to your senses. Imagine that the only chance you get to move is when you take over someone else’s body, transforming it into a warped version of your own former glory, only to realize that you’re on a time limit and the only way you can continue to walk, talk, see, hear, or feel anything is by slaughter’s people and consuming their blood. Imagine spending CENTURIES trying to find a way out, only to repeatedly learn that any means to free or even kill yourself ends in failure. Imagine being SO desperate to rest that you’re willing to end all of existence just to find peace.
I like Aatrox’s new story. I do. Honestly, the only real complaint I have is that Aatrox doesn’t exactly have a PLAN for how he aims to end existence? Like, he calls himself a World Ender and a god-slayer, but we only know of one god he’s actually slain (Pantheon) and given that Runeterra is still around, it seems like his world-destroying count is still at zero. Honestly, if he wants to end all of existence, I feel like turning the Void, a reality-consuming threat that he has FOUGHT BEFORE would kind of be the obvious solution? Honestly, I imagine that just chucking the sword into the Void would be a good way for him to end his own existence, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, if I like Aatrox’s new lore, why am I rewriting it? Simple, really: even if I overall like his current lore state, I feel like the road we took to get here was… Kind of long and unnecessary. It seems kind of obvious looking back that Riot didn’t have a clear long-term plan for Aatrox or the Darkin, as years of unanswered questions followed by multiple retcons kind of entails. From being the last survivor of an ancient race, to MAYBE being a demon, to being an alien, to finally becoming a fallen demigod. Aatrox’s history is practically a whole story in-and-of-itself, and I’ve long wondered how things might have turned out if Riot had, you know, picked a direction and gone with it a bit sooner?
So, here’s the basis of my rewrite: I’m gonna try and incorporate elements from all of Aatrox’s various backstories into a single, coherent biography. Can I manage it? Well, I’ll leave that for you all to determine…
When the skies are blackened by the flames of war and the earth is dyed red with blood, Aatrox draws near. For as long as conflict has existed among the races of Runeterra, the Chaos Blade has manifested to those deemed worthy, turning the tides of battle in exchange for the flesh of whoever wields it.
The true origins of the Darkin have long been lost time. Some say that they are the first weapons ever forged, corrupted by the malice of those who have wielded them over ages. Others claim that the Darkin are a rare breed of demon, of whom only five remain. Only one thing is certain: the Darkin exist only to bring death and destruction, and none embrace this more than Aatrox himself.
Tales of a wicked blade manifesting amidst the heat of battle exists across all cultures, from the frigid north to the blistering south. The sword is said to appear before warriors on the cusp of defeat: those who would give anything, even their own lives, for the sake of victory. Those who wield the Chaos Blade are granted inhuman strength and endurance, often haled as heroes for turning the tides of battle. With every foe slain, however, the Chaos Blade grows stronger, consuming the mind of its wielder and warping their flesh. In time, the hero becomes a mindless vessel, slaughter all in its path until slain. When its host falls, the Chaos Blade returns from whence it came, waiting for the moment that another might heed the sword’s call.
For ages this cycle persisted, until the day the sword manifested before a warrior of Shurima’s Ascended Host. After the Fall of Icathia, the Sunborn were called to face the encroaching threat of the Void, wielding celestial might and magic great enough to crush a hundred mortal armies. Before the Void, however, even the mighty Ascended began to falter.
The horrors summoned by Icathia steadily pushed north, consuming everything in their path and twisting the earth into maddening shapes. As their numbers dwindled, many Sunborn called to retreat, hoping to regroup within the capital and think of a plan. As some fled, however, the Ascended general Aatrox stood his ground. Pushing his draconic form to its limits, Aatrox struck down one abomination after another. When his great blade, soaked in the Oasis of the Dawn itself, was wrenched from its grasp, Aatrox fought with tooth and claw. Even if he were to fall, Aatrox would do everything in his power to slay as many Voidspawn as possible, resigning himself to death so the other Sunborn might rally their forces.
It was then, amidst the sea of madness woven by the Void, that Aatrox saw a sword embedded into the twisted earth. The blade seemed to call out to him, and Aatrox took it without question. In an instant, the general was filled with unimaginable strength and fury, and his allies watched in amazement as Aatrox fought with strength of ten Ascended warriors. Inspired by his newfound fury, the Sunborn rallied, their fighting spirits renewed at last.
When the conflict against the Void drew to a close, Aatrox was haled as a hero among heroes, though many of his former allies became wary of him and the wicked sword he now carried. Some suggested that the blade should be destroyed, while others, such as Aatrox himself, argued that its power would be instrumental if the Void ever returned.
Resentment and suspicion began to grow amongst the Sunborn, and the cracks only grew larger as Aatrox aided the other Ascended in summoning weapons similar to his own. The warriors of the Ascended host began to distance themselves from one-another and the capital, taking up posts across Shurima’s vast empire. They remained united only in the shared goal of protecting their empire.
And then the Sun Disc fell.
Following Xerath’s Ascension and the death of Emperor Azir, years of growing tensions erupted across the desert. Some Ascended raced for the chance to fill the now-vacant seat of power for themselves, while others insisted on finding a means to restore the royal dynasty. Debate soon turned to bloodshed, and Shurima was engulfed in a war that lasted centuries. It wasn’t until the Aspects of Targon intervened that the war was finally brought to an end.
Those wielding Darkin weapons were bound to their armaments with powerful magic, in-turn trapping the wicked weapons in the physical realm. The Darkin were scattered across Runeterra, and yet the souls of the Ascended persisted, stripped of bodies and senses.
For ages, Aatrox stewed within the sword that had become his prison, his soul slowly being corrupted further and further by the Chaos Blade until the two had become a single being. Ages passed and the sword was slowly forgotten, until a band of thieves broke into the Darkin’s prison in search of ancient treasure. When the thieves’ leader touched the sword, his mind was overwhelmed in an instant, his body transformed into a twisted likeness of Aatrox’s Ascended form. The Darkin slew the other thieves in an instant, drawing strength from their blood before breaking free of his long confinement.
Aatrox emerged into a frozen landscape with but a single goal: to bring about a war so violent, so destructive, that it would be the end of all things. He would be the World Ender, herald of a conflict to end all others. With every foe he slays, with every swing of his sword, Aatrox sews the seeds for violence and carnage, drawing one step closer to his magnus opus.
So, what did you think? As stated before: my primary goal this time around was to try and combine Aatrox’s various origin stories into a single narrative. Admittedly, I could only manage to do this by adding an air of mystery to the actual origin of the Darkin; maybe they’re demons, maybe they’re aliens, maybe they’re something else entirely. I know that might seem like a bit of a cop-out, but a large part of what made the Darkin so interesting to the community in the first place was the air of mystery surrounding them, and the room it offered for speculation and theorizing.
Another main concern, though, was that I wanted to find a way to blend old Aatrox’s personality with his new one. The thing I miss most about the OG Aatrox was that, despite being obsessed with war and bloodshed, he wasn’t just another rage monster. He was calm and composed, and a lot of his lines hinted at a deeper philosophy toward the inevitability of conflict rather than just “I wanna kill everything because I’m angry!” League has way too many of those, in my honest opinion. I thought that, by combining his mind with a semi-sentient sword that brings about carnage because that’s simply its PURPOSE, a little but of that old Aatrox might shine through.
But, as always, this is all just my opinion; how I, personally, would have gone about reworking the character. If you prefer Aatrox as he currently is, or think my version of the story is inferior, that’s fine! Feel free to share your thoughts and comments, but please, let’s try to keep it civil. After-all…
The last thing we want is to start a war over this…
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spoppersonality · 5 years ago
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SPOP Character Typing: Adora
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ESTJ, 9w1, 953, so/sp
I’ve seen Adora typed as ESFJ and ENFJ, and I get why people don’t think she seems “hard” enough to be an extroverted thinking dominant type. But I think this is exactly the kind of mistype that happens when people don’t know Enneagram. Adora is an interesting mix because she has a super soft Enneagram core type and a harder “take-charge” MBTI type.
So, let’s get into that.
MBTI: ESTJ
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I think what people forget when they type Adora as an extroverted feeling dominant type, is how incredibly personal and tactful Fe-doms are. (On a good day, anyway.) Adora, however, tends to be more impersonal and straight-to-the-point. Te-doms can also come off as people-oriented, that is not exclusive to Fe-doms, but they go about it differently. There is an Fe-dom in the Best Friends Squad, but that is not Adora.
If you think about it, Adora is a very classic Te-Si type. She likes rules and has a natural inclination towards implementing those rules in a very practical, hands-on type of manner. She’s very action oriented. She sees what needs to be done, and does it. ESTJs are highly effective in the sense that they don’t often stop to ask as much questions as some other types. They go about things based on what gets them from point A to point B, and what has worked in the past, or how they are used to doing things. They can also get quite hooked in moving from one plateau to the next in a routinely manner. This can often be how ESTJs go through life, if they don’t stop to think about why they are doing what they are doing, and specifically what personal values drive their actions. No wonder ESTJs are generally the jockiest jocks to ever jock.
Being a Te-dom doesn’t mean you’re not empathetic. Adora definitely is. It just means that you primarily show it through action. If a friend cries, for an Fe-dom the most natural course of action may be to sit with them and listen, and for a Te-dom it might be eliminating the reason for the crying. This is overly simplified of course, and real people as well as good fictional characters are multifaceted, but you get the idea. This is how Adora most often works. It’s not: “Catra, I can see something is bothering you, do you want to talk about it?” It’s: “Let’s take a skiff for a ride to cheer you up.”
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Adora can also be quite funny in a random seeming way, which is due to her tertiary extroverted intuition. ESTJs and ESFJs (tert Ne-types) are often one of the most hilarious people alive, because they like to use their extroverted intuition in tandem with their dominant function. The level of control they have over it isn’t often that great, so it comes off as child-like randomness. Their first two functions lead them towards order and predictability, but when Ne comes into play and they venture out of their usual habits, they may surprise you. The results might be unpredictable: Turns out licking sand didn’t work for Adora but with the help of her friends she managed to play Double Trouble’s game nicely.
In general ESTJs are not in their comfort zone with Ne-type of creativity or innovation but they are not hopeless with it. Adora struggles with the more unpredictable qualities of her sword, like turning it into different objects. She doesn’t use that quality too often and doesn’t have too much variety when she does. While Adora’s first instinct is to simply charge ahead, someone with high Ne would’ve been likely to utilize the flexible qualities of the sword to the max. But Adora can still manage it, her Ne isn’t low enough to be considered her Achille’s heel. She takes a bit of time with it but eventually comes up with solutions that work, such as carrying her sword as a bracelet.
Introverted feeling is what Adora desperately needs in her life and has trouble figuring out. If you think about Fi-doms, they are people who spend a lot of time thinking about who they are, what they want, what they value, and their life builds around that. It’s their most natural state, thinking about whether or not everything they face is something they like/dislike, if it’s good/bad, right/wrong, desirable or not, them or not them.
This is what makes the planets align for an ESTJ. They neglect this function, and when they finally start developing it, the whole world is new for them. This is very literal in Adora’s case, it’s like Etheria’s magic is waking up with her introverted feeling. (Because when all your four functions finally align it IS magic.) That function, introverted feeling, is essentially where she keeps her love for Catra, or rather, it’s the function she needs to be able to make one person, whether it’s Catra or herself, a priority. Te is a rather utilitarian function, and since Adora leads with that and has internalized the belief that her desires don’t matter, there’s nothing in her dominant extroverted thinking process that would justify her “selfish” desires. Te cares about numbers, masses and large scale consequences. She needs Fi, the function that is all about individuality, and essentially yourself. We know how much it takes for that function to surface for her, but when it does, oh boy.
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Enneagram
Core type: 9
As a type 9, Adora comes off as unassuming, warm and friendly. 9’s are all about forgiveness, self-neglect and acceptance.
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9 is the most “traditionally selfless” type, because unlike Enneagram 2s for example, 9s don’t expect anything in return for what they give to others. Adora’s upbringing has magnified that quality in her (which was obviously very intentional from Shadow Weaver). 9s also have a natural tendency to ignore negative feelings, so they can keep feeling “okay” and unaffected by the external world. This quality makes 9s susceptible to staying in bad situations and bad relationships for a very long time, because they so persistently see the good in others. This is why it took Adora so long, and why she needed evidence that was impossible to ignore to realize that the Horde didn’t have a good cause. 9s are conflict-avoidant because they fear loss and separation above all. That’s why Adora too is such a people pleaser. She would rather live in “fake” harmony, than be the one to create conflict that causes emotional pain. Unfortunately, that’s exactly why 9s sometimes upset others. Like how Adora is unwilling to do anything that would get her on Shadow Weaver’s bad side, which hurts Catra. Or how she pretends to be the She-Ra Plumerians expect her to be so she wouldn’t disappoint them, which only leads her to disappoint them more later. It’s very classic 9 of her to let things develop to a point where everything comes crashing down before addressing the conflict she really needs to address. 9s tend to go with the flow, and sometimes too far.
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One of the big things with 9s is that they lack a solid sense of self. They are out of touch with their needs, desires, and identity. Another thing that Shadow Weaver magnified in Adora. Basically, if you break a 9’s sense of self-worth far enough, they’ll become a blank canvas for others to write on, because they already believe they are somehow inherently “less” than others. They always assume to be the least important person in the room. As a 9, what being She-Ra essentially meant to Adora was being everyone else’s servant. For other types it would have meant different things, like to a type 4 it would have been about having personal significance in the world, and to a 3 it would have essentially been about being a celebrity. As a 9 Adora was also one of the most likely people to just roll with it. Like, if you threw something like that at a type 6, they would have most likely just bolted, and half of the storyline would’ve been about “I can’t/don’t want to do this!”. (=a tip for anyone who wants to write certain role swap AUs. ;D)
As a 9, Adora integrates to 3, so at her best mental state, she becomes driven, ambitious, present, and sees her value as a person. She’s no longer someone things happen to, but she’s the driving force in changing her life and the things around her. She disintegrates to 6, so in times of prolonged stress she can get easily irritable, pessimistic, and feel helpless.
Wing: 1
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This is where Adora gets her grit, and the moralizing side to her character. Having a strong 1-wing definitely helped her survive in the Horde but it also frequently adds fuel to her self-sacrificing: it’s so easy to back up that 9 quality by telling herself it’s “the right thing to do”. The Right Thing is all 1 cares about. It also plays directly into her dominant Te tendency to follow rules, and makes her the typical “Lawful Good” type of person. Catra’s accusation that Adora “thinks she’s better than everyone” doesn’t miss the mark too far. Even though Adora isn’t a core 1, and as such her whole identity isn’t wrapped up in being morally superior, she does care about having integrity to a certain extend. So, maybe she doesn’t literally think she’s better than everyone, but she still strives to be above certain things, and hates the idea of being “bad”.
Head fix: 5
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This is largely where Adora’s nerdy side comes from. 5s want to be competent, and they hate not knowing what to do, so they want a lot of information. Not knowing and not understanding frightens them. The most blatant expression of this with Adora is probably the whole thing with the princess prom. This side of her comes to surface when she can’t just adapt (=9) or do the right thing (=1). 5 is also detached and uncomfortable with their feelings, so this only strengthens Adora’s 9-tendency to not address hers. 5s are also big on compartmentalizing, so this greatly helps Adora to entertain certain difficult realities inside herself as if it’s nothing, such as Catra is an enemy she routinely fights, but she would also die for her in a heartbeat.
Heart fix: 3
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If none of the three other strategies work, Adora will try to solve things and get people on her side by showing off. 3s want to be viewed as valuable and useful by others, and in Adora’s case it’s probably best seen in the way she acts when she meets Huntara. 3 is where she gets her cocky side. It’s a funny contrast with her humble 9-core, and in most cases she only has enough confidence to act like this when she’s with Catra, or when she’s She-Ra. Having a 3-fix also plays into her need to be useful, because while 9s often want to be useful to excuse their existence, 3s also want to hear that they are useful, so whatever little vanity Adora has will always directly reinforce the idea that good things come from her overexerting herself.
Instinctual Variant: so/sp
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Social instinct is Adora’s primary instinct. She has a natural inclination to play by the rules of the group and acknowledge hierarchy, because social variants get safety from belonging and having a place, a role, in something bigger than themselves. Even though she has her hero complex, she doesn’t tend to fly solo until the stakes are really high. She never questions the Princess Alliance, it’s simply natural for her to move from one group to another, and that She-Ra’s strength belongs for the rebellion. She doesn’t really seem to get why some other people don’t seek the strength in numbers. Losing She-Ra also primarily means losing her place in the group for her, and she very much struggles to accept this.
Self-preservation instinct is Adora’s secondary one. It may seem like it isn’t because she’s so ready to die for others, but self-preservation isn’t really about that. It’s more about being preoccupied with questions of resources. Like, after turning against the Horde, Adora isn’t just concerned about losing the support of the group, her mind also immediately goes to “I don’t have a roof over my head”. She’s not as particular about having her physical needs met as a primary self-pres would be, but it’s included in her priorities. She feels out of place in Bright Moon because she’s used to different kind of surroundings, and losing She-Ra’s power is a hard blow because of losing the physical strength she has as She-Ra: her means for providing physical safety for others. She also desires some amount of independence, and She-Ra gave her that as well.
Sexual instinct is what Adora needs more in her life. That’s so tied to the whole point of the show that I’m not even sure what would be worthwhile for me to say about it at this point. The whole conflict between her and Catra relates so closely to it. Adora will routinely make sacrifices in her personal relationships for the common good, because one-to-one relationships are not her first concern in life. People who neglect their sexual instinct are uncomfortable with their more “primal” and intense feelings, so even in her closest relationships Adora is more about being friendly and accommodating and showing warm feelings to the other. She doesn’t have the “let me stare you deep into the eyes for hours and drown myself in them” quality that is characteristic of the sexual instinct. However, this is exactly the part she needs to accept in herself to be fully satisfied and to take her relationships to another level.
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SPOP is so juicy because it’s so much about personal growth. We see Adora face pretty much every weakness and blind spot that relates to her personality, and we get to see her change for the better. At least that makes it very satisfying for me to analyse, because I’m such a fan of growth. Can’t wait to get to analyse the other main characters, and the supporting cast too.
Also, if you wish I would do a particular character, just tell me and I’ll take that into consideration!
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godkilller · 4 years ago
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@ujinoko​
how does gin feel about the espada individually and as a collective?
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unprompted ask    //    thank you !
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          out of character.  Gin knows the Espada, as a whole, were created and enhanced using the Hogyoku under Aizen’s control. SO THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF THE ESPADA GIVES GIN A SOUR FEELING. The Hogyoku, which houses Rangiku’s stolen soul piece, has given life to these abomnation-esque pawns for Aizen to manipulate and use. It’s yet another violation, in Gin’s eyes, of his lover’s stolen power. No matter these Arrancar’s individuality, their personalities and powers and inclination to humor Gin and / or keep him company and socialize, there’s that underlying knowledge that they were birthed using her.
          Gin views the Espada, therefore, as extensions of Aizen. Subordinates, the same as those Shinigami that did his whims out in the Rukongai; they’re given the illusion of autonomy via Aizen’s casual plucking of their strings, and that’s that. Some are more important than others, either by the ranking on their skins or by their demeanor; Ulquiorra is one of the prized soldiers, despite being ranked Fourth, because Aizen prefers him. Gin, in some ways regrettably and against his best efforts, also tends to prefer the more rational and calm ones that Aizen too treasures. Ulquiorra, Starrk, and Harribel are at the top of Gin’s list... but he diverts this by teasing and pretending to prefer detestable and arrogant ones, like Luppi, and otherwise appear to gravitate towards his facade’s kin.
          Gin doesn’t hide his dislike for Nnoitra, and Barragan is unapproachable to begin with due to his own bitterness in being a subordinate to Aizen’s whims. Not likely to enjoy the company of Aizen’s co-commander, then. Yammy isn’t too approachable either, unless he’s being granted permission to wreck a place or person. Aaroniero creeps Gin out, downright, so he’s never spoken to them when alone. Grimmjow’s a loose cannon and Tousen’s already got him handled, so Gin sees no reason to interact. Zommari’s blind loyalty to Aizen and deep disdain towards Shinigami kind of throws a wrench into things, despite him being such a calm and contemplative Espada in comparison to the rowdier ones. Szayelaporro piqued Gin’s interest only briefly; he wanted to betray Aizen, but his intent was too blatantly obvious and his method of doing such was unfortunately ineffective. Unapproachable, ultimately, due to his knack for experimentation reminding Gin too heavily of Mayuri. Gin misses Nel, but also abhors the fact that she’s turned into a drooling screeching child. Even though she can be endearing and has the right idea in mind by aligning swiftly with Ichigo and company, he has a headache.
          Gin understands Harribel’s creed, but in relating to her openly it’d reveal his sentimentality, his connections, his own belief in sacrifice and love. So Gin avoids her less she seeks him out, and in that case he’ll merely smile and sway and do what he does best, till she likely tires of his games and questions prying into her own psyche ... and she dumps some water on him, or something else comical and dismissive. Starrk is typically napping, and knows that Gin can see into his bond with Lilynette the way a predator picks the weakest link instinctively, and therefore likely doesn’t trust Gin near. It’s been deliberately shown that child-like Arrancar tend to distrust Gin due to the murkiness of his intent. Starrk would pick up on that, and they’d both keep their respective distances. Only fair.
          Ulquiorra is the most interesting to Gin, watching the way he wades through humanity and evolves with that subsequent exposure. Ulquiorra doesn’t grow wary of Gin, he’s curious, he engages on his own. So it’s intriguing for Gin, especially if Ulquiorra ever ventures to ask Gin about the finer mannerisms of human emotion, since we know Gin’s excellent with psychoanalyzing people... it’d present him an opportunity to give a blunt rundown, GIN CAN GET POETIC ABOUT FEELINGS, a love-hate relationship in how he regards them, especially connections and the heart / love, within his canon character poems. So he could very well share these insights with Ulquiorra, with of course the joking add-on of ‘but I don’t have emotions so I wouldn’t know that for sure’ coupled with Gin’s classic grin.
          No matter how friendly Gin gets with these creations, he never gets too close. THEY’RE ALL LOYAL TO AIZEN, in one way or another, and if they’re not loyal to Aizen then they’re generally a loose cannon and too chaotic or stupid to interest Gin in the first place; see Nnoitra. Maybe in another life Gin could find himself caring more for some of the Espada, these unique creations and their individual personalities and powerful abilities. IT’S ALL INTERESTING ENOUGH, but Gin’s time in Las Noches isn’t spent wandering the halls in aimless search of a friend. No, he’s shadowing Aizen’s every move. Sleeping when he sleeps  ( or not )  and eating when he eats. Gin has only a set amount of time to try and kill Aizen before Karakura Town’s attacked and absorbed for the raid upon the Soul King’s palace. He can’t become distracted, he can’t miss his opening. Gin knows Aizen will only offer it once, and then never again.
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skinks · 5 years ago
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Please Please talk to me about Maggie Tozier and what she’s like and looks like and what Dilfworth Tozier loves about her and made him put a ring on it and in general how much her two boys love her and how she loves them.
[cracks knuckles] here we go
I was looking through my copy of the book yesterday to answer this ask but then I figured, y’know what? Canon can suck it. I tend to beat myself up over accurate characterisation for Richie and Eddie, but they’re main characters, Maggie and Went are not, so the details are inconsequential. Their ages in the Dilfworth fic mean that they’d have a pretty different life experience from their book versions, what with growing up in the 60s/70s, but imo all that matters is that they love Richie and are good parents. Canon is ours now!!!
- my no.1 headcanon rn is that Maggie sings like an angel, and sings all the time. In the car, in the shower, gardening, housework, cooking. She and Went have a pretty good record collection, but if Went is listening to something and hears Maggie singing to herself in another room of the house he shuts that shit off quick so he can hear her.
- I wrote in ithots that Richie busts out into song at the drop of a hat, right? well, where Richie gets encouragement with his Voices through Went participating, Richie gets his incessant singing from Maggie, because he grew up in a household where that was welcomed.
- Maggie doesn’t even notice she’s doing it until Richie joins in, or she turns around and sees Went gazing at her all dopey, and she gets self-conscious
- until Went is like “I don’t know why. You know I think you’re a songbird” and then grins and calls her Magpie. She says stop. He says, Maggie-pie? She throws a dishcloth at him but secretly loves it because she fell in love with how frank and practical he is most of the time, but also how silly he is only when it comes to her and Richie.
- he only calls her that when they’ve had one too many anyway, otherwise it’s all sweetheart, honey, darling, Mags. Marguerite, in Richie’s stupid French Waiter Voice. “Yes ma’am” for when he’s rearranging her guts. Maggie’s the one to call him “my love” the first time, but she said it kinda exaggerated and jokey, and Maggie just doesn’t joke the way Went and Richie do so Richie noticed the way his dad just cracked tf up and was like wow, Mom must be really, really funny
- so y’know how Richie calls Eddie “my love” in the book, and is generally quite physically affectionate? He picks all that up from his parents, watching their example. Wants to make Eddie laugh like that
- for some reason I always imagine she speaks like, French or Italian fluently. I’m stealing @honeyreynolds hc that her maiden name is Avery for Tex Avery, but maybe her own mother was European. She tries to speak French with Richie as a baby/toddler so that he’ll be bilingual, and she’s so proud/frustrated because he’s clearly smart and has a knack for linguistic imitation, but his attention span is just. Non existent
- still makes lil kid Richie giggle by doing exaggerated Italian and making him guess what she’s saying
- I think she’s pretty elegant and reserved and almost shy on the surface with a rly wry sense of humour, so people tend to think she’s snooty, but she’s just... so concerned with keeping the peace and not saying anything bad about someone. Tries to see the best in people. This can lead to a lot of embarrassment when Went is so upfront and medical-frank about stuff or if Richie’s being a dumbass in public, but really she just envies their typically masculine lack of inhibition
- this is because she’s got this killer wicked streak. Maggie’s got a hidden well of scathing diatribes and Went knows it because
- they met on a plane in 1971 when Maggie was flying back to college for her final semester of senior year, and the man in the seat next to her started having an attack of some kind. The stewardesses appeal desperately for any doctors on board, nobody answers. Anyone at all? We’ll have to land the plane! Maggie’s trying to slowly shift away from this man and his spasms without seeming rude when she hears a deep sigh in the seat behind her and someone saying “I’m ethically bound to admit I have a licence in dentistry,” in a voice like he’s in on some joke nobody else knows.
- this guy unfolds the longest legs she’s ever seen and comes to squat right next to her and her apparently dying seat partner, she notices he’s nice looking and keeps glancing at her, there’s banter. Eventually he shrugs and is like “imo this man has a bad case of wind.” And Maggie just TEARS Went a new one like oh nice diagnosis DOCTOR DENTIST where’s your seatside manner?!?! what kind of name is WENTWORTH anyway! and Went’s like 👀😳😍 and then the dying man lets out a giant fart and Maggie recoils, all her pretty poise and indignation turning to base disgust and Went bursts out laughing and offers her the seat next to him
- turns out his first residency is in the next town from Maggie’s college. She’s only dated preppy meatheads before who only ever tried to flatter her and stopped listening when she talked about her music theory degree or the books she likes. But Went always grins and side-eyes her and cranks the volume whenever Maggie May comes on the hits station, because then she’ll whack him with a book. She’s so SWEET he loves goading her into releasing some more of that plane rage, like one day she’s prowling on the edge of a rant about her TA and trying to be reasonable. Went’s like, do it. You’ll feel better. So she fuckin rants her head off for ten minutes until her hair’s all dark and wild like an Arthurian queen and she looks over at Went reclining all impressed on her dorm bed and he’s like. I have never been more in love in my life. Can you sit on my face and make fun of my name again
- so yeah they’re both like, quietly distinguished and outwardly calm model citizens of Derry but in private Went is the fuckin roastmaster and is Maggie’s outlet for frustration whenever housewife suburbia gets too much
- I always picture her as having dark and quite curled hair, sort of Lauren Bacall eyes, and she’s probably tall too. Like 5’8 to Went’s 6’0 or 6’1 which is why Richie turns out to be 6’2 lmao. A family of giants. Honestly the whole time I was writing the Dilfworth fic I was imagining Mary Elizabeth Winstead, that’s my early-30s Maggie that Went is so excited to come home he’s stocking up on condoms. God I bet she’s got some of those single dark beauty mark freckles on her stomach 🥵 Wears hats with big brims. Sundresses. Secretly likes to pretend she’s on a mysterious trip to Rome as she sits in the park watching Richie catch dragonflies. Maybe when she’s older and Richie’s a teenager she looks kinda like Olivia Williams, bc I’ve had a big milfy thing for her ever since she was the mother in the 2003 Peter Pan.
- most kids in Derry have a crush on either Richie’s mom or dad or both and this is unfortunately quite damaging to his self esteem, even though Maggie INSISTS he’s just so handsome. She hates seeing him so insecure
- she tried pot once in college and hated it. The only times she comes close to getting hammered is on book club wine because it’s the only way she can get through them asserting the female orgasm doesn’t exist, then she comes home mildly tipsy and joins in on Went and Richie’s raucous game of cards
- felt a bit left out when Richie was small, with how well Went was able to go along with the silliness. Went sees this and gets Richie to make up a game where she’s Queen Margaret of the Tozier Court and made Richie a knight. They all spoke in bad Medieval Voices all afternoon, and it becomes one of those super long-running family jokes, and Maggie still feels all happy inside whenever Queen Margaret comes up
- ruthless decision maker!!! She had to be, because Went’s so laidback he’s horizontal and is always like “idc what we do as long as you guys are chill” and Richie can’t concentrate long enough to pick what colour gumball he wants, so she has to be staff sargeant. They go to Disneyland and she’s like C’MON BOYS HUP HUP HUP and Went’s like “oh cripes son we’re being hustled!!” but they love it as much as she loves them doing what she says
- great cook because of her indeterminidely Mediterranean mother.
- she genuinely wants to understand Richie’s strangeness but is also stumped as to what to do to bond with him, since she can only think of things she’d do with a daughter. She WANTS to brush Richie’s curls and bake with him but she thinks he wouldn’t like it, so they stick with singing. Is delighted when Eddie very politely and very intensely asks for her help making Richie a birthday cake. She sees how different they are together, and remembers Richie coming home at 5 years old declaring he was gonna marry Eddie Kaspbrak when he grows up, and she thinks... well, if I must have a son-in-law, I would love this one as much as I love my son.
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randomestfandoms-ocs · 5 years ago
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Drop the Evie essay you wrote
okay so first of all it wasn’t really an essay the way some of my ramblings are, more like just me writing down all of my thoughts in a vaguely coherent manner bc my brain was running too fast to really organize it 
and second of all, just to be on the safe side, these are the potential trigger warnings that I would give for the essay — I don’t know if they all actually come up or not, but better safe than sorry, so proceed with caution!
Potential TWs: being outed, parental neglect, character death (canon), suicide attempts (semi-canon), eating disorders, lots of mental health issues, and lots of general trauma and feelings of never being good enough, and canon typical references to drinking/drugs/partying/etc
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so just like a fun fact, Evie’s vitamin water of choice is zero sugar strawberry lemonade and yes i spent too long reading reviews on different flavours all because gossip girl did an entire product placement episode
anyways now onto real thoughts let’s go lesbians let’s go
so okay evie has a... very negative experience with Lily’s various boyfriends and husbands.  When Evie was younger she was always hopeful that this time would be different, that they’d be a family, that her mom would actually stick around, and every single time she’s been let down and left heartbroken.  When her mom starts dating Bart, Evie is very against it but she just can’t be bothered to even try to talk to Lily — Lily will date him, maybe get married, play house, abandon her children, then get divorced, and the cycle will repeat, and Lily will never give a shit about how her children feel about it.  Bart is just the latest rich man for Lily to set her sights on.  Given the overall shittiness of most of Lily’s exes, Evie had figured she would be a lot more vocally against Lily dating again, but Bart... 
Bart himself may terrify Evie, but Evie’s unwavering faith that Chuck will always protect her outweighs that fear, and Evie has long since given up on her mom caring about her opinions so she just takes comfort in the fact that Chuck will be there and tries to just ignore the rest — and the fact that Bart is pretty much always away does help with that.  That being said, she was very distraught when Bart spends season 1 christmas with them, but then Bart’s “present” for her was flying Chuck home for a few days because Lily mentioned that Eric was teasing Evie about being excited about having Chuck as a brother, and he's trying to semi-win over the kids (aka bribe them into accepting him as Lily’s fiancé)
Evie speaks several languages!  She started learning French and Spanish at a very young age, and then picked more up from Lily’s various husbands.  She’s not fluent in all of them but she can hold conversations in eight languages — and four of them were from Lily’s boyfriends (and italian was half pieced together from French and Spanish), and she just keeps learning more because she tries to keep herself too busy to think at any given moment
Rufus is her favourite step-dad by far, but Chuck is her favourite step-sibling (and second favourite sibling, after Eric).  That being said, Bart was surprisingly decent to her because even he quickly figured out that Evie has the innate ability to get Chuck to do basically anything, and he wanted her on his side, only he underestimated how much Evie hates him for treating Chuck like shit — as she says in 2x07, “if you want us to be a family, you should learn how to be a dad”
Evie has a bit of a thing for stealing coats lmao — it’s not unusual to find her stealing Chuck, Eric, Theo, or even Nate’s jackets when she gets cold or starts feeling particularly self conscious.  At the housewarming party she actually gets to bothered by all the media watching her constantly that Chuck goes and gets her one of his blazers to replace the cropped one she was wearing, and she immediately feels a bit more at east
Evie is a jock like it’s understated but she’s on multiple sports teams at school and plays outside of school too — she’s also in dance classes several times a week, along with private vocal lessons, and being part of every theatre production at Constance Billard (musicals and plays), and is on the yearbook committee.  Basically, Evie needs a fucking nap, and with a lot of pushing from Chuck and Eric and Theo (to balance out Blair “do absolutely everything in the name of Yale” Waldorf) she does eventually ease up on her extra-curriculars
She holds far too much power in the Constance-St Jude hierarchy.  She’s a freshman, but it’s well known that Evie is completely untouchable.  Some people (cough Jenny) might try to cross Blair, but no one is stupid enough to go after Evie — she’s not just Blair’s protégée, she’s also under Chuck’s protection.  And when Jenny does try to cross her in season 3 (physical and emotional bullshit, public humiliation, telling the entire school she’d tried to kill herself and had been at Ostroff not “in florida”), well... she learns that even being family won’t stop her entire life from being destroyed
Speaking of Jenny... that’s a very messy relationship — I want to like Jenny, I really do, but I just... don’t so far.  They’re a very sweet relationship early on, neither of them had dated before and they were just really smitten with each other and things were good.  There were definitely some issues because of the Jenny-Blair war, but they’d been okay — or so Evie had thought, until Jenny dumped her by means of introducing everyone to her new boyfriend, Asher.  Then of course there’s the party and Jenny outing her, and then just not talking to her for months until she needs something from them (an in to the White Party).  Eric manages to convince Evie to play nice, but he does so under the impression that Jenny had apologized to Evie — he didn’t know she’d only apologized to him.  Eventually Jenny does apologize and Evie tries to forgive her, and she keeps giving Jenny more and more second chances (especially once they become step sisters), but Jenny really just keeps hurting Evie to get on top because with Blair gone, Evie immediately becomes the new queen, and Jenny cares more about being queen than being nice.  Little does she realize that part of why Evie became queen with no challenge is because she’s nice.
and regarding Evie’s other relationships... so serena was a really good big sister when Eric & Evie were kids — Blair was the responsible sister and Serena was the fun sister, but it was a good balance and it worked.  But when the twins were around eleven and Serena was around 13, she became besties with Georgina Sparks, and everything went to shit.  Serena started getting into partying and drinking and drugs and became just as flighty and unreliable as Lily, which takes a significant toll on the twins’ mental health — side note, one of their therapists at the Ostroff Centre believes that their significant codependency stems from the abandonment issues they have as a result of Lily and Serena just up and leaving them whenever anything “better” comes along.
And unfortunately for the twins, this was around the same time (grade 6) that Theo got sent to boarding school, so really they lost both their sister and their best friend at the same time, and Theo leaving also messed up the overall group dynamics and they half lost Nate too — he was still in their lives but he went from being the dad to Blair’s mom to being more of a big brother, and there was this sort of hole that didn’t get filled until a couple of years later.
And of course, a lot of it then fell to Blair to try to fill that hole and the holes left by Serena and Lily and went from being sort of “mom friend big sister” to “literally the closest thing we have to a mom”, which is also just a lot of pressure for a thirteen year old girl and part of why Blair and Chuck got a lot closer after he ended up becoming their dad was because she finally had someone that she could talk to too.
Also like full disclosure, Chuck never really intended to become their dad.  He started off as a reluctant big brother because he was Nate’s best friend and Nate was the dad friend when they were younger, and Evie just kind of decided that she loved him and like no one can argue with Evie so all of a sudden he was part of the family.  He doesn’t really become dad until the van der Woodsens move into the hotel because suddenly Eric and Evie are just always there, and he doesn’t even realize it until months later, after Serena is gone and he realizes that he’s been skipping parties to like play mario kart and shit with the twins and Blair is just like “lmao yeah buddy you’re the last one to get this memo”
and then there’s this list that I made of the NJBC’s roles in raising the twins and theo back when they were younger
Blair: holds their hands to cross the street, teaches them not to talk to people who wear sneakers or to strangers, teaches them how to dress themselves like respectable people, makes them finish their homework before watching tv, hates all of their nannies and only trusts dorota to take care of them Nate: teaches them to tie their laces and their ties, plays video games and sports with them, helps them with homework and doesn't get impatient when they struggle, lets them use his notebooks to draw in when they're bored Chuck: will destroy anyone who hurts them, teaches them street smarts and how to tell when someone is lying, is the one who lets them do dumb and reckless things because he'd rather they do them when he's there to get in trouble, still refuses to believe that they know what sex is Serena: reminded them that it's okay to have fun and draw outside the lines, stood up for them when lily was being a shit mom and always tried to protect them from the worst of her neglect, came up with games to play when they were sad to take their minds off whatever is upsetting them
And Theo!!!!!!  Theo has been their best friend for their entire lives!  They’ve known him since they were babies and the three of them have always been inseparable!  Like highkey they were just a more functional NJBC lmao, and we love them for it!  Theo getting sent to boarding school was really hard on all three of them but they stayed in constant contact and whenever Theo is back in the city, it’s almost impossible to see them not together.  Theo does know that they were in the Centre, so once he’s back full time, he’s spending as much time visiting them as he can!  Even when Eric and Theo are dating (and later when Evie and Theo are dating), the group dynamics really never change!  It’s still always the three of them, and sometimes Jenny in s1, they’re still each other’s family, and they’re still just a bit too interdependent to be entirely healthy (it’s the trauma and neglectful parents)
on a slightly related note, neither of the twins drink anything other than champagne and sometimes wine, and neither of them touch drugs at all, and it’s entirely because of Serena.  They’ve both seen how much she’s changed since she got into that scene, and especially since ‘liking partying’ turned into ‘alcohol addiction’, and they’re both too afraid of ending up like that to even take the risk.  It’s something that definitely sets them apart from pretty much any of their peers, but they’ve gotten very good at just laughing it off with a “hey, I just don’t want to end up on Gossip Girl tomorrow” which people generally accept
(that being said, Evie did smoke for a while pre-canon bc cigarettes curb hunger, but she hasn’t smoked at all since ending up in the Centre, and once she’s out too many people have an eye on her for her to even try, and she does want to stop)
(TW ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, fairly detailed discussion) so okay the breaking point for the twins... lily had just gone awol again and Blair was away visiting her dad and evie was at the archibalds’ house hanging out with theo, who was home for a weekend, and eric didn’t want to call anyone because lily’s disappearance had left him in a spiral of feeling annoying and like people didn’t really want him in their lives and there wasn’t a specific trigger but instead of the spiral slowing down or evie/chuck/blair being able to pull him out of it, it just kept getting worse until he was slitting his wrist in the bathroom — only Evie had just gotten home and when he didn’t reply to her calling his name, she got freaked out and started looking for him and when she saw him, she just... couldn’t deal.  She called 911 for eric but then she was just in the bathroom and covered in his blood and she didn’t know what to do and she needed to calm down so she grabbed a bottle of valium that she thinks was Lily’s but instead of just taking one pill she ended up taking all of them and downing them with a bottle of vodka serena had hidden — once she realized what she’d done she called Chuck and basically just said “I think I fucked up” and Chuck freaks out (understandably) and rushes to their suite and gets there basically just in time to see both of them being loaded into an ambulance; he claims he’s their brother and rides with them to the hospital where he calls blair, and arranges for his jet to pick her up asap, and then tries (unsuccessfully) to get in touch with lily
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