#very convenient series of blocks

[shinhyunjin]

── .✦ after the rain.

⟢ pairing: lee minho x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, non-idol au, established relationship

⟢ word count: 1.9k

⟢ summary: the one where a street interviewer asks the story of how you met.

⟢ author’s note: hello, everyone! this is minho’s version of the meet cute series. i’m not sure this is an actual meet cute lmao but i got this idea from @/meetcutesnyc on tiktok, so that’s what we’re calling it. this one’s dedicated to @hykwrld because she asked for the lino version. i hope you all enjoy, and i would love to read your thoughts on it if you do<3

“Excuse me, are you two a couple?”

“Yeah” your boyfriend answers in a heartbeat, as if out of instinct tugging at your hand and making you stop walking right as he does.

You barely have any time to register the stranger in front holding a mic up to you and Minho—and the cameraman filming you while at it—before he shoots another question at you.

“Would you mind telling us the story of how you met?”

Hearing a teasing giggle leaving Minho’s mouth, and looking up at him only to see him already looking at you with his signature smirk, you brace yourself for the answer he is about to give—the very same one he had given one too many times, whenever someone asked him how the two of you met.

“I picked her up from the street”.

You shove him off as soon as his answer reaches your ears. “That is so not—” your eyes go to the camera. “He loves saying that, but that is not how it was”.

“It technically was, though” he argues, staring at the camera as well. “So what happened was, I was on my way home at like 2 AM after having a couple of drinks with my friends, and as I was walking past an animal shelter that’s like two blocks away from my place, I saw this woman kneeling down in front of the door, absolutely drenched—it was raining, by the way—and she was like, holding something inside her jacket trying to protect it from the rain… and she was crying so hard, I couldn’t help but worry…”

Throwing a brief glance at you, he waits for a moment in case you want to add something else. When you don’t, and nod for him to go on, he continues the story.

“So I walked up to her and asked if she was okay, and she started crying harder and was like ‘I found this kitty on the street and he’s so little and I couldn’t find his mum, and I can’t bring him home because my roommate’s severely allergic and said there’s no way in hell she’s letting him in, and none of my friends would pick up and my phone died now, and the shelter is closed and I can’t leave him alone’”.

You feel your cheeks heat up over how perfectly he remembers your heartbroken speech—and over how funny his high pitched voice comes out as he tries to imitate your sobbing, desolated one.

“To be fair, I was going through it” you hopelessly try to defend yourself.

“It was cute how she didn’t even think of going to a 24/7 convenience store to at least shelter herself from the pouring rain while she found a solution” he throws you under the bus.

“I was going through it” you emphasize your previous point through gritted teeth, earning laughs from all three guys next to you. “But yeah, my ugly crying must’ve moved him a lot, because he didn’t hesitate to offer taking the kitty back home with him and bringing him to the shelter for me the next day” a smile creeps up your mouth, feeling your heart warm up at the memory. “And he also offered to let me dry up and charge my phone at his place so I could call a taxi. I usually wouldn’t have accepted, I mean, he could’ve been a psychopath for all I knew,” you hear him laugh next to you. “But I was freezing and exhausted, and for some reason I felt like I could trust him, so I just went with it”.

“Back at my place I lent her some dry clothes and we had some tea to warm up while her phone charged, and we kind of grew fond of the kitty right away” he confesses, still remembering how neither of you could take your eyes off the orange and white ball off fluff sleeping soundly on his couch. “So we exchanged phone numbers and the next day when she texted to ask about him I told her that I would keep him, and that’s pretty much when it all started”.

“Yeah…” you reminisce as well with a fond smile. “The kitty was his now but I did still feel responsible for the whole situation, so I offered to help him pay for his food and shots and whatnot”.

“Of course I said no,” he chimes in. “But then I realised that it was the perfect opportunity to keep in contact with her, since I did find her very cute and wanted to keep seeing her…” his confession earns a smile from you. “So we ended up co-parenting somehow and now he’s our son”.

“How old is the baby now?” The interviewer asks with a smile.

“One year and nine months” you reply. “He was only one month old when I found him”.

“And how long have you two been together?”

“A year and a half” Minho chuckles timidly.

“Oh, so you got together only two months after adopting him”.

“Yeah, the whole co-parenting thing really got to our heads” you joke, and Minho lightly shoves you away with his shoulder.

The interviewer chuckles, holding the mic up closer to Minho. “So, what do you love the most about her?”

“Ugh, do I have to get all sappy now?” He whines, leaning closer to you.

“I don’t know, is the thing you love the most about me sappy as hell?” You tease, smiling triumphantly when he sighs rather heavily, preparing himself for what’s to come.

“Her heart” he goes straight to the point, and his genuine answer makes you pout in complete awe. “She has the biggest heart, she cares so deeply about everyone, especially about me and Yong-ie, so…” his soft eyes lock with yours for a moment—your feline son’s name slipping up from his lips. “I mean, the way she was crying over him when she found him and refused to let go of him… I think she would've spent the whole night outside waiting with him for the shelter to open, had I not gone up to her right then; and that only makes me love her more”.

“I think I would’ve, actually…” you sheepishly murmur.

“And what do you love the most about him?” The guy asks you now.

“Can I copy his answer?” You laugh.

Minho rolls his eyes. “Cheater”.

“I do love his heart the most, though. His compassion…” you specify. “There were a lot of people who walked right past me crying that night, which was kind of embarrassing, and he was the only one who went up to me and tried to help…” you feel his hand tighten his hold on yours, and you give it a gentle squeeze right back. “And then when he said he was keeping Yong-ie the next day… God, I got the fattest crush on him right then and there”.

Minho laughs under his breath next to you, and you don’t need to look at him to know his ears are turning red.

“And what is the next step in your relationship?”

“Getting another cat,” you don’t hesitate to say, looking up to Minho, who smiles the brightest at you. “Maybe?”

“Oh, getting another cat, definitely” he agrees. “We’re living together now and her annoying roommate isn’t there to nag about cats to us—”

“Minho…” you call him out under your breath, yet he doesn’t mind it one bit.

He is sure your ex roommate was more of a cat hater rather than severely allergic as she claimed.

“So there’s nothing stopping us from getting as many of them as we want anymore” he finishes his point.

The guy in front of you laughs, both at his words and at your reaction. “And your names are?”

“Minho” he says, although you had already given his name away a few seconds ago.

“I’m Y/N” you answer as well.

“Well, Minho and Y/N, it was a pleasure interviewing you guys” he wraps it up, signaling for the cameraman to stop recording. “I hope you keep rescuing as many cats as you want”.

Saying your goodbyes to the TikTokers, not without first making sure to write down their account so you can later watch the video once it is up, you resume your walk hand in hand to your apartment—the one that used to be only Minho’s up until four months ago, before you moved in with him.

Although some people in your life had said it was too soon to move in together, given that you had only been together for a little over a year by then, it didn’t feel rushed at all. If anything, it felt right.

You spent most of your days at his place anyway, for Yong-ie was there and you couldn’t bring him home because of your roommate. It had come to the point most of your stuff was at his and you were begging him to let you pay for the utilities, since he had made it clear he wasn’t letting you pay for half the rent like you had suggested more than once.

In the end, the obvious solution was to make it official and move the rest of your stuff to his place, so that the three of you would be together every single day like the family you had become a long time ago.

“So… another cat, you say?” He smiles.

“Yeah… I think it’s about time Yong-ie gets a sibling”.

“I doubt the spoiled brat is gonna like it”.

You chuckle, finding amusement in the contrast of how tiny and defenseless he was when you first found him, versus how big and spoiled he is now.

He is an only child after all, and as the cat lovers you and Minho are, he truly is living his best life.

“He’ll learn to like it,” you try to be optimistic. “He must feel bored and lonely at times when we’re not home”.

“Should we pay a visit to the shelter then?” He proposes, right before a taunting smirk curved up his mouth. “Or should I wait for you to find another one on a rainy night and call me crying to pick you up at 2 AM?”

“You’re such an ass” you try to playfully let go of his hand, only for him to tighten his hold around yours and pull you closer.

“Maybe” he agrees. “But I’m still the father of your child and future children, so…”

You shake your head in amusement—unaware of whether the second part of his sentence was meant for the future cats you planned to adopt, or the actual kids you may have one day. Either way, over such a statement coming from him, you feel fulfilled as ever.

Although the two of you always felt sorry for Yong-ie and the state he was in when you found him under the pouring rain, you were oh-so-grateful for everything that came afterwards.

After all, you only have him to thank for allowing you to come across the love of your life on that cold and rainy night.

[direquail]

I think what bothers me most about how John is talked about in the fandom is the implication that a different (implied: better) person would've done things differently and somehow more right than he did.

When the text goes to lengths to explore how suddenly coming into an incredible amount of power in a fatally constrained situation cannot lead to a good outcome.

If you're putting John in dialogue with the concept of the "magical girl", which Muir has said he is (a little tongue in cheek, but)--these are young, often profoundly unready people, who often get taken advantage of by the people who give them their powers. And like, yes, John is not a teenager, but I think that's part of the point, is that at no point is a person really prepared to become as powerful as he did--even before he merged with Alecto. Even when he was fully in control of his powers, even when they were given with honest intent and trust, even when he used them with the best of intentions and tried to do the right thing, there was no way for him to be prepared, especially given the situation he was in.

And it's funny to talk about how bad John must be in bed, but also, this isn't a scenario where John is some self-deluding Elon Musk-like villain or loser. He is genuinely trying to do the right thing, in terms of rescuing the Earth's population, rescuing the Earth Herself, and doing it ethically (see: M--'s insistence that they perfect the cryo containers until they could transport pregnant women).

I really do think this is something people are blocking out, because it is one of the uncomfortable parts of Muir's message with the series. But ESPECIALLY because the people "critiquing" him as an embodiment of patriarchy and empire are failing to see that part of Muir's critique is of human vulnerability to power: That is, that power corrupts.

And this even has echoes with Gideon & Harrow's story! Harrow begins the series in a deeply unequal dynamic with Gideon! And she does horrible things, not just because she is traumatized, but because she is traumatized and has the power to act her desires out on Gideon. She might have the motive (trauma), but that's not enough without the means (power).

And, yeah, I do have a semi-salty angle on this because people are frequently loath to think critically not just about axes of oppression but individual relationships of power when it applies to them and to people they like. ESPECIALLY when there is a very vocal segment of the fandom that is enthusiastically pro-harassment. It's very convenient to villainize John and actively dis-identify with him, because otherwise, you'd have to face the question of whether you'd do any better in his place. But the thing is, the mission of revenge he embarks on is a lot closer to many peoples' hearts than they'd like to consider.

That's the whole point.

[bbokicidal]

"Good Luck, Babe." - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : Part 2 to the "Are You Serious...?" mini-series where SKZ are walking red flags. Here is your comfort-not-comfort, because sometimes there are no happy endings and they don't redeem themselves.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, Breakups, Unhappy endings sorry not sorry. This is also rushed and I'm very tired but people wanted it so bad so here it is. <3

"Are You Serious...?" Hyung Line Here

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities -> You leave when he isn't home.

It was two forty-three in the morning when he had texted you that he was leaving the studio, walking with his head down and eyeing his phone to see the little 'Read' message pop up. When it didn't come through after a few moments, he tucked his phone away with a soft sigh and continued on.

It was two fifty-eight when he texted you asking if you wanted anything from the convenience store. Again, no reply or read receipt, so he assumed you had fallen asleep and simply wouldn't reply. You were probably curled up in the sheets, hair messy and face puffy with slumber. The thought made him smile as he paid for his water.

It was five after three when he stepped into your apartment and locked the door behind him.

It was three thirteen when he stepped into the bedroom after washing his face, stopping in the doorway. Your nightstand was cleaned off and you weren't in the bed.

It was three fifteen when he picked up the sheet of white on your side of the bed to read over the scribbled and frantic handwriting, tear stains littering the paper.

'Don't bother falling in love again until you can get your priorities straight.'

It was three twenty-five when he messaged you once more, asking why you had decided to up and leave so suddenly.

And it was three twenty-five when the blocked receipt popped up on his screen.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself -> You remove yourself from the relationship while he is on tour.

If he didn't have the audacity (or BALLS.) to tell you he was going on a six month tour until the day before he left, he didn't deserve to know you were leaving the relationship at all.

You'd packed your bags full of your belongings, leaving gifts Minho had given you on your shared bed and leaving everything practically spotless The drawers were empty, the bed made and folded so neatly - the living room cleaned, carpet vacuumed, kitchen spotless and ready to be filled with cooking and shared laughter as hugs and kisses were exchanged.

The door fell shut softly behind you, the sound of your suitcase rolling down the hallway quietly echoing in the apartment before you grew too far away for it to recognize the sound any further.

Minho stepped into the apartment three months later, unlocking the door and letting it fall shut behind him. He stared into the emptiness that was his apartment, eyes dragging to your key sitting on the bare countertop. He breathes out slowly, pulling his mask down beneath his chin and letting his eyes wander over the quietness of the home.

He couldn't be upset. He knew he set himself up for this in the long run.

Even then, he couldn't stop himself from softly calling out your name - only to be met with no reply as he dreaded.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt -> You finally snap on him.

"Shut up! Just shut -- up!" You finally yell, bringing your hands down hard on the counter in front of you.

Your boyfriend stares over at you in surprise at your outburst. "What is your problem?" He huffs out, blinking a few times just to clear the shock from his face. "Don't start throwing a tantrum."

"This isn't a fucking tantrum, Changbin! This is me telling you to shut your mouth for once! I don't need this-- berating that you constantly give me. You don't know when to just shut up and it drives me crazy sometimes...! You tell me 'this doesn't look good,' or 'You talk too much,' or 'You're too loud.'"

"You ask me if you're too loud or if something looks good. Do you want me to lie to you?" His eyes narrow as if he's so obviously right that you are wrong.

You scoff, tears clinging to your lashes. "I ask you sometimes and yes, I do appreciate your honesty, but I don't always need your opinion, Changbin! It's like you -- use my appreciation of your honesty to just voice your negativity towards me now. You just say shit just to say it."

His lips part as if he wants to defend himself, but you cut him off by rounding the corner and beelining for your shared bedroom.

"If you can't learn to shut your fucking mouth, Bin, I don't know if we can keep this relationship up for much longer."

His eyes widen in surprise and he sinks where he stands, hand twitching on the countertop as if wanting to reach out to your retreating form. Had he messed up that badly all this time?

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior -> You grow fed up with it and decide to break it off.

"What was that?" He snaps all too quickly, resting one hand on the door of the bathroom so no one else would enter. Even though there were.. multiple stalls.

"I was talking to someone, Hyunjin. It's called socializing. And surprise! Isn't it crazy someone is talking to me tonight?"

"Hongjoong? Talking to you..? He doesn't even know who you are -- Why would he?" His eyes narrow, offended already that you seem to insinuate something regarding him. "What are you trying to get at?"

You scoff, eyes rolling dramatically. A habit you'd picked up from him, unfortunately. "You never talk to me at afterparties because you're too busy being social with the other idols. I get that you should talk to them for press and to look good and whatever but Yeji isn't your girlfriend, Hyunjin - I am! You don't need to stand there all night ogling her and being smooth..!"

"At least if she were my girlfriend, my girlfriend would look fucking good for once."

Your jaw pops open as you stare up at him, fists clenching at your sides. You'd done your absolute best to dress as nice as possible tonight - granted yes, your makeup was smoked out and your hair was a bit messy from dancing but you'd been trying to enjoy yourself while your boyfriend stood at the bar talking to --

You feel a huff of air leave your throat before you pull open the door, ripping it out from under his hand where he leaned. He fumbled, glaring down at your retreating form. "Where are you going?"

"Back to Hongjoong." You reply, never bothering to turn around.

"Why? I'm talking to you now, isn't that what you wanted? My attention?" He moves to follow, stopping in the doorway when you do turn to glare up at him.

You seethe. "Quit worrying about why I'm talking to him, Hyunjin. Maybe you should worry yourself with wondering why you just lost your girlfriend instead."

He blinks, ears red with anger. "I don't want you talking to him--!"

"And I don't give a fuck, because you're not my boyfriend anymore!" You step back, lifting a hand to flip him the bird as you disappear into the crowd once more in search for the captain of Ateez. "Call me never, babe!"

[chxrryhansen]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁 𝐀𝐔

Pairing; Dark!Club Owner Ari x Shy!Reader

Warnings; dark themes, unbalanced power dynamic, daddy kink, no smut in this part but as usual Minors Please DNI!!

Summary; You knew it was a bad idea showing up to the most notorious club in the city, but it’s your best friend’s birthday and you can’t say no, right? So, what happens when the owner himself, Ari Levinson, spots you at the bar, claiming you as his own from the moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s finally here! The first instalment of my very first series, apologies for no smut but i promise the next part will be very smutty to make up for it 👀 bare in mind this is just the introduction!!! please don’t be afraid to ask questions and remember to reblog and comment💗 i love to hear your guys feedback!

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

You climb out of the uber, reaching to pull the hem of your dress down as you and your friends stumble towards the club.

You had finally agreed to try out the biggest club in the city, "Cherry Bomb.” Since it was your best friend Sarah's birthday your group decided it was only fair she could choose which clubs you were going to tour for the night. You had been putting it off ever since the opening night a few months ago, the reputation not being something you had particularly wished to be involved with.

All you knew was bad things happened there, and from what you had heard the owners, Ari Levinson and Lloyd Hansen, two brothers in arms, were so cruel and unforgiving that even the richest men in the city dared not to step foot in the place, and those who did shortly regretted it. Their names were known around the streets, the most notorious club owners to exist, 70% of clubs in the city all belonging to them, more money under their belt than the government itself.

An incident a few weeks back had became the talk of the town, according to Sarah a well known patron had gotten a little handsy with one of the clubs dancers and when he was given a warning to back off, he refused. Claiming he spent enough money in the club grounds to do as he pleased, including groping innocent dancers without permission.

Long story short the bouncers ended up forcibly removing the man, cussing and struggling on his way out of course, you know, the usual druken male rage and feeling of entitlement. Seemed like a pretty convenient coincidense that the exact same night the man was found beaten to a bloody pulp in a back alley, his face practically unrecognisible.

It wasn't long before the 'rumour' was quickly snuffed out. They were good at that, making things.. people, dissapear. Almost as if it never happened... as if they never exhisted.

Now that you were standing infront of it, you couldn't deny, it was beautiful. Even from the outside, the bright neon sign glowing in the moonlight, multiple bouncers blocking the large glass stained doors, making sure to check each persons id before unhooking the stanchion, allowing said persons entry. The queue seeming endless.

Lucky for you, your friends had been gifted VIP tickets, you didn't even bother to ask who they got those from, or how. You didn't want to know. You flashed your id at the pretty bouncer, his buzzed hair, large muscles and stern face making it quite obvious as to why he had the job he did.

You bounced your foot as he scanned over your card before opening the barrier and letting you inside. Sarah was quick to grip each of your hands, practically dragging you inside once you began to hesitate, not wanting you to change your mind so soon.

"Come on, babe, let's get those sweet legs moving!" Sarah hollers from ahead, her hand intertwined with your own as the rest of the girls hurried towards a booth.

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea, Sare.." you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers as she tugged you towards your friends and giving you a slight nudge into the cushioned seats, the red velvet material instantly soothing your hot thighs as you sat.

She reached down, holding your cheeks in both hands and facing you towards herself, sliding into the booth next to you "Listen, i know you're worried and if it makes you feel better i promise we can leave and go somewhere else, but just give it a try, please...for me?" she pleaded, giving you her famous puppy dog eyes.

"You know i can't resist that face." you whined as she cheered.

As you slowly got more drunk you began to forget why you didn't want to visit. The atmosphere was astronomical, the whole club being fit for royalty. The girls hooted and hollered as you trotted off towards the bar on your way to buy in a round of drinks. You waited at the bar with your card in hand but as you went to hand it over to the bartender he paused you.

“It’s on the house.” he says while he wipes down the bar with a rag, a smile on his face. He was handsome in all fairness, standing at around 6'2, his bright blonde locks and pretty blue eyes causing you to pause for a moment before giving him a puzzled look, tilting your head sideways.

“Is it a nightly special or something? I didn’t see anything about free drinks on the poster outside…” you begin yet he’s already scuttling off to take another couples order, shooting you a sly smile over his shoulder. Leaving you even more confused than before.

You slowly reach for the tray of shots when you feel a large hand on your shoulder, causing you to spin around in shock, ready to fight off any unwanted men. You pause yet again, having to look up to catch the mans face.

His 6’5 form towers over your much smaller figure, dressed in a dark purple suit and tie, his pearly blues shining in the colourful strobe lights, looking down at you with a slight smirk. His dark beard covered most of his face and his long curtains framed his godly sculpted face. Even with his suit on his arms bulged through the material, his thick biceps almost bigger than your head.

You shortly snapped out of your daze as his leather gloved hand squeezed your arm. “C-Can i help you, sir?” you stammered, worried incase you had been caught gauking.

He laughs “Not even a thankyou, Sweetheart? I thought you’d have better manners than that.” he teases, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You stutter as you try to find your words, seeming as they were lodged in the back of your throat.

“I’m kidding, name’s Ari…you gonna’ give me the curtesy of knowing yours or you just gonna’ keep starin’ at me with those pretty eyes?”

“A-Ari as in… Levinson?” you question, swallowing harshly as the nerves quickly built in your stomach.

He shakes his head gently with a smirk "So you know me, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the realisation of who the mystery man is, your arms instantly beginning to shake, your card still in hand. You were never good at dealing with situations such as this one, always being labled as the 'shy girl' of your group. Sarah being the complete opposite. Usually men in this situation would back off, sensing your uncomfortable trembles and leaving you alone, but not Ari. If anything the smirk on his face grew wider at the sense of your fear.

"Steve, why don't you head over to booth two, give the girls their shots." Ari calls out towards the handsome bartender from earlier.

The man, Steve, is at your side in an instant "No prob man, have fun you two." he winks, collecting the glasses and sauntering off with a wink.

Ari shakes his head with a laugh, “Why don’t you come with me.” he leans down to whisper in your ear. The vibration of his vocals in your ears sending shivers down your spine before he struts forwards, holding out his thick palm for you to grab on to, and almost as if your in a trance, you begin to trail behind him without hesitation. Sliding your smaller palm into his own as he led you through the club.

Your nerves never allowed you to talk much, or make your own decisions, that being the reason you followed the stranger without any question asked, which is exactly why Sare was usually always there to do it for you. But, your drunken confidence had allowed you to go to the bar alone, which you were beginning to really regret. Your confidence being blown out of the park as the attractive beast watched you from infront with a careful eye.

Shortly you arried at the unknown destination, trailing nervously behind Ari as he unlocked a large door, which was infact bolted shut. He pushed open the door, looking down at you, edging you to enter, and so you did. Your eyes lit up as they searched the vast room, expensive furnature lining the room, bottles of champagne worth more than your house filling the cupboards above his desk.

Ari pushed the door closed, moving to sit on a cushioned purple chair, his thick thighs spread wide as he removed his gloves, pouring himself, and you, a glass of his finest drink. His cold eyes beckoned you forwards, your legs shaking as you stepped towards him, standing inbetween his spread legs.

He patted his thigh with one hand "Sit." he called out, his voice sweet yet stern.

You looked at him shocked, your lips parting slightly, were you really going to sit on his lap? A man you just met? Who you didn't even know? "I-I don't think i should Mr Levinson." you whispered.

His eyes grew shades darker at your refusal, not even giving you time to debate your decisions he reached out, gripping your waist in his thick palm and pulling you down, sitting you sideways on his lap as you gasp in shock. His other hand pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear as you squirmed under the pressure.

"Pretty girl, next time i ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked. You understand?" he asked in a low growl.

You swallowed your nerves and nodded gently under his deep gaze, your body trembling.

"Ah ah, words baby."

"Yes, M-Mr Levinson, I-I understand."

Ari groaned underneath his breath, not understanding how lucky he had gotten that a pretty little thing like you would just waltse right in at the perfect moment, almost as if you were made for him. Like a lamb in a lions den. "As much as i love the way you say my name, call me Ari, sweet girl."

Again, you followed his command. "Yes, Ari."

"Good girl." he rumbled, pulling your bottom lip gently inbetween his index and thumb, loving the way you felt on his lap. Your innocence and submissive nature automatically triggering his dominance, his cock growing hard in his slacks as your plump ass squirmed on his knee.

You keened at his praise, a fluttery feeling appearing in your lower half. Of course Ari noticed this, the way your pussy pulsated on his thigh told him all he needed to know.

"You ever been with a man before, sweetheart?" Ari asks while he strokes your hair, not even having to shout due to the soundproof room blocking out the clubs music.

"Um, n-no i haven't, my Grandma wouldn't really approve of that sort of stuff, she said i should wait till m-marriage." you whisper shyly.

Ari blows out a puff of air at your innocence, desperately trying to control himself. All he wants is to ruin you, in every way you can imagine, and more. He smirks, leaning into your shoulder, pressing his nose against your sensitive neck and taking a deep inhale. Groaning softly, your sweet scent driving his instincts wild.

"Your Grandma seems like a very smart lady, little girl. You live with just her, huh?"

"Yeah, i never really knew my m-mom and dad, and my grandpa died shorly after i was born s-so it's pretty much always just been me and her. She does her best to take care of me, taught me everything i know." you speak with a bright smile, Ari notices how your stutter stopped when talking about her, he thought it was sweet, how much you must care about her.

However, the dark side of his mind was quick to take a seat, the realisation that you never had a father figure making his cock impossibly harder. Knowing he could be that for you, and knowing you needed a strong man like him in your life to make all those decisions for you.

"I think i changed my mind, baby. Why don't you call me daddy from now on, mkay?" he spoke softly, yet the edge in his tone still clear.

"D-Daddy?" you muttered, confused as to why he would want you to call him that.

He moaned hearing your sweet voice call him by his new found title. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, choosing not to elaborate on his previous statement. "Good girl. I'm gonna' take care of you from now on, yeah? Anything you need, you come to me. Pass me your phone, sweet girl."

"Oh, i-i don't have a phone.. daddy."

Ari's eyebrows knit together softly "You don't have a phone? Why not?"

You shake your head, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "We uhm, w-we can't really afford that sort of stuff."

"Well that just won't do." he speaks in a teasing tone, tickling your waist making you giggle softly.

Suddenly a loud bang causes you to shoot upright, you quickly dash off Ari's lap, moving to stand away from him, his office door slamming shut as a tall moustached man enters. Your eyes widen in fright, knowing how violent the man standing infront of you truly was. You knew who he was too, Sare had told you plenty of stories about the cruel Lloyd Hansen. You often wondered if he even had a soul.

"Man it's fuckin' packed down there, what the fuck are you doing up here." the man groans, not even noticing you until he turns. He lifts his sunglasses, staring you down, his eyes scanning over your figure, pausing and licking his lips at the soft flesh beneath the cut of your dress, your pretty pink dress having ridden up your thighs.

"Lloyd." Ari bellows, sighing in annoyance at his disruption.

A smirk similar to Ari's appears on the man, Lloyd's, face. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he speaks in a sultry voice. He begins his descent in your direction and the second gets a little too close, Ari shoots up out of his seat, moving to stand infront of you. A low rumble vibrating through his chest.

Ari stood slightly taller than Lloyd, with broader shoulders and thicker legs, the muscles in his back visible as he stood infront of you, almost as if he was protecting you, a hand wrapped around your hips rubbing his thumb in circular motions over your dress….and of course the most important detail, his luscious full beard compared to Lloyds 90s porn stache. They stared each other down, asserting some sort of dominance over one another… Ari seemingly winning as Lloyd begins to back up.

He lets out a chuckle, lifting his hands in a surrender position, taking a few steps back. "I mean no harm, just wanna' ask the pretty girl for her name, s'all."

You begin to quiver yet again, Lloyd's presence scaring you back into your shell. His dangerous aura sending goosebumps across your trembling figure. "I-I think i sh-should go." you whisper, tugging at the hem of your dress in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

"Don't move, sweets. Lloyd. Get the fuck out of here man." Ari bellows.

“I think you’ll find this club is mine just as much as it is yours, big bro. C’mon. Introduce me to the beauty.” he chucked yet again, probably at Ari’s fury. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears at this point. He didn’t even want Lloyd looking at you, nevermind talking to you.

“I mean it Lloyd get the fuck outta’ here man-“

Before he can stop you, you make a quick dash for the door and at the sound of Ari's resistance your legs carry you quicker than you could've ever imagined. Not looking back once as you pull the door open, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep, your chest heaving at the stress of the situation, wiping your sweaty hands on your dress and making your descent down the club stairs, shaking your head in confusion and fear, eager to find your friends, craving their comfort and hearing a hushed "You fuckin' asshole." in the distance.

[sunoosdesire]

𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎 ¡! ❞ 𝒍.𝒎𝒉

summary ── .✦

despite knowing yourself better, you truly never intended to fall into this little routine. two bottles of water, one small treat, and the same seat in the same convenience store two blocks from your apartment. the company was the same, as well. a nearly silent clerk workin the night shift. he was there for every study session.

pairing ── .✦

soft!convenience store au!lee know x fem!reader

genre ── .✦

fluff, smut, convenience store au ˎˊ˗ first part in potential series

likes, comments, and weblogs are appreciated ! please consider sending in reqs

Two full weeks of grueling late-night studies, two weeks of 2 A.M in the 24-hour convenience store a couple of blocks down from home. You tried to convince yourself that you were more productive when the temptation of your bed wasn't set in your mind, but really, it was an excuse to enjoy a small snack. Your new routine was practically set in stone, a habit in the works.

University had been unforgiving as of late, your choice of major not exactly a peaceful one. Studying wasn't a maybe anymore; it was, unfortunately, what your life now revolved around. That's exactly why these convenience store trips started happening. The small counter set against the window provided work space, and it was usually quiet at this time. No distractions, no excuses.

Tonight wasn't particularly different from the others; same routine. You left your apartment, school bag hanging from your shoulder, and walked right to the Byeol Mart. Entering, though, bells jingling, your subconscious sense of autopilot was interrupted when he spoke. The stoic clerk, who was always there, and had never once spoken a single word to you.

"You're twenty-two minutes late."

You could only blink, looking around as if there was anyone else to pin his accusation on. Of course, per usual, there was no one. Ignoring his cat-like stare, you slowly approached the refrigerated shelf, grabbing your two bottles of water. You let out a small breath through your nose, noticing your typical treat was, seemingly sold out.

When you approach the checkout, the exact snack you were looking for was tossed onto the counter. The clerk stood silently, observing your shocked expression. "I was about to restock," he tells you, ringing you up like he hadn't just given you a mini aneurysm. "You're late. You usually come in at 2:10. It is now... 2:36."

You slowly hand him your card, trying to comprehend how this total stranger, who seemed so uninterested in you before, had now commented on your own nightly schedule. You glance down at his name tag, which hangs sideways on the pocket of his apron. Lee Minho. Nice. You would add that name to your internally stored creep list.

"I see that," you respond wearily, taking your card and very important studying supplies. "You gonna write me up?" He doesn't respond, doesn't even give you a second glance. Nodding through the silence, you take your typical seat, deciding not to pay the strange man any mind. He was just another night shift weirdo who got off on being creepy.

Throughout the next few nights, you do have to admit that you've fallen into a routine of making small talk with the strange clerk every time you come in. He starts leaving out your snack before you even arrive, and you start sitting in the seat closer to the checkout counter. He wasn't bad company. Not great company, but not bad.

In fact, you may have started to look forward to your little study sessions. Minho opened up more each visit, the last one having been the most eventful. He greeted you and showed you a picture of his cats. Not much, but from him, it felt like an offer of friendship.

"Fourteen minutes late," he states simply, not even looking up from his phone when the bells on the door jingle. When you finally come to the counter with your water bottles, he tosses his phone onto the chair behind him, the device landing on top of his jacket. "Why do you look like that?"

You raise a brow, handing him your card. "I'm tired. It's two in the morning," you answer, clearly unamused. He hums, sliding the card and snack back to you. "You don't usually look like that," Minho says, pulling out a slim can from behind the counter, offering it to you. Staring blankly, he shakes it in front of your face. "It's an energy drink."

"Yeah, I know what it is. I don't want it."

He gives you a look, one full of judgment. A look you often received from him. After a pause, he turns around and heads into the back. You take that as your sign to sit down and begin studying. Now or never. Only a minute later, Minho returned without his apron. He collects his things, slipping on his jacket, and spinning a set of keys on his finger.

"I'm closing early. Go home."

You can only stare in disbelief as he starts shutting off the lights. "Can you do that?" You scoff, standing and shoving things into your bag. He ignores you, holding the door open. Minho blinks twice. He wasn't joking. "You should go to bed," he tells you, just as you're walking out.

Oh. So that's why he was doing this.

He walks out behind you as you roll your eyes, locking up. It only got weird when you looked behind you, and he was there, walking at a slightly slower pace. "What're you doing?" you question, pausing to stare at him. He looks behind him, and then back at you. "Going home? We live in the same building."

You narrow your eyes, glancing towards the empty street. As much as you knew that Minho wasn't capable of kidnapping you, it was odd that he said that. You never noticed him before. You assume he could tell what you were thinking, because he raises his hands walking past you now. "I'm not lying. Apartment number 504. You're 512."

You suppose if he were just trying to follow you, he wouldn't necessarily know that, but he could be a crazy stalker. You let him lead, not wanting to risk it. "You're fucking weird," you mumble under your breath. He looks back at you and shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Apparently, he wasn't lying, because when you get to the building, he pulls out his own set of keys. "Do you want to meet the cats?" Man, was this guy a total loser. You linger at the end of the hall, looking towards your own door. "Are you gonna kill me?" You ask, pursing your lips. "Do you want me to?"

You let out a breath, turning to face him now. "Not necessarily." You felt like you probably shouldn't go into this random's house, but, at the same time, this is the same guy who ate pudding and watched romance dramas during his shift at a convenience store. That's why you ended up going inside.

He turns on all the lights, clicking his tongue a few times. Three cats come running from another room, circling Minho with vibrating tails. "That's Soonie," Minho introduces, pointing to the cat at your feet. "This is Doongie and Dori." You squat, offering your hand to one of the orange cats, allowing him to smell you.

"How handsome," you coo, scratching the base of the cat's tail. Minho hums, walking further inside. He steps into his kitchen, grabbing a small tube of whatever disgusting squeeze treat was in the jar by the fridge. He tears off the top, pushing some of the chicken substance out. "They go crazy for this stuff," he mumbles, the three cats circling him like hungry sharks.

"Why do you work late every night?" you suddenly ask, gaining his attention. He shrugs, kneeling to offer the demons the treat. "I like it. It's quiet. They pay me pretty well," Minho lists, patting Dori's butt. You begin to look around, seeing several photos of friends hanging on the walls.

It isn't long before the two of you strike up a conversation, and the words and questions start to come naturally. You and Minho naturally migrate to his couch, his three shadows following, lounging either on him or the armrests. "It was hard not to notice you," he tells you. "I just thought it was weird that you came in so late every night."

"That's the only reason?" you joke, kicking up your feet as you observe him. He was so much more normal in his own home. "And I thought you were pretty," he adds, staring you dead in the eyes. You stare back, eyebrows slightly quirked in surprise. "One night, I left my number in your spot, but you stopped sitting there and never saw it."

You laugh at his confession, looking down at your lap. "That's hard to believe," you respond. He only shrugs, moving slowly to pull the small slip of paper out of his pocket, holding it up for you to see. Snorting, you take it from him. "Well, now I have it," you tell him, putting it in your own pocket.

There was no lying to yourself; Minho was handsome. Horribly, devastatingly handsome. You didn't mind one bit that you now had his number. In fact, you wouldn't mind getting closer. "I want to kiss you," he says abruptly, pulling you from your thoughts. "Excuse me?"

He pushes Doongie out of his lap, sitting up. "Can I?" You pause, totally thrown off guard. Yes, you saw this guy every day. Yes, you had been talking to him late into the night for about an hour now. Yes, he just called you pretty and gave you his number. However, you were totally not expecting this from him.

You open your mouth to respond, only to close it a second later. There was something about him that was drawing you in. He was just so charming. In a... Minho kind of way. You find yourself leaning in, Minho's hand coming up to the side of your face, and just like that, you are kissing a guy you hardly knew, but totally wanted.

As he tilts his head slightly, you take this as an opportunity to take the lead, assert your dominance, because you thought he wouldn't. Oh, how you were so, so wrong. He's grabbing your jaw in an instant, pushing his own tongue into your mouth. The sudden switch sent a quick heat into your chest.

Minho hooks his arm under your knee, pulling you closer. He moves the hand on your chin to the back of your head, keeping you in place as he bites down on your lip. "Do you want to keep going?" he asks, his soft voice a contrast to his rough hands and aggressive mouth. After you nod, he shakes his head. "Tell me."

"I want to," you answer in a whisper, giving him the green flag he was looking for. He wastes no time in unbuttoning your top, clearly growing impatient as he rips through the last three buttons. "Pretty girl," he purrs, letting his fingers lightly trail up your abdomen, tugging your bra strap and letting it snap against your skin.

"Minho. Let me see you," you mumble, his lips back on yours. He fumbles with his jeans, tugging them off slowly, no longer in a rush. He kisses your cheek, and then your jaw, before his lips land on your breast, a ghost of a kiss this time. "You'll see me, baby. I gotta take care of my pretty girl, first"

You look down at him, fingers in his hair. "Your girl?" He bites down on the flesh of your tit, gently sucking until he was sure it would be bruised. "Mine." You suppose you weren't opposed to the title, though he could've taken you out first.

His other hand finds your shorts, pulling them down your thighs. Nimble fingers find your clit through your panties, pressing down as he marks you. "Quiet now, but just wait. You'll be so loud for me, won't you?" His words dripped from his lips, thick and heavy like honey. It was a promise you knew he'd keep.

"Minho. I want you. Now," you tell him, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck, eyes fluttering as he touches you so gently. He slides out of his boxers, thick length bobbing. He had a clean cock, pale with a maroon-ish tip. Average in length, but not so average in girth. "Don't even wanna warm me up? Needy girl," he coos, pumping himself as he takes his thumb, pulling at your bottom lip.

"You need it, angel? Tell me you need it," he sweetly demands. He wasn't messing around, but his voice was so gentle. "I need it, Minho. I need you. Please don't make me wait," you beg. He looks down at you through lidded eyes, tilting his head. "Such a sweet girl, slutting yourself out to someone you just met. Only for me, though, isn't it?"

He pushes your panties out of the way, rubbing his excited tip against your glossy folds. "What a cute pussy. Think she can take me?" Before you could answer, he's pushing in, no prep, no warning. You let out a heated moan, hands immediately flying to grip his shirt. He pushes the decorative couch pillow under your head, ensuring your comfort like he wasn't splitting you open on his dick.

"What a sweet girl. You can handle it, pretty," he soothes, pressing down lightly on your belly, making sure you feel him. "Minho, please, please," you breathe, reaching for his arm. "I've got you, baby. You can do it."

He slowly begins to move, keeping your legs pressed to your chest. "That's a good girl. Just relax." He leans forward, kissing the inside of your thigh. He picks up his pace, finding his rhythm. His heavy balls begin slapping against your ass, and your moans pick up in volume and frequency. "So dirty, baby. You hear that? You hear how wet you are?"

It wasn't long at all before you felt that burn in your tummy turn into a tight squeeze. "Cumming, cumming, cumming," you cry out, reaching up to tug on his soft hair. He covers your hand with him, hitting deeper. "Good girl, you've got it. You're doing so, so good. You can do it," he praises.

As you squeeze around him, crying out, eyes squeezed shut, he groans, chasing his own high. He pulls out, grabbing your ankles so he can push your legs back, cumming all over your puffy pussy lips. "Fuck. Fuck! You're so good, did so good," he breathes, kissing the heel of your foot as he collects himself.

He leaves for just a moment, coming back with a warm rag, carefully wiping you up. "All better. Come here," he tells you, pulling you into his hold. "I'm gonna take you on a date. Tomorrow morning. We'll go get breakfast," he whispers, and in your sleepy state, it makes you laugh. "Okay. Sure."

Sorry for the poor quality, I'm exhausted

PLESE REAQUESTS PLREASE PLAES PLEASE PLAESE

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

enemies to lovers w/ spencer reid plzz 💗

.⋆｡Whispers in the Dark｡⋆.

Spencer Reid x plus size reader

You and Spencer have been at each other’s throats for months and the team is sick of it. So while on a case in a conveniently tiny town, they do something to fix it

Warnings: usual cm warnings (kidnapping, murder, serial killer), enemies to lovers, one bed trope (i’m not sorry), confessions, little bit of partial nudity, Spencer and reader are horny for each other and neither know how to deal with it, implied smut WC: 2.4k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

If there was one thing that was a guarantee in this life, it was the DOCTOR (as he always liked to remind you) Spencer Reid would not keep his fucking mouth shut. You used to think it was endearing the way he so passionately spoke about anything and everything but after the 30th time he interrupted you (in front of every mind you), it got annoying real fast. And somehow, it was even worse today.

A series of kidnappings occurring in a small town in the middle of buttfuck nowhere that exactly replicated the town’s urban legend about a vengeful spirit killing those who tried to leave without offering sacrifice. Given your extensive knowledge on the development of folklore specifically tied to serial killers, it was an unspoken agreement that you would be taking the lead on the case.

But Reid had a very different idea.

“This is obviously someone using the story to get rid of people they have a vendetta against.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the young doctor. His lean body blocked the column of victim photos as he pointed to the map of the town beside it. He had drawn over several places with a red marker and although the abduction sites did fall into his contracted triangle of a comfort zone, something in your gut told you it was more than that.

“Look, I’m going to keep saying it. This goes way deeper. This has been happening for generations. 2002, 1985, 1968, hell even all the way back to the fucking 1820s! It’s either all 17 year olds getting killed or 17 people killed total each year it occurs, with it switching each time.” Spencer made a sound that was almost a scoff but with Hotch’s steely gaze fixed on the both of you, he covered it up by clearing his throat.

“Mark Adin was 18.”

“He turned 18 the day he died, Reid! And if you looked at his birth certificate, you’d see that his time of death was an hour before he would actually turn 18.”

“If you would just-“

“Alright!” Derek placed a firm hand onto Spencer’s shoulder, making him stumble slightly. “We get it, you’re both freakishly smart but I think it’s late and we all need some sleep.” He shot you a look as you crossed your arms over your chest, red hot anger and frustration still bubbling up inside you.

It always ended like that, one of the other members of your team stepped in before insults could be hurled (it’s happened once or twice before) and suggested a break while you and Spencer continued to glare at each other. He continuously undermined your theories and in return, you questioned his intelligence. 

“I’m sure Y/L/N will realise how ridiculous she’s being after some undeserved rest. I mean, when is she ever right.” Your stomach dropped and Derek’s smile dimmed for a second before he wound an arm around the young doctor’s shoulders and guided him out of the conference room the team had commandeered far quicker than he normally did.

You opened your mouth to shout something back at him but Emily grabbed your forearm before you could. “It’s not worth it.” You met her gaze and quickly deflated.

“Yeah okay.” She gave you a soft smile as you both left the room together, missing the weighty glance Hotch and Rossi shared.

——————

“I can’t believe that you and JJ are doing this to me,” you whined, hiking up the strap of your go-bag higher on your shoulder, “you promised last time that we had to share rooms that it would be you and me. I don’t want to get stuck with Hotch again, he snores like a fucking freight train.” Emily poked your ribs as she passed by, shooting you a mischievous grin.

“You were too busy flirting with Reid to notice us making sleeping arrangements.” You huffed and followed her out of the elevator.

“I wasn’t FlIrTinG with him and by the way, that’s disgusting you even thought of that.” The hallway was dead silent save for the faint buzz of the ice machine at the very end.

“Yeah, that’s definitely why you totally weren’t checking out his ass while he was setting up the white board.”

“Emily!” You hissed but she only laughed in response. 

“Come on, it’s so obvious that you like him! This childish rivalry you have is just sexual tension so for all of our sakes can you please just fuck him already so we can actually do our jobs.” 

“Alright maybe I would like him if he wasn’t such an ass to me all the time.” You conceded, earning you a sly grin from your friend as you both came to a stop outside your hotel room door. “But! He constantly undermines me and makes me feel like shit so it’s never gonna happen.”

Emily stood by her own door, her key-card already in hand. “And you love to rile him up. So, never say never.” And with that, she slipped into her room, shutting the door before you could retort.

You rolled your eyes as you unlocked your own door and stepped in. The shower was already running but what mainly concerned you was the lack of a second bed. You sighed heavily, dropping your bag on the empty side away from the door.  You were too exhausted and frustrated to even be mad about having to share both a room and a bed with your boss. Too exhausted in fact to notice the sweater on the chair in the corner couldn’t have possibly belonged to the older man.

Quickly, you stripped down to your underwear and slipped on your sleep clothes, figuring you could wake up early and shower before heading back to the police station. You sighed as you crawled beneath the sheets, the worn mattress immediately cradling your soft body.

Your eyelids had just begun to flutter shut when the water turned off. You turned onto your other side in anticipation of the bright light from the bathroom fully waking you up but what you didn’t expect was the accompaniment of the one voice you hadn’t wanted to hear until you had at least 6 hours of sleep and a massive coffee.

“What the hell?” 

“Fuck me.” You sat up and took in the sight of a very damp Spencer Reid wearing only a towel around his waist. You refused to look down at his naked torso (no matter how badly you wanted to). 

“You’re not Morgan.” He retorted.

“And here I was thinking you were a genius. Do you usually walk around half-naked with Derek?” He didn’t dignify you with a response this time, only grabbing his bag and retreating to the bathroom once more. As soon as the door shut, you launched yourself at your phone.

<I’m going to fucking kill you

>We’ve all packed noise cancelling headphones so don’t hold back ;)

>BTW before you even ask, there’s no more rooms available. Small towns are just great aren’t they

<I’ll get you back for this

>Sweet dreams

You could scream as you shut off your phone, Emily’s texts disappearing, leaving you staring at your reflection on the black screen. You should’ve known something was up when Hotch insisted that everyone take separate SUVs to the hotel under the guise of everyone splitting up first thing in the morning. The man was a fucking menace. 

The mattress groaned as you laid back down, far closer to the edge this time. If Spencer took your hint and just left you alone for the rest of the night, you would consider it an overwhelming success. This time when the door opened, the light was already off, letting you breathe a sigh of relief.

The bed dipped and your body tensed for a moment. You waited for him to speak, but when he didn’t, you finally relaxed. In the silence and darkness of the room, you could pretend that you were anywhere else.

“Will you stop hogging the blankets?” You knew this peace couldn’t have possibly lasted.

“If you had turned on the heater I wouldn’t have to.” You grumbled but still released your hold on the covers just enough for him to take some more of it.

“Not my fault you’re always freezing for no reason.” The blanket lifted from your leg as Spencer fully wrapped himself up. You sighed but decided not to pick a fight, Emily’s words still circling your mind. Instead you wrapped your arms around your stomach as you drew your legs up, curling around yourself. You just wanted to sleep.

“What, no witty comeback?” You sighed heavily and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I get that I don’t ‘deserve to rest’ but I’m exhausted Spencer. Neither of us want to be here so can we just try to get some sleep and leave each other alone.” Thankfully, he stayed silent, for a moment at least.

“You called me Spencer.”

“Oh my god, can you please just let me sleep? Yes I called you Spencer, it’s your name isn’t it?” You snapped although you knew what he meant. You had never even referred to him by his first name in the almost 18 months since you had been on the team, just the same as he did with you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Fine.” You pressed your face into the thin pillow beneath your head, determined to finally fall asleep.

“No, Y/N I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t have said to you.” The bedsprings screamed in the quiet of the room and suddenly you could feel the gentle brush of Spencer’s breath along the back of your neck. You suppressed a shiver as best you could. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Why are you bringing this up now? Are you trying to get laid or something?” Your tone held no bite but you could still feel the way he flinched. A sour taste bloomed in your mouth. “Sorry. For what it’s worth, I’ve been an asshole to you too.”

Tentatively, you rolled onto your back, your shoulder now brushing his. Soft light bled into the room from the light in the hallway, dimly letting you see his silhouette. Already, Spencer’s hair was a mess, different strands sticking up or to his face. His right hand rested on his chest while the left was by his side, barely a fraction of an inch from touching your own. He turned his head, making eye-contact with you for probably the first time since you had known him.

“Why— What did I do to make you hate me so much?” You muttered, suddenly unable to speak any louder than a whisper. You watched his chest hitch and then deflate.

“You didn’t do anything. I guess— it was easier to hate you than admit the truth.” The warmth of his skin made you breathe a sigh of relief as he pressed his hand to yours.

“And what is the truth Spencer?” Even in the limited light, you could see the way his eyes dropped to your lips. His lithe fingers curled around your wrist and gently lifted your hands so that it rested between your heads. 

“That when I’m around you, I can’t concentrate on anything besides how beautiful you are, how intelligent, how capable. You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since the moment we met and it’s angered me.” You didn’t realise how close you were to him until the tip of his nose bumped against yours. You sucked in a breath but it did nothing to ease the floating feeling in your stomach.

“Why’s that?” You were both now on your sides in the middle of the bed, on the edge of something more, if only one of you would fall first.

“Because I knew that the second I accepted it, there was nothing I could do to stop myself from falling for you, even if you would never feel the same.” 

You smirked. “And here I was thinking you were the smartest man alive, Dr Reid.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles with a smile and before you could tell him that he was wrong and quite frankly dumb for not seeing through you (like everyone else on the team did), his hand was on your jaw and his lips on yours.

You moaned into his mouth when he leaned onto you. You grabbed at his back under his shirt, your nails digging into the surprisingly well-defined muscles along his spine. Spencer’s head tilted, encouraging the kiss to become more passionate as his tongue traced your bottom lip. You tangled your fingers in his messy hair, tugging at it slightly as your mind began to go fuzzy with the lack of oxygen. 

Spencer smiled against your lips, placing two or three more soft kisses against them before rolling onto his back once more, leaving you breathless beside him. You followed him down, putting your head on his pillow. You stole another peck from him as he clutched at your wide hips.

“I can’t believe how long it’s taken us to finally talk this out. We were both being really stupid.” You giggled against his now swollen lips.

“Yeah we have.” Something tugged at your mind, breaking you away from the warm bubble of affection you were lost in.

You shot up. “What, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” Spencer practically pleaded, his hand tightly gripping at your thigh.

“You’re right, we were both being stupid! We’re both correct. What if it’s not just one unsub, but a whole family of them? 17 years between killings, Spencer!” Now it was his turn to sit up, his brown eyes wide with realisation.

“It’s a coming of age ritual. The unsub is killing people they know but under the guidance of the person that did it before them.”

“So the place where they’re keeping the victims before they kill them should be in the comfort zone and it should line up with all the past ones!” He beamed at you. “But maybe we should wait till morning to tell the others, they do need their beauty sleep.”

“And we don’t?” His hand moved higher, slipping beneath your sleep shorts, making you shudder.

“Definitely not.” You swung your leg over his hips and sat on his thighs, kissing him once more.

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Criminal Minds

@lokiandbuckysdoll

[deathofacupid]

FLOWERS OF FLESH AND BLOOD. 𓂃 s. gojo. ◞ ♯ tuna cans.

"can you close your eyes, remember the flowers for me?" — this was home, until it wasn't. until it was a barren land of flesh, blood, and fear. they said to just survive, but what does that mean? to walk a life of tears and loss? never knowing if the next day will be your last? it's the end of the world, though the start of yours. yours and satoru's. WARNING. walking dead in the vicinity, proceed with caution: zombie apocalypse!au. dead dove, do not eat. gore, blood, death, angst, depictions of violence + murder. eventual smut (afab!reader), slow burn. more to come.

chapter summary — there are eight billion people on earth. no, was. there was eight billion people on earth. now? you're not sure. is there half the amount? even less? the walkers don't count, by the way. in any case, you're one of them — a survivor. where does that leave you? alone. or, that's what you'd thought, at least.

› series m.list. — ask to get tagged! › my m.list.

it hasn’t been long, actually. you can count the months on one hand. every single moment, every single whisper of that time is etched in your memory, down to the last minute. but where does all that remembering get you? nowhere, not really.

it doesn’t help to recall the very first screams. the trampling of people, desperate to get out, get away — as if there were anywhere safe to run to.

the world feels dull now. lifeless, literally. the sun is a rarity, no longer peeking out from behind the clouds like it used to. it’s as if the world has surrendered to the cruelty of it all, like it’s lost faith in the need for light. today is one of those days: tired and melancholic.

your feet drag on the concrete, hands shoved deep in your pockets. the streets are quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind or the crunch of leaves beneath your worn shoes.

you know where you’re going; it’s a familiar path, one you don’t even need to think about. you could walk there with your eyes closed — to that dim-lit convenience store seven blocks down.

it’s always been a sad building, even before. now? now… it’s pathetic. paint peels from the edges of the walls, and thick vines clumsily wrap around the sides.

the first thing that hits you is the smell of rust; heavy, metallic, and bloody. dust coats the dull metal shelves, cobwebs decorating the forgotten cans of food. grabbing a dented cart, you toss in whatever looks remotely edible.

anything to postpone the next visit. you hate leaving the house, if you can even call it that. it’s more like a hut, a ground-level treehouse. secluded, kind of. not too deep in the woods, but just far enough to avoid them. the walkers. zombies, informally, you suppose.

god, they’re disgusting. horrid to look at. a sickly pale, with skin that seems to… droop where it’s barely attached. oh, and the smell is less than pleasant.

you can’t believe they used to be people. with lives, and homes. family and friends, a job. now they’re just… well, nothing. not quite alive, not quite dead. stuck in a sad limbo.

you made a list, if you remember correctly. shoved somewhere in your pocket, probably crumpled. can’t find it now, shit. what was even on it? squinting your eyes, you pinch your temple, like blurring your vision would somehow help you recall.

cereal. without milk, unfortunately. that went bad in the very beginning, thanks to no electricity for the fridges. that reminds you; milk powder had been scribbled down. uh, salt, right? wait, did you already have some left? oh, what did it matter? it was all free now, anyway.

rice. hard liquor. not for drinking, but for disinfecting. well, maybe also for drinking. you’re about to check the expiry dates on the dusty chocolates when you hear a not-so-quiet clang. freezing, you instinctively feel around for your pocket knife.

it’s futile. there’s no way you left it. no, that’s crazy. you’re not that irresponsible.

and yet, it seems you just might be.

instead, you arm yourself with the nearest thing — a sticky (?) can of tuna. not preferable, but it’s better than nothing. at least, that’s what you tell yourself, trying to mentally calculate how hard you could throw this thing. or how far. or both.

“who’s there?” you ask, your voice shakier than you’d like. you don’t wait for an answer, instead chucking the can the second you see a shock of white hair. whoever it is ducks, letting out a surprised, almost offended, “hey!”

and then you catch their, his, eyes, bright, bright blue. no rotting flesh. no stench. normal, human, real. “oh, my god,” you breathe out, the tension leaving your shoulders.

throwing his hands up, he exclaims, “you could’ve killed me!” his head bobs with shock, his white hair tousling with the movement.

“sorry. i— well, i thought you were one of them.”

“oh. no, no, i’m not.” he looks at you, really looks at you, taking a cautious step back from his initial mild anger. the man tilts his head, studying you. “haven’t seen you around.”

“um, i live—” you pause. wait, maybe you shouldn’t tell him where you live just yet, considering you don’t even know his name. “never mind. i haven’t seen you around either. didn’t even know there were other people here.”

he runs a hand through his snowy locks, giving you a small, almost sheepish shrug. “me n’ my friends aren’t too far from here.”

your eyebrows shoot up, just slightly. “t— there’s more of you? in this area? you’re kidding.”

“afraid not, babe. gojo, by the way,” he adds after a moment, extending a hand. “satoru gojo. survivors gotta stick together, right?”

you hesitate, eyeing his outstretched hand. you don’t know this satoru gojo. he’s a stranger. can you really trust him more than any of the walkers?

but another thought, a desperate craving for human interaction, pleads with you to respond. and before you know it, you’re blurting out your own name, taking his hands in yours.

you don't mean to notice, but they're softer than you expected, somewhat calloused. the closer you get, the more you can notice the smell of his cologne. cheap cologne.

not bad smelling, however, with hints of pinewood, musk, and the subtle tone of sweat. odd, because the gold chain around his neck seems to scream the opposite.

when he flexes his arms, you can see the fabric of his sleeves squeeze his biceps. he has very nice biceps.

not that you mean to notice.

“pretty name,” gojo hums, a grin spreading across his face, “for a pretty girl. say, is this pretty girl all by herself out here?”

was he flirting with you? in the middle of the zombie apocalypse? “…yeah. yeah, i guess so.” your nervous fidgeting stills, and you grip the handle of the shopping cart, your gaze drifting over the faded white letters reading “gas-mart,” stark against the fading red background.

he blinks, his bright blue eyes searching yours. “no family? friends?”

you blow out a shaky breath. “nope.” sensing the shift in the air, the newer tension, he stops there, smoothly changing the topic.

“well, pretty, you could always come back with me. my friends and i, we got a place. it’s not too shabby, but it’s… home.”

your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. you don’t know him, though. nor his intentions. taking a half-step back, you shake your head, pushing the cart slowly past him.

oddly enough, it pains you to leave him standing there, but what choice do you have? go with a complete stranger? as easy on the eyes as he is, that’s a hard no.

“pass. thanks, though. stay safe out there.” short, curt, to the point.

before he can even say, “you, too,” you’re gone, leaving him behind in the dusty aisle.

the entire walk home, you repeat to yourself that it was the right thing to do.

› (8/50) — @jeonwiixard, @mia-can-yap-too, @kentoslvr, @eolivy, @wunerie, @shokocide, @suckkuna, @sadmonke.

[positively-mine]

You’re a girl?!

how the twst boys find out you’re a girl & their reactions

tags: afab, accidental touches

a/n: very much self indulgent BUT I COUNDNT STOP THINKING 🤔 what if because it was a boys school that they didn’t have skirts and basically Crowley just made you wear the uniform & you didn't tell anyone. Like epel and lilia’s case, they just thought you were a feminine guy (p.s I just started and I haven’t read any spoilers, except for some info from reddit so I’m very sorry if this has already been covered/ revealed) very gacha coded but PLSSSSS bear this brain rot with me

Some spoilers: until book 3

Series: ❤️ 🧡 🩵 💛 💜 💙 💚

Ace

This can go two ways. Firstly, is that he was chasing deuce or Grimm around and you happen to be walking around the corner. And BAM. You’re both on the ground with him on top of you, caging you into his arms. With both his hands conveniently placed on two lumps on your chest. It takes him a good 3 seconds of staring and squeezing before he realises what they are. What you are. Immediately feels embarrassed and starts screaming and scarmbling to get up.

Orrr he has gotten so used to coming into ramshackle house as he pleases and barges into your room without knocking. You’re both guys, so what’s the problem? Big mistake. Because you’re changing and literally only in your under garments. He’s all red and hot faced before he’s running out of your room and the house into the walkway to calm himself down.

The next time he faces you, he’s apologising while avoiding eye contact. He knows you’ve been through thick and thin together but it really did feel as though his whole world view was shattered when he found out. When he’s hanging out with you, he’s much more careful of where he places his hand and tries to look out for you. Definitely tried to act more manly as well, like when there's an overblot about to happen he either pushes you behind him or blocks you with his body..

Deuce

The way i see this going down is that he’s got his gangster mode on from whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into (or for convenience sake; the broken eggs in book 1). And he’s trying to push you away to stop you from stopping HIM from picking a fight. And something soft hits his forearm. He turns to look at you chest before he quickly realises. He’s screaming like a banshee while moving as far away as he can from you. The initial quarrel was forgotten and now his head is spinning. Thoughts like “what would my mother think if she knew what i did??”, “HES A GIRL?! I MEAN SHE” and so on. The walk back to the kitchen is so quiet that you could basically hear Grimm’s grumbling all the way from Heartsbyul kitchen. Once you arrived back at the kitchen, the guys are wondering why its so quiet between you two but pay no mind to it.

He gets awkward around you every once in a while when realises how close the two of you are but still tries to make up for it. Also becomes more diligent in trying to withhold his gangster personality. He doesn’t want to show anymore of his nasty side to you when he can show you how well he can treat you. Lest he wants to lose you to some other guys…

Trey

This one's tough. I don't know if he has sisters so let's just say that he has. He's one of the first few to realize that you're a girl, being the ever observant person that he is. He sees the pattern when you start getting a little bit more emotional than you are. Snapping at Adeuce and Grimm when you're usually much more patient, getting upset at small things or when he catches you tearing up when you talk about returning to your own world. Yeah he definitely knows.

So it's no surprise when you start to receive more baked treats from him and he's piling up all sorts of nutritious food onto your plate when you sit together. The others are wondering why he's doing that when you're capable of doing it yourself. It's only after several months of this treatment that you realize he knows that you're a girl. And when you confront him about it, "I can't help but want to take care of you when I see you".

Riddle

I like to think that you’re having tea together. He’s invited you to another one of their dorm’s many reason to have tea. Grimm and Ace are fighting for the last cookie and accidentally knock into you as you pick up your teacup. Splashing the liquid all over your dress shirt. Riddle is of course, furious. Rule #363, never spill your tea. Especially on a Tuesday. He’s screaming at them both when his eyes move to check if you’re okay. And that’s when he sees some blue peeking out at the wet area of your shirt. It takes him a quick second to march over to you and drape his blazer over you. “You should go back and change. Make sure to take a warm bath unless you want to catch a cold.” You nod at him confusedly. He watches as you make your way down the steps. He turns to the rest of the members with pink tinted cheeks. “Unfortunately this tea party will have to be cancelled,” and he quickly turns back to walk to his dorm before anyone can say anything.

The next time you see him, his cheeks are tinted pink and he’s trying very hard to not make eye contact with you. Overall, most of your relationship stays the same except that he’s inviting you over for tea more often. But this time its just the two of you. And his excuse? It changes every time. Sometimes its because he says he wants to talk about Adeuce and Grimm’s behaviour, and sometimes it’s because he wants your thoughts on which tea set is better.

Cater

For his case, it's not that he found out, rather he overheard it from a rowdy pair of first years and a cat. He was walking to his next class and about to turn around the corner when he overheard their not so very hushed conversation. His eyes widen very similarly to the saucers that they use for tea. He's kind of upset that he didn't find out himself, but learned it through someone else. Oh well. It's a win-win situation for him anyways.

So when he starts being much more clingier to you and offering to walk you to your classes do you start to get suspicious. He’s always coming over to sit together at your table and visiting you at Ramshackle more. Lounging on the beaten up sofa while you do whatever work you have to. Keeping you company for as long as he can. Or at least until Riddle calls him back or you kick him out. Whichever comes first.

Now imagine there’s a celebration of some sort and he’s excitedly running up the steps to Ramshackle to formally invite you as his date. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he smiles cheekily. And from behind him he pulls out a beautiful dress. “Will you be my date?” No misunderstanding his gestures now.

reblogs appreciated!

[what-aboutno]

An analysis on c!Owen and his behaviour throughout the Outsiders SMP series!

Some disclaimers before I go into this. There will be spoilers up ahead! I would like to warn anyone reading that this post will mention some blacklisted members from the smp because their characters play a role in showing us about cOwen.

For convenience, all the members mentioned are the characters, not the actual ccs themself. Some of this might seem all over the place, but when the characters learn random parts of themselves at different points it's bound to happen.

Owen has changed a lot as the series has progressed and many find his personality to have changed entirely towards the end, however, this isn’t really the case. When we go over his character, we can see his core values have stuck with him throughout the series, so in this post, I will go over how exactly he has changed over time and his character in general.

To make it easier, I’m gonna split it into 3 parts. Early maze days, the introduction of clearing 2, and post memories.

During the early maze days Owen establishes his character very early on. Right from the beginning, Owen arrives with the demon Rasbi. They are notably one of the three pairs that come up, with most coming up the elevator alone. The first time we see him, Owen immediately takes up a role as a protector, asking if Rasbi knows how to fight in case there is danger up ahead.

In this first section, we can also see that he acts a lot more childish and naive. He’s very emotional and easily upset by his past. He can be seen jumping on rocks with Mohwee and the others and crying on his first night over his loss of memories. The overwhelmingness of the clearing gets to him. This isn’t to say he is some weak, stupid or soft character though. 

Owen may be naive in believing things should be played in certain ways according to his rules but there are many instances where we can see he’s not stupid. First episode he can immediately recognise what knife Oeca is holding “Hey that’s a throwing knife right? No that’s a dagger” 

After getting more settled in the maze he asks about the maze’s agriculture, he mentions everyone is unarmed despite fearing the dangers in the maze. He starts asking about protection, armour, shields and notably, “So this place is safe on the inside? It's safe to walk at night?” He’s already worried for everyone’s safety here, he knows the maze is dangerous so is there anywhere that’s safe? 

Very early on his past also becomes a very important aspect of his personality. He is probably one of the first to remember anything significant about his past. By episode 2 he is getting flashbacks about how to make a bow. But he makes a javelin first, noting “I think I was a hunter. No, I was an archer. I was a hunter. I was a soldier? I was good at this.” He then proceeds to aim the javelin at Oeca’s name, because at this point he can’t fully trust Ocea. He is very quick to violence, although he doesn't want Oeca dead, he certainly can’t trust in him. 

Another important note is that Mohwee is one of the people in the clearing he respected and saw as someone with the ability to act. Which is why we get this interaction where Mohwee calls out “Owen.” and Owen replies with “yes sir”. His past even without his memories is important and ingrained enough he still acts like this, and this only continues as we go through this section.

The first time they go in the maze as a group is when Apo arrives. This is a very important moment for Owen because their first trip in the maze solidifies his personality throughout this section and maybe even the series. Oeca is shot because Mohwee was careless and brought anyone in. When the group comes back, Owen asks Graecie, “How many entrances are there to this maze?” After finding out this is the only one that opens, he refuses to let anyone get hurt again and starts blocking it off.

Trust and promises are very important to Owen here too because it's one of the key reasons he blocks off the entrance. It’s not just Oeca getting hurt, it’s the fact he promised Graecie he wouldn't go in. “I broke my promise.” He also takes Apo’s word very seriously in the mine when he tells Owen he didn’t pull the lever. Also because of this he only trusts himself to go in the maze.

When the entrance is blocked off Owen is quick to violence and threatens people if they try to get past him. After finding the old battle axe he starts using it to threaten and intimidate people. “Anyone who goes past this (the gate) i will attack”

“Anyone else that will, I will just cut down” are some of the things he says. He punches Mohwee for trying to get past him. When Oeca comes back after Mohwee’s disappearance, Owen follows him with that battle axe trying to talk.

Owen then goes on to say “I’m not looking for violence” and “I'm not collecting weapons this was instinctual (points at bow)” he doesn't want people to think he’s dangerous and he knows people are scared of him.

Even if he seems aggressive he still wants to protect others. Owen goes back in the maze to look for Mohwee after he randomly disappears on their way back. “My job is to protect people and I will do that to the best of my abilities. At every possible stage”

When Mohwee disappears Owen takes a massive risk to stay in the maze overnight to see if the gates would open. “The only thing I remember about my life Graecie, is that I was raised to protect people. That's all I remember. And I know it was dumb and stupid to go in the maze but if it got us a step closer to finding Mohwee. I was willing to make that risk”

So we’ve established that Owen cares about the people in the clearing even if he doesn't trust all of them, he wants to protect them and he will do it no matter what. It's the purpose he has given himself in order to be useful.

He knows it doesn’t work how he wants it to. People are scared and wary of Owen’s protection. There are multiple instances where he tells his voices, “They don’t get it,” because he knows people don’t trust his methods. His method of control is disliked by a lot of people. 

Ori is one of the main characters to go against Owen. Owen hates this because not only does it risk the safety of others but it goes against his main purpose he gave himself. He takes this job very seriously. So when Ori goes in the maze it’s no wonder Owen becomes very violent.

“Ori I'm seriously sorry I will break your legs and I'm very close to it. Are you gonna make me. “

He doesn’t see himself to be super aggressive though “People think I'm being really aggressive when I talk like ‘oh hey if you come near me I'm gonna break your legs’ but I'm saying it in the most friendly way I can, you understand that right? I'm not trying to be aggressive with that”

“I'm saying like if you do step in here I will have to break your legs. In like a very gentle and I'm very sorry I hate to inconvenience you but I do have to break your legs.”

When Ori sneaks into the maze, Owen talks a lot about his purpose. Things like “Don't, I'll fail them. They'll kill me. My entire purpose here is to stay by this door and stop you from coming in.”

Owen hates to know he is failing the purpose he has given to himself “When I discovered I was a soldier that's what I set myself to (protecting others) but what do I have to show for myself? I have tried my hardest to protect these people. And get they look at me and tell me I'm a tyrant” “you're not in control, who are you to say what happens?”

He would do anything, even if it meant sacrificing himself. As shown before when Mohwee disappears but also as he protects the gate after the second lever gets pulled he says “I'm going to protect them if I die in the process so be it”  

Another note before this section ends is that it’s not just Ori who opposes Owen. Sillvia also talks about Owen’s method of leadership.

Sillvia about Owen: Owen I think you would be great. If not for the fact that you have a militaristic mindset. I don't want to see your leadership spiral into a place where Apo wants. Owen I fear you and I want you to know that. I actually fear you and I don't say that about many people. And ruling should not be through fear. You are a terrifying individual and to see you be in a position of power would be a slope we cannot afford or gamble slipping down. We've seen you tussle with Ori. I know you're a strong individual. You could lead us quite well but it's the risk that comes with your leadership that I am not willing to risk. 

The perception Owen has of himself differs from how he comes off. It becomes more of an issue later but we can already see this happen. 

So as clearing 2 is introduced this is what we know about Owen. He was a soldier once, he wanted to protect people in the clearing even if it meant sacrificing himself. He’s nice to others but his methods are still aggressive and violent, ready to hold a weapon to someone if needed and Owen cares a lot about trust. 

With the introduction of clearing 2 we can see how Owen changes and develops. He’s very cautious of clearing 2 members because for all he knows they could have led the creature that destroyed half their clearing in on purpose. 

Owen also faces betrayal from Apo. We know trust is something Owen values a lot. It’s mentioned in the early days, and it’s a major part of why he feels so strongly about Apo lying. During the scene where Owen faces Apo after finding he pulled the lever that killed the second clearing, his main issue with Apo isn’t the fact that he killed people. It was the fact he lied to him.

“You lied to me. Why did you do it? No no no I don't care about the lever. Apo why did you lie to me? You're my friend I trusted you. I stayed there. I held your back when oeca said it was you. I put my name on the line. Because we stood together in the mine and I asked you to swear to my face that you didn't do it. And you lied to me. Im meant to be your friend and you lied.” 

You can also see what Owen values in a person when they discuss Apo’s punishment and Owen says there's 3 main things he did

- went into maze without group consent

- pulled the lever

- he lied

Owen only adds on at the end that he left Squidney.

With all of this too we see Owen for the first time back away from the job he gave himself. He backs away from leadership, we start to see how tired Owen is from the stress of it all. His reasoning has to do with his trust being broken.

“What's the point they're all liars. This entire place is filled with filthy liars. Every single person. All I've ever done is tried to protect them”

“Forget it. I'm done. I'm don't helping people. No I'm not villain, I'm not a hero I'm nothing.

From now on there is no leader of the maze. They put me in charge. My word means nothing to them I'm done.”

“How am I meant to protect them when I try and stop them with physical force im made out to be some kind of monster. When I try to reason with them I'm made out to be soft.”  

Owen being viewed as soft has always been something he’s aware of. People tend to think because he’s kind that they can do whatever they want (sneak into the maze etc) and this perception Owen is a soft person develops. Even if he’s emotional and kind we’ve seen before in early maze days he is not soft. 

Owen tries to ignore all his problems but with it he grows more aggressive than before. His tone changes when he speaks about other people to his voices.

“To visit him would be to acknowledge he exists. And right now the last thing I want to do is consider the fact that this thing lives and breathes and eats and sleeps under my feet. The sooner he wastes away and fades into nothingness the better. I don't see a life going forward with him in it” - Owen about Apo

“The more I look around these stupid 4 walls the more I'm reminded that he that. That I trusted him.”

"he's everywhere. It's like a disease. Like it festers. The outside looks fine and you look just below the surface and it's rotting vile and it's him”

Apo: Just give me a chance.

Owen: why should I? So you can have another tick to the long list of times Owen has naively believed there is some good in the people that infests this clearing? Oeca, mohwee, Bekyamon, Magic, Graecie, Ori, you, liars. All of you.

I’m not just putting quotes here just for you to see oh trust is important! But more so for you to see that Owen changes when his trust has been broken or when he sees someone as a threat. Some of these things sound very similar to what Owen would say when he gets his memories back. Because to Owen trust and protection are 2 very important values. When that is broken he can’t be certain someone isn’t a threat. 

With this change Owen does become more aware he isn’t the most approachable person due to his methods. I do want to bring up this quote first though 

"Can I kill someone? Ive been thinking about this recently I say I'm a soldier. But I've never actually killed anyone. All my life in these 4 walls I've spoken about security and fighting and I can't remember a time I've actually taken someone's life. What if I have to. What if it comes to that I don't think I could stomach it either. I doesn't feel like me. It's not me it's not who I am. No I can't. I'll only attack this person if they do something first. And even then I'll just aim to incapacitate" - Owen about Ash

This is an interesting quote from Owen knowing his later actions but it’s not that out of character. If we look at every flashback he’s had so far we can see the life of a soldier is not one he’s always wanted.

Owen to his dad: What if I'm not ready to be your protector? No It's what you've always wanted! What if I wanted to do something else? What if I don't want to be a soldier what about me when do I get to look out for myself.

However he is always ready to attack if he needs to, if it comes to it he would do anything to protect someone. I think that means to kill even if Owen doesn’t think so at this point. 

His notebook btw

Another note about his behavior is that because of how others view him he almost dies from the creature’s venom. Ayngel even said before Owen is more angry. Other people even though it sounds jokingly say Owen gets grumpy when people disrupt him, leading to no one but Soup to check up on him when he gets stung.

When Bek comes back he doesn’t hesitate to do the things he did before. He does what he thinks is right and protects Magic by aiming a javelin at Bek. He says he’s not violent but anytime he feels like he’s in danger he pulls out a weapon. He did it when he was in Soup’s basement, he does it anytime he hears about someone potetially harming Rasbi, and he did it when he heard Oeca attacked Graecie. 

Owen in general is a fighter at heart. Even if he says he doesn’t want to kill anyone he is still ready to attack. 

Owen: this isn't you Ori. You fight. That's what you do.

Ori: what are you talking about?

Owen: you fight people. When you don't get your way you fight. You and I are the same

At the end of this section, the group decides not to go back in the maze. They had lost Squidney, Oeca, Mohwee, with the presumption that Red, Apo and Graecie were either dead or dying. Owen is tired of it all “Every Time I've tried to protect someone they've ended dead Kyle” he tries to hope but he is so tired. This tiredness also explains some things that happen when he gets his memory back. 

So to summarise before looking at Owen when he gets his memories back, this is what we know about Owen. He wants to protect his friends, he believes in trust a lot, he is both seen as more aggressive and angry these days and soft at the same time, he wants to be a good leader but other people don’t listen. Not much has changed since the early maze days, but it’s a more solid character now. 

When the reunion comes around Owen in the story has finally had a moment to think about everything that happened between him and Apo. His main regret in the series was how he treated him even if he broke his trust. 

Owen loves to contradict himself a lot but it’s a very human trait he has. He has complex feelings about Apo, and Beks and a lot of people. Yet he’ll still offer his protection to them. It’s because of this the ‘sudden’ shift in personality he has becomes very shocking to the audience. 

Since right before he sees Apo, Owen is very emotional here. Very similar to how he was in the early maze days. It’s out of his character to hope for something like seeing Apo because he knows it’s very unlikely he’ll see him again. However he gives himself this hope, one more chance. 

When Owen regains his memories the tone shift is obvious. He acts less emotional, he seems more mature. But we do need to consider this is someone who just had a lifetime of memories shoved back in his head and his core values are so strong that Owen doesn’t hesitate to act the way he used to. 

There’s lots of similarities to Owen here to the one we’ve known. Like his purpose. He sets one for himself immediately after arriving in the clearing. Even as he talks to Apo about his past he talks about his purpose

“I had a purpose once. I was useful, vital, adored. And suddenly everything changed. The world grew tired of blood shed. When all you're good for is violence, when you've been breed into a killing machine, a nation of peace will toss you aside like a spent torch”

There’s an obvious difference here right? The man we’ve watched in the maze who wanted to protect his friends just killed his best friend. This is definitely a different person right? Yes and no. Owen hasn’t changed that much, and I'll explain why after we go through some more things. But it’s important to note that this isn’t a completely new person, this isn’t something that is unexpected when we go through the information we already have about Owen. 

“I know what you are, you are everything wrong in the world has to offer. You are the amalgamation of all the gluttony and lust of humans with the evil and cunning of demons. You stand as a testament to everything vile. You are a disease on the face of this earth and I am it's curse” 

Apo: this isn't you you've changed 

Owen: incorrect, this is me. The man you manipulated and lied was nothing more than a puppet driven by the instinct to survive. 

Owen wants protection for his friends. He goes to extreme lengths to keep people safe, so when he remembers demons as this evil creature that will hurt people for their own gain he wasn’t going to stand around and do nothing right? 

Surprising or not this is very in character for Owen if we look at everything else we have from the series. To him, he is still doing his job, the one he’s done since day 1 in the clearing. Just now the threat isn’t just the maze and the occasional person, it’s demons. 

The way Owen became a demon hunter is essential too. He used to live in comfort, and based on past flashbacks he was training to be a soldier even if he didn’t fully enjoy it. His mother was a poet and his father was a general. He had grown up hearing all about how terrible demons are, and he didn’t understand until his village had been burned down.

One negative interaction with demons had put this deep hatred in his heart for them. Before his memories returned he was ready to forgive Apo, he knew he wasn’t as dangerous as he made him out to be. But when the sudden influx of memory comes, he has this past knowledge that Apo is a threat. 

Since Apo had hurt Owen before this only adds to it. Remember Owen really values trust. Apo has broken that trust in the past, so everything combined and letting go of the final restriction it’s no wonder he kills Apo. 

Despite this ‘massive personality change’ Owen has, when he returns to the clearing he still makes sure Magic is safe. He doesn't tell people about the lava rising so he wouldn’t cause panic. He still cares about these people. 

But Owen starts to view all the demons as a threat, every demon in the clearing has done something to suggest they could be dangerous. The reason Owen kills Guts is because they poisoned the food at the feast, which led to Magic being poisoned. He carries out this duty for protection

I think another thing people tend to forget about Owen is that he's been slowly breaking apart trying to fit what others want from him as seen in the last section. And it took a major toll on him. His outburst at Magic is one of the ways shown to us how much stress he’s been under. Perhaps even guilt he’s been feeling.

Magic: if you don't you're just putting everyone danger by not leading us… in there…

Owen: danger? You want to talk about putting others in danger? All of this coming from who exactly? The woman who's clearing burnt down under her leadership? The woman who lied about that previous position of leadership as she lacked the spine to correct her friend when she lied? The woman who was tied up and left for dead by that same friend? The woman who swore to protect a stranger only to them shot down in front of her? What the woman who stood still as her friend was ripped apart beside her? Oh yeah the magnitude of your failures Magic is deafening. Do you hear it? When you fall asleep at night, do you hear the screams of the dead who's blood stain your hands? How do you cope? When you find out be a good friend and let me know would you? Been looking for a way to shut them up. 

Owen does try to justify his actions to his voices even if they don’t listen. He knows people here aren’t good. He’s known this since clearing 2 was introduced, but with his memories back he feels like he has to carry on this duty by killing the threat. That’s the only way to keep people in the clearing safe right?

Owen to voices: have you stopped to think why I'm doing this? You seem so attached to these creatures, why? What good have they done? These people aren't good people. None of us good people. We're all in here for a reason. Just because you haven't taken your rose tinted glasses off to see that doesn't mean the rest of us haven't. 

Like before he won’t let anything stop him, even if it means hurting a few people. He doesn't hesitate to pull out a weapon when he hears Ayngel might know him. He can’t risk anything ruining his plans because he can’t afford to. He’s so tired. I think at this point anyone that was a major threat to him he would kill. 

Ayngel: I feel like I recognise you. You and your face from somewhere 

Owen: oh? (Starts to pull out knife from his bag)

Ayngel: I've been having this thought and it's got me thinking (Owen pulls out a knife in case)

Ayngel: actually, honestly forget it. It's all a dream and I'm overthinking

The only exception to his thinking is Rasbi. Rasbi actually hasn’t done anything wrong to him personally. She’s one of the few people that didn’t break his trust but he still kills her. Why? 

First off he doesn’t see her as the friend he wanted to protect but instead as something he protected only to kill in the end to fulfil his duty. Her sister is the reason why he ended up in the maze, so even without Rasbi directly harming Owen in any way it’s enough for Owen to kill her. I’m sure any small mistake or detail would have led Owen to killing any demon, because it only proves his thinking. 

Owen barely survives after Rasbi attacks him. So as Owen starts planning how to kill Krow he starts going a bit insane. His room is a mess, his mind is a mess and he can barely stand it anymore. We really start to see him fall apart here

Owen: this yolk is a burden is a burden I can't carry for much longer. I'm tired. I want to rest. But I took a pact, I made a promise. A glorious death is his for who his country falls and either I or they thing will have to die before I stop. 

Something that’s brought up when discussing the idea of ‘Maze Owen’ is the fact that we can see ‘glimpses’ of him in different interactions. For example when Owen and Krow go out into the maze and Owen spots Puddy he makes sure Puddy doesn’t die by keeping him away. Even if he’s aggressive in the scene the fandom interpretation is the care he has for Puddy as ‘Maze Owen’ slipped through. But It’s not out of character for him to still show care for people after his memories are returned based on everything we’ve seen.

Before ‘killing’ off Krow, Owen does say this “There's no escaping who you are” Which is really interesting since most characters he’s interacted with will tell him in the maze you can escape who you used to be. Owen knows for a fact no matter what he does in life now he will never have anything outside the maze. Because the world doesn’t need him anymore. He kills the demons as his final act of service to the world because he has nothing else to offer. 

When Krow finally comes back and Owen gets hit in the head he says to the rest of the group “I was protecting you all.” and “You don't know what they're like! You haven't seen the outside world.”

Looking at his final moments we see that everyone that Owen has cared about doesn’t trust him anymore. They don’t believe his protection was needed. He’s told that he will not get out of this cell. He’s left alone in the silence of the cell. Finally with the time to think. He starts experiencing multiple flashbacks and it makes it hard for him to think. 

We’ve seen in the past how Owen deals with multiple flashbacks. It gives him a headache or causes him pain in some cases. He also becomes really emotional afterwards. This follows the same case. Except he starts to realize some things.

Krow: I know those eyes. That glint of desperation for approval but knowing it's never coming. We're more similar than you let yourself believe you and I

(Flash back ‘i was an archer.?’ ‘i was a hunter?’ I was a soldier)

“I was a tool. Used.”

He knows he’s going to die soon and he starts to panic. The most important line he says is 

“So what now? This is it!? I deserve to die in battle. I killed them. It was what I. Its just what I was meant to do. I was trained. Should i have? I should have. I should have. I can't think inside my head, it's split in two” 

“So what voices? What was I before then huh? Was that me? Is that who people trust? People trust that one. Old Owen. Yes? It wasn't me. That wasn't me” flashback about Apo first coming up

“I can't think. I can't. They trusted him. They trusted him but not me? My head…”

After this he pleads with Magic to let him out. Owen claims “I hurt them, I hurt my friends. Rasbi, Guts. And Apo, Krow I don't know why I did those things” He pleads and cries. And he's desperate

Owen: “No magic it's me please.” 

Magic: “You kill people owen”

Owen: “It wasn't me I'm sorry. I just wanted to keep people safe.” 

Owen: “Magic please don't go… no… magic. You can't do this.”

Magic: “I can and I am” 

I think when we look at these final clips there’s a very important thing happening. Owen is separating himself from the past. He can’t understand why his friends don’t trust him. Even though nothing has changed. To him his eyes have been opened to the dangers of demons and he fulfilled his purpose. 

Why does this separation even happen? This is where we move to the final part of this long analysis and look at theories. There’s no way I can say for sure this is right or this is wrong. I can only tell you what I think based on the material already there. 

So before I go into this I have to emphasize I am not saying you can't refer to earlier Owen as maze Owen to explain Owen at different periods of his life. I'm saying when we really look at it, maze Owen doesn't exist since they're the same person. 

So what am I talking about? The concept of ‘maze’ Owen has been around for a long time. Even ccOwen talks about his character like that. The idea that just because Owen didn’t have his memories that he was some sweet, soft guy that needs to be babied is something that affects a lot on how you view him as a character. 

'maze' Owen doesn't actually exist because it's a way that Owen has come up with to justify to himself how he could have cared for demons without shattering his ideals. This is confused with Owen have distinct personalities and missing how he hasn't strayed from his ideals since the start with his idea of protecting everyone.

To separate that period of Owen's life in the maze ignores the fact that the characteristics you see in Owen post reunion are the same from before but taken to the extreme.

He's always been capable of ‘evil’'. It's the same as every other character in the series. We don't separate them like we do with Owen. Every character in the series is inherently morally gray, they do things out of desperation to survive. You can never say someone is 100% good or bad. 

Owen’s same mindset of 'I need to protect the people I care about because they're in danger now' carries through. After the reunion in his head demons are no longer part of that group he wants to protect. 

The separation of 'maze' and post reunion Owen forgets even in the post memory phase he had the ability to love like 'maze' Owen had. He released Puddy, he started a small farm, he started to relax. It's all part of him.

In his final moments he says a few important things to note. The first being "I was a tool. I was trained. Should I have... I should have." And then right after "I can't think in my head it's split in two"

It seems some take this as 'maze' Owen coming back and fighting with Owen on should he have killed Apo and the others. However rather than 'maze' Owen coming back i think it's this internal conflict he has with himself and his ideals.

Before he says this he's getting flashbacks to the early maze days where he showed kindness to demons. Something he would never let himself do in the past outside the maze. And something he would never do after he remembers it all.

Then he says to the voices "Is that who people trust? Old Owen" while those memories are playing. The voices respond saying they miss that Owen and he replies "Yes? That wasn't me" this is possibly where it further adds to the whole 'maze' Owen is a different person thing.

Rather than facing the fact that his thinking doesn’t make sense anymore he separates himself from those memories. As soon as Owen accepts that demons are not these creatures that betray and kill you at any moment, his life has no purpose.

Owen’s thinking comes from the manipulation and propaganda he's been fed. In his final episode we get these quotes which show just how much his thinking revolves around protection and also showing what years of training did to him.

He understands he was a tool that was used. He's well aware everything he is doing may not have a purpose and yet he still plays this part. He can't break away from that thinking because if he lets himself, Owen has to face the fact that his whole life had no true meaning.

That is a terrifying thing to do. He has been in this environment for so long you can’t just take him out of it. 

Going over everything you can access in Owen’s pov, we know that before gaining his memories Owen is a person that cares deeply about his friends, he risks himself to protect them, he won’t hesitate to hold a weapon against someone he sees as a threat. Owen thinks trust is an important value to have, he takes it very seriously. But we also know that not everyone likes Owen and his leadership. He’s seen with a military mindset, people don’t want to upset him and it nearly costs his life.

Now let’s compare that with the Owen we get to know after his memories return. He wants to protect the people he deeply cares about, he risks himself to protect them, he doesn’t hesitate to hold a weapon against someone that he sees as a threat, only now the threat is demons. When we start looking at these differences, yes, Owen when he regains his memories is different, his tone changes, he murders people. But those core values we’ve seen throughout the series stay with him.

It’s one of the reasons why Owen can’t understand why no one in the clearing is on his side. He protected them against the threat they didn't know about. That is his purpose, and that’s what he’s good for. Remember right at the beginning of the series Owen sets his purpose to protect these people, now this is still the same. He views demons as a threat because he hasn’t had good experiences with them. Even if Apo became his friend in the clearing, Apo ends up lying to Owen, and betraying his trust. Guts became his friend but Guts tried to poison Magic. Owen has never fully trusted Krow and that distrust only furthers once he knows what Krow is capable of based on his experiences with demons.

So let’s go back to the previous question: who was it there? You’re probably thinking well how do you explain maze Owen and the chips. ccOwen has mentioned before that it's a possibility for the chips to alter memories. Maybe Starr suppressed those memories and maze Owen was there again. Or he was hit hard on the head right? Maybe his chip was damaged and it altered his emotions and memory.

There is too little known information to us as an audience about the chips in their head. We know they can supposedly make the outsiders lose track of time, alter their memories, their emotions and change how they act. But if the chips in their head is the explanation for everything then why does Owen remember killing his friends when he talks to Magic? He says it like he wasn't the one doing it, like he watched someone else do it. How do you explain his behaviour then? If the damaged chip really made him act like that then why do flashbacks still occur when he's in prison? He seems to have no control over those, so the chip must still work fine?

I think when we look at his character the maze has already changed him whether he likes it or not. There’s more doubt in him than before. He lets Apo go with extra time. He hesitated before he ran after him. No matter how small, he has changed.

But when Owen talks about himself in the past he makes this separation. The voices in his head won't stop calling for the guy they used to know, even though he's right here. I think Owen doesn't even want to acknowledge at one point he was friends with the demons he hated so much. 

In that prison cell all his ideals and values are facing him. Everything he's done and he's known has been a lie. I think he knows this but can't bring himself to acknowledge that. Would you admit what you thought for your entire life was wrong? That you killed countless for nothing?

When faced with death Owen becomes desperate. Which I think explains his behaviour with Magic. That is his last hope and he knows people like the older version of him. I don't think he's fully lying though when he says i don't know why I did those things. Not because maze Owen came back or anything but because in the maze he no longer has this duty but he still carries it out. He's so tired from it all and he wants to leave it behind but he can't.

So let's go over his death scene one more time. “My head it's split in two” I think the explanation for this is that he was just hit with a bunch of flashbacks of his first days. Right before this he also says ‘I was a tool. Used’ I believe in his final moments where he has a moment to think he starts to fight himself. Should he have done all this for a country that throws him away the second he's useless? He was trained to do this. But should he have really? That's what I think is making him say my head it's split in two. He's fighting his own views and alongside these positive memories it makes him confused. And overwhelmed.

It's important to note Owen doesn't have a single bad flashback about Apo and Rasbi. He doesn't think about the levers, he thinks about his friends that he met. That he protected.

The more flashbacks he gets the more defensive he becomes. “I'm right here you can't convince me otherwise” He doesn't understand why the Owen in his memories is trusted so much, even though they're the same person. In his mind he's doing what he's always done. protect.

“It wasn't me I'm sorry I just wanted to keep people safe” everything he says to Magic is half genuine and half lie. I don't think even Owen knows which parts are which. It's easier if he separates himself into the nice trusted Owen and who he is now.

No matter what in the end, that was Owen. Not Maze Owen but Owen who is desperate to live. He's tired of it all. He's finished his mission and he won't even get to see what he thinks will be an honorable ending for him.

Remember what Owen says to Apo? "The man you manipulated and lied was nothing more than a puppet driven by the instinct to survive."

So of course he'll do anything to survive even if it means playing up the truth.

It's hard to separate Owen into these neat boxes and say for sure that was Maze Owen at the end or that was full manipulation. Because like Owen everything is a bit grey here. Maze Owen wasn't the best person, he hurt his friends, people were scared of him. And post memories Owen isn't some misunderstood guy that needs babying either. 

My final thoughts on this debate is that in the end the one that pleads for his life is just Owen. To separate him and say it was Maze Owen doesn't allow you to understand how complex Owen is as a character. And continues to let you believe that Owen can't do anything wrong. Not understanding sometimes a good person is capable of this evil. To the end Owen still believed he was doing what was right and that was protecting the ones he cared about. So has anything really changed since the start?

[salmalin]

How Many Square Miles is Yurgenschmit? And What is the Air Speed Velocity of an Unladen Swallow Highbeast?

For fic reasons, I decided to figure out how big Yurgenschmidt is. So without further ado, I welcome you to "Sal, Why Are You Doing Math For Fanfiction Again?" Episode number Seriouslywhyareyoustilldoingthis.

(Note: I messed up on the walking math for Tuuli and accidentally did everything in halves in the original version of this post, but the country numbers are still accurate in that version, if you see it floating around.)

Naturally, I am posting my findings for all to enjoy. I will happily do the math so that y'all don't have to.

(If you just want the rough square mileage, just jump to the big red text near the bottom.)

Now, first thing's first—what maps are we working with? Because canon has three available: Ehrenfest's capitol, Ehrenfest Duchy, and Yurgenschmidt.

Now, you might brush off the Ehrenfest Capitol map right off the bat, saying we're trying to figure out large dimensions, but it's actually valid for two reasons. First, it shows how close the forest for foraging is. It's almost immediately outside the gate. It is also, however, about the same distance from the gate that Myne's house is from the gate on the other side.

So here's the city with a grid.

It took about twenty minutes for a child like Tuuli to walk from home to the gate, so I appreciated the water. -Part 1, Volume 1

The average walking speed for an adult is about 4 miles per hour, and for a child about 7 years old it would be close to 2.8 mph, but Tuuli is on the larger side, and very active, so I'd put her at about 3mph. Considering the only perspective applied to the map of the capitol is the angle, and there's no size discrepancy between buildings, we can just apply a grid and not worry about perspective lines.

The line from Myne's house to the main road is 4.6 red blocks, and from there to the gate is 5.7 red blocks. (I did the triangle math so you don't have to.) That's about 10.3 blocks. So at an average speed, a child Tuuli's size can walk about 10 blocks of space (I'm being kind to my decimals) in twenty minutes. This puts Tuuli at about half a block a minute. Since an average adult's speed is 4mph, that means an adult can cover about 13-14 blocks of space in that time, or about .7 blocks a minute. So since 1 mile is 15 minutes at 4mph, and every minute is .7 blocks, which makes 1 mile approximately 10 blocks of space on this scale.

As the distance from South Gate to the temple gate is 24 red blocks, that means the length of the commoner district is 2.4 miles long.

Now, fun fact: Buggies or carts drawn by horses go about 6-8mph. Conveniently double the speed of a child or an adult, respectively. So let's treat them like they go 7MPH. (Yes, I know they'd go faster if the horse were running. They pretty much never do that in reality. Bookworm is shockingly well-grounded in realistic principals for a fantasy series with magic.)

Length of time it would take to get from South Gate to the Temple via main road:

Child (approx 7-9): 48 min.

Adult: 34 min.

Buggy/Carriage: 20 min.

We had arrived at the village. It was about fifteen minutes away from the town gate, and after passing through the entryway, I could hear lots of people talking. -Part 1, Volume 1

"Once we flew over the lower city and passed the outer walls, the griffon immediately began descending. We were heading to the winter mansion of the closest farming town to the south gate, the same town that my neighborhood went to on pig killing day." -Part 2, Volume 3

15 minutes in a cart or buggy at 7 mph is 1.75 miles.

As they are described as "immediately" descending, this implies that they can close two miles in a very short period of time. Since it was described as "immediately", then went straight into describing the town instead of anything about the travel, or even squinting, one can assume that they closed the distance in anywhere between 1-2 minutes. This would put them at a minimum of about 0.0145 miles per second, which is a solid 52 miles per hour. (She was riding with Damuel.) And, of note, at this point, despite "immediately descending" they are described as "high up in the sky". Do even then, they were still above everyone else.

"After that we traveled to the winter mansions of four different farming towns, completing the Spring Prayer at each of them. By the time we were done, the sun was setting and I was exhausted." -Part 2, Volume 3

After Myne falls asleep, she wakes up at Baron Blon's mansion.

As the carriages are already there and unpacked, and this was their first day of travel, this tells us that Baron Blon's residence is close enough for a carriage to reach in one day. This puts it at about 30 miles maximum from Ehrenfest. So, to account for the fact that we don't have a road map, and they were stopping in other towns on the way, let's assume that, as the crow flies, a straight line between the capitol and Blon is approx. 20 miles.

This would make every red block about 5 1/2 miles. And this, folks—this is what we needed.

If every block is 5 1/2 miles long, then we have a general idea of how big the country is. North to south, highest to lowest point, Ehrenfest is about 165 miles long. So without further ado...

Ehrenfest is about 5 1/2 blocks long. That means, strangely conveniently, each of these blocks is 30 miles.

So, at 20 blocks long and 20 blocks wide, being a perfect circle,

Yurgenschmidt is approximately 600 miles across, implying a total area of 282,743 square miles.

Bonus—Clarissa's route to Ehrenfest and the assumed top speed of a highbeast!

Clarissa goes from Dunkelfelger to Ehrenfest in one day by going at top speed on her highbeast, chugging mana potions the whole way. (An appropriate fiance for our very own Hartmut the Horrible.) Now, this is hard to really calculate because we don't know where in Dunkelfelger she's coming from. NOR do we know which gates are open, or where. However, they are described vaguely, and we do know the location of one specific gate that she uses—the Frenbeltag gate!

Now, she absolutely left at first bell, no doubt about it. (Around 4AM.) She is noted to have arrived in Ehrenfest after third bell (~9:45)am. More notably, Myne was wrapping up a meeting when she gets the message. This would put the time at around 10:30 or so, meaning Clarissa had flown for around six hours, considering the time she was briefly detained.

And since using Ahrensbach's gates is described as faster, this likely means the gates in Werkestock and Dunkelfelger are likely in less ideal places than a route through Ahrensbach. Thus I propose a route along these lines for our Favorite Future Mrs. Horrible.

So this is about 14 1/2 blocks. With 30 miles per block, that is roughly 435 miles covered in five hours, or 87 miles per hour.

So highbeasts basically go as fast as cars, the speed limit is 50, laynobles are driving the speed limit, and archnobles can afford the ticket.

As always, thanks for joining me in Hell. <3

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Part Three

Of bar fights and ice blocks

Words: 4.3

Part Two | Series Masterlist | Part Four

Warnings: slow burn to the point we might just be embers, eventual smut but next chapter I promise, teeny bit of blood, quite a lot of masculine nonsense, Joel is hot but remains grumpy

When you were in eighth grade you fell madly in love with Johnny Hocart. He was a theatre kid, wildly charismatic for a 14 year old boy, and smart enough to recognise that you had a crush on him and use you for it. You’d signed up to help out with the school play that year, Johnny being the lead in Death of a Salesman the only motivation for your sudden interest in the arts, and he turned you into his roadie almost immediately. You used your own money to fetch him chocolate from the vending machine, you carried his water bottle around behind him on the off chance he might be thirsty. The afternoon you applied his eyeliner for him, on tippy toes and terrified to topple over and take his eye out in the process, fuelled your first fumbled attempt at an orgasm (you wouldn’t get it right until eleventh grade, but you had fun figuring it out). He made you feel something heavy and relentless and heated in your chest, something that unfurled its wings and beat against your rib cage when he walked into view. The little shit let you dote on him hand and foot right up until the wrap party when he stuck his hand up Donna D’Marco’s skirt and spent the rest of the year bragging about it. You were crushed by it, the weight of the humiliation heavy on your shoulders, slumping you forward and folding you into yourself. You vowed to never forget it. But you had, until you met Joel.

Sitting in the mess hall you wondered what happened to Johnny Hocart on outbreak day. You liked the idea that he hadn’t died immediately, that he’d lived in fear for a few months before getting shot by a raider, or maybe that he’d been traded to a slaver and collapsed one day from exhaustion, from malnutrition. You hated to think of him as a clicker, because even though he was a dick no one deserved that, but at the same time you liked the kind of dramatic irony of him as a bloater, overblown as his ego had been.

You chewed your sandwich, one eye on the door, waiting for Marla and definitely not waiting for Joel. You thought instead about the clients you had booked in for the afternoon, and how you were going to finally sort out Peter Fletcher’s tennis elbow so that he could comfortably hold his rifle, and why didn’t they call it rifle elbow since that sounded so much cooler, and you considered all of this while you kept your head down, and very purposefully didn’t think about the hazel flecks in Joel’s eyes as he gazed up at you, one hand cupping and lifting his muscle while you stood square between his knees.

He’d been grumpy and dismissive, you reminded yourself, and the minute he’d felt some relief he had just up and left. You conveniently forgot the part where you had essentially ushered him out the door, suddenly keen to exorcise your living space of him. You weren’t even sure exactly what that was about, except that you had felt the first flutterings of a wing against your ribs, had recognised the feeling as something dangerous and done your best to quash it.

You were contemplating this when a shadow appeared at your table, and you startled.

‘Shit, sorry, just me,’ Ray said, and you craned your neck up to regard him. ‘Can I?’ he asked, pulling at the chair opposite you, and you nodded while you tried to calm your heart. You could see something was up.

‘You ok?’ you asked, when he was finished apologising.

‘Me and my stupid glorious brain,’ he said, and you were tempted not to let him go on any further. ‘I intercepted a message that read like it was raiders, something about a big stash, an old pharmacy that hadn’t been hit yet. Coordinates, too.’

‘That’s great,’ you said, watching his face carefully, studying the lines across his forehead, his furrowed brow, decoding Jackson’s best decoder. ‘It’s not great,’ you concluded.

‘They called in a bunch of patrols to go check it out,’ he said, and suddenly you imagined Joel on the back of a horse, leaning to the left to try and protect his right side, gun strapped to his back and his neck muscles straining under the ache of it. You grimaced. ‘Marla’s was one of them,’ Ray finished, oblivious to your sudden turmoil.

It was a poorly kept secret that Ray was in love with Marla. Poorly kept in that the only person who didn’t seem to know was her. You suspected Ray would have happily stayed put in Chicago were it not for Marla going arse over tit for the idea of living on a ranch. She had barely had to convince him to come with you both, such that he had offered to trade and borrow to get the supplies you’d need, parting with his mother’s wedding ring that he wore on a chain around his neck in the process. You weren’t even sure if Marla noticed, as it had been lost in the service of gaining three passable sleeping bags, and Marla had wrapped her arms around Ray’s neck and kissed behind his ear when he presented them to you, and you had seen in that moment that for Ray it had been enough.

You could tell Jackson hadn’t been what he expected, not least of all now having to share Marla with an entire town.

‘Ray, you did a good thing,’ you said, reaching out and putting your hand on his bicep. He nodded his head, slowly.

‘You heading to the Bison tonight?’ he asked, and you scrambled quickly to come up with an excuse.

‘I was going to check on Maria,’ you replied, grateful for your guilt reminding you that you’d still not caught up with her. ‘It’s been a while since I saw her, and she’s due soon-ish I think. I was going to take her some dinner.’

He looked at you, his mouth downturned and his brows saddled over his eyes, and you felt yourself retracting from his sadness, from his regret. Johnny Hocart had painted your face in similar colours.

‘Yeah, ok,’ you said. You tried hard not to show on your face that the idea was making your skeleton want to crawl out of your mouth and try its luck on the road. But you could see Ray was struggling, that he was bouncing his leg up and down under the table. ‘Marla’s a fighter,’ you said. He looked at you for a long moment, then nodded his head.

‘Bison. Tonight,’ he said, with finality.

You didn’t ask if he knew who else was going on the expedition. You reminded yourself you didn’t care, taking a big swig of water to drown the butterflies.

—

Propped up at a table off to the side, you had a clear view of the bar on your right and the door on your left. You were sitting with Ray and his friend that you didn’t know, and you were trying to participate in conversation but your guts were churning. As much as you wanted to stay in the moment, you couldn’t stop yourself scanning the crowd for threats. Someone smashed a glass over by the jukebox and you felt yourself startle, nearly knocking your own drink off the table. Over by the bar Chloe Bennett, owner of lumbar back problems and occasional sciatica, demonstrated how much her yelping laugh sounded like a woman being stabbed to death with her own stiletto, and you wanted very much to push your chair back and leg it, but Ray kept glancing at you to check you were ok, and his friend Simon seemed quite nice generally speaking, and if nothing else you might be able to drum up some more business out of him.

‘So you don’t charge anything?’ Simon was asking. Simon and Ray worked the radio together most days, Ray listening in to the white noise for any sign of covert communication, and Simon dutifully twisting the knobs beside him. Some part of you registered that he was conventionally attractive, and you wondered if the way he was leaning in to you as you chatted was what passed for flirting in an apocalypse, but also you were watching Ray scanning for Marla, trying to telepathically tell him it would be ok.

‘I mean, we don’t have money,’ you answered Simon.

‘You don’t barter then?’

‘I’m grateful to be here. My home is payment. My safety is payment.’

‘I don’t buy it,’ he said, and he was grinning and you knew that it was playful, but also you felt a wrinkle of frustration in the folds of your skin.

‘You don’t agree?’ Simon shrugged at you in response, and for a reason still not clear to you it made you want to slap him a little bit. You turned to Ray for help, but Ray was looking at the door, and when you looked too you saw Tommy and Joel had just walked in.

‘Fuck,’ Ray said, and you scanned his face for anxiety but found only awe. ‘They are so cool.’

Simon nodded in agreement, and you scoffed in surprise.

‘Are they?’ you asked, and your companions turned to you, confused, and Ray even slightly betrayed.

‘Tommy basically keeps this place going, him and Maria,’ Simon informed you as if this was news.

‘Peak Mama and Daddy Jackson,’ Ray chimed in.

‘Joel. He’s just…’ All three of you turned to watch him approach the bar, nodding to the bartender, who had started pouring him a whiskey the moment he walked in, and slid it over to him.

You weren’t sure how you wanted Simon to finish that sentence. Your eyes kept being drawn to Joel, the broadness of him, the salt and pepper in his hair in stark contrast to his strength, the power under his muscles and behind his eyes. You felt warm in your palms where you had held him, flexed your fingers to try and get the heat out.

You let the conversation move on without you, staring down at your drink, tracing the droplets of condensation first from the body of the glass and then down to the tabletop. If you hadn’t rushed him out would he have let you keep massaging him? Would you have peeled his shirt from his body and explored the planes of his skin? You wiped the water away before it could damage the wood.

‘They’re heading out tomorrow, first light,’ you heard Ray saying, and suddenly your attention snapped back to the present. ‘So I want to be on the radio early, before they go. See if we can find the signal again, make sure the raiders aren’t going in first.’

‘You said you thought they were further out,’ Simon pointed out. ‘That it was bouncing off the mountain.’

‘I know but we’re a day behind.’

‘That’s a lot of ground to cover.’

‘Not on horseback,’ Ray reasoned.

‘We don’t know if they have horses,’ Simon replied. He held his hands palm up on the table, in appeasement, you realised.

‘We don’t know that they don’t, either. We’re sending seven of our people out there…’ your stomach lurched at seven, and your eyes flicked again to Tommy and Joel, and you wondered if tonight was last drinks for them, not knowing if they would both make it back, a time for two brothers to come together before heading back into war. ‘…including Marla, and I just want to-‘

‘What does Marla have to do with it?’ Simon asked, and you decided then he was either an idiot or heartless, and neither option was preferable. You exhaled slowly through your teeth, and watched Ray for his reaction, and wondered if either of them would notice if you just slipped away into the crowd.

You watched Ray gather himself. ‘Marla is a good shot,’ he said, eventually.

You could feel Simon preparing to argue but suddenly there was yelling, actual yelling not imaginary traumatised-by-the-end-of-the-world yelling, and all three of you turned to the bar.

Jacob and another man you didn’t recognise were standing at the other end of the bar, pointing fingers at Joel and Tommy. Joel had already stepped around his little brother, squaring off with them, and you could see that his body was braced, a tightly wound spring in a flannel shirt and jeans. You picked your glass up off the table and cradled it to your chest, as if that would solve it.

You didn’t know Jacob. He was one of the men who had already decided he didn’t own muscles, or feel pain. You knew that he was younger than the men he was squaring off with, that he was full of bravado and empty of brains, the type to shoot first and think later, and it wasn’t lost on you that back in the day he would have made the type of cop that was the subject of several enquires and a few unflattering news items, who would have been shunted off to be the deputy of a shithole town that’s biggest crime wave was when a couple of cookbooks went missing from the local library, a town that he nevertheless tortured until he retired.

Jacob was currently yelling so hard spittle was flying across the bar, and you could make out the carotid artery along his red neck.

‘All well and good for you two,’ he was saying. ‘Sitting back while the real men go out and defend this town.’ Joel was moving forward towards him, despite Tommy pulling on his sleeve to bring him back, and everyone in the bar was now frozen, watching. Jacob continued, because he was as dumb as he was hateful. ‘Oh I’m on the fucking town council, that means I get to decide who lives and who dies without having to put my own arse on the line. Fuckin’ weak, pathetic-‘

‘Lower your voice,’ Joel said, completely calm and also utterly terrifying. Jacob laughed, actually laughed, in Joel’s face.

‘Fuck off old man,’ he spat, taking another step towards Joel, who wouldn’t back down. ‘You don’t get a say either, ridin your little brother’s dick all the way to retirement.’

‘It’s men and women,’ Joel continued, undeterred and still deathly calm. One afternoon on the road you’d come across a snake on the path, big and brown and poised with its head up, watching you. It had taken you ten minutes to back away from it, so sure it was about to lunge. Watching Joel now, inching forward towards Jacob, you had the same feeling. Jacob wasn’t following Joel, made too stupid by his misplaced entitlement, his anger and his impotent fury. ‘We are sending the real men and women to defend this town, and Tommy and I’ll be here to keep it safe while you’re gone.’

You exhaled for the first time all day, the tension you didn’t even know you were carrying with you suddenly releasing. But Jacob was more angry now, and Tommy was backing up Joel and squaring off too, and you felt the heat in the room ratchet up.

‘I’m having a baby, you fuck,’ Tommy said, and Joel raised his hand to calm him. Tommy immediately settled back behind his bigger brother.

‘Not to say we ain’t grateful,’ Joel continued, but Jacob had noticed that the whole bar was watching, that Joel was about to talk him out of an argument, that he was about to be alpha’d by a man twice his age. He took three steps forward toward Joel, who had already reached back to push Tommy out of the way, and Jacob’s arm was swinging just a fraction slower than Joel’s, who clocked the younger man hard in the jaw and sent him spinning, landing hard on the top of the bar and shattering glasses and bottles underneath him. He was only down for a second before he was back up and swinging, landing a blow on Joel’s eye socket before he and Tommy had him by the back of the collar. You realised you had stood up and had moved towards them only when you were close enough to hear Joel grunt ‘a fuckin bar fight, really? You that fuckin clichè?’

Jacob just grunted, his airway constricted by his shirt that Joel was now using as a vice, and even in the middle of the violence you could see he was careful not to compress harder than he needed to, holding him sturdy but without gripping so hard as to injure.

The four men headed for the door, Joel pushing Jacob through first and then following, using the momentum to swing the younger man out and down the stairs and into the dirt below. His friend rushed to him, pulling him up and away, and as you followed them out you heard Jacob spitting threats of his return. Joel was puffed, leant against the railing to catch his breath. He turned to his brother, checked on him, and then to you, where his eyebrows shot up and you realised he was seeing you only now. Your breath caught in your throat. You had no idea what you were doing there, either.

‘You’re hurt,’ you said after a moment, gesturing to his fist. You could see a scrape of blood pooling on the knuckle.

‘Ain’t broken,’ he said. Turning to Tommy he more or less ignored you. ‘You ok?’ he asked. Tommy nodded, before he also nodded to Joel’s fist.

‘Take him to ours,’ he said to you. ‘We got ice in the freezer. Time to work some more miracles.’

You were alarmed, pretty much constantly, but especially so when Tommy turned back to go inside.

‘You’re not coming?’ you asked, and you hated that your panic had carried through into your voice.

‘Gotta make it right here,’ he said, without turning around.

—

The walk to Maria’s was three minutes at most and still you would have flayed your own skin clean off not to have to do it. You could feel the wings now, beating hard against your rib cage, and you swallowed only to taste acid on the back of your tongue. Joel was silent, but it was the type of silence that belies being pissed off, a general curmudgeon-ing, that set you on edge.

You thought again back to your teacher. When the clients in pain, keep them talking.

‘How’s the shoulder?’ you asked, into the darkness in front of you instead of looking at Joel’s face.

‘Thought it wasn’t my shoulder,’ he said, and it took a second for you to realise he was teasing you, not goading. ‘S’ok, I hear it’s all connected,’ he pretend to console you, and you squawked out a surprised laugh, wondering if you’d ever, up until this moment, made a sound like that before.

At no point had you considered that Joel Miller could be funny. Now, though, you discovered you had even less of an idea of how to talk to him.

‘You’re not going out on the run?’ you asked, and you hoped not to sound too relieved, too hopeful.

‘Got things to look out for at home,’ he said, and you stayed quiet in the hope that he would keep talking. ‘Ellie and me, we had a rough time of it…she’s been quiet. Thought best to…’ he trailed off.

‘Maria said you went to Salt Lake?’ you asked, and because you were still unable to look at him you didn’t see him flinch. ‘Why did you have to go there?’ you continued on.

‘Didn’t realise Maria liked to gossip so much,’ he said, and you heard it then, the hardness of it.

You rushed to defend her. ‘I was just curious,’ you started, and Joel stopped you, stopped walking altogether. You turned back to him.

‘Dangerous thing,’ he said, and you wanted to tell him that you knew that, that you weren’t normally like that, that you were clever and you had survived this long because if it, but he was already turning up the path to Maria and Tommy’s place, and all you could do was trail behind him, like a fucking lap dog, worried he’d lock you out if you took too long to get inside.

From the couch Maria called for Tommy, and when Joel responded she pulled herself up to stand. You were surprised by how big she’d gotten, trying to remember the last time you’d seen a pregnant woman. Let alone a pregnant woman about to pop.

‘I know, I’m huge,’ she said, when she saw you staring and you snapped your eyes back to her face.

‘Radiant,’ you said, and she snorted.

‘Thank you for lying,’ she replied, and you felt the warmth of genuine affection between the two of you, thought for a moment of sunshine on your skin, of your sister.

‘Tommy said you had ice,’ Joel cut in, and Maria noticed Joel’s hand, her face hardening.

‘They started it,’ Joel said, and you nodded behind him to confirm that this was indeed true. You saw the suspicion in her eyes, the way she was careful with him, and you stepped forward, taking his elbow.

‘I’ll sort it,’ you said, smiling with what you hoped was confidence. Joel looked down at your hand on his arm, then up to your face, where you ignored his obvious indignation at being herded like a child. ‘On we go,’ you said, feeling like a deranged grade school teacher, trying to get her class of unruly six year olds through to 3 pm unscathed. You didn’t see the bemused look on Maria’s face as you pushed Joel down the hallway, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.

Once again you found yourself crammed into a kitchen with Joel. Sitting him at the table you put some ice in a cloth then plopped down into the chair beside him and held out your hand. He stared at you, unmoving.

‘I can do this,’ he said, and you were tired then, having dealt with quite a lot of male bullshit in just the last two hours, and so you groaned and pulled his hand to you, holding him firm by the wrist lest he try and patriarchy his way out again.

‘I can do it better,’ you said simply, and he huffed out a laugh.

‘Now that I don’t deny,’ he said, and it was quiet, just barely muttered between the two of you, and when you looked up into his eyes you found that they were crinkled with something like amusement, something like affection.

You looked down, flexed his fingers for him, heard him hold his breath when you inspected the knuckle.

‘They teach you this in school, too?’ he asked, and you heard again that he was ribbing you. You decided it was a good sign.

‘No this is purely growing up with a daredevil older sister,’ you replied.

‘Family resemblance, then,’ he replied and you looked up at him sharply, angry for a second that he was calling you meek, that he was deriding you for a perfectly normal reaction to the collapse of society, but you saw nothing on his face that belied any aggression. If anything, you saw warmth.

‘This sore?’ you asked, just gently wresting a fingertip on the bone. His hands were big, with thick and powerful fingers, and you were doing your absolute best not to consider what they could do to you, if you let them.

‘S’alright,’ he murmured. For a moment you saw outside yourself, watched you hunched over inspecting the paw of a lion, a little mouse reaching in to extract a thorn.

‘Here?’ you said, hushed under the light of Maria’s kitchen. You pressed down slightly, on exactly the same spot, and heard his breath stutter. You realised the makeshift ice pack was too bulky to fit between his knuckles, so you opened it and took a block out, resolutely not looking up into his face.

‘Tell me if this is too cold,’ you said, holding the block between your fingers and running it gently over his skin.

‘Mmhmm,’ he hummed, gently. You kept the ice moving, your eyes watching his hand for any sign of a tremble, but he stayed resolute under your touch.

The heat of his skin started to melt it, cold water running down and snaking under his palm, between his fingers. It washed away the blood, so that you could see only scratches, surface abrasions, from where knuckle met jaw. You watched the pink of it, mixing with the water, little rivers of something precious, something Joel. You were aware only of your finger tips, the push of wings against your chest present but forgotten, as you witnessed him, his essence. As you gazed down on the thing that made him, that kept him, the life in his veins. As the block melted down to just a wafer, as it healed, sealed over the hurt, you lifted it to your mouth to taste it, wanting the iron and the tang of it, the sharpness of the cold mixed with the heat of him, of your open mouth.

You heard his breath hitch. Your eyes flew open, not having realised you’d closed them, and landed on his face, where you gasped when you saw the look of pure wanting, of pure desire, painted pink and red over his features. You dropped his hand in your panic, your face burning, your legs moving before your brain had even taken a moment to collect itself.

‘Thanks Maria I gotta go think Joel will be fine I hope you’re ok will drop some food around you’re the most beautiful pregnant lady I’ve ever seen take care bye’ you vomited, gathering your coat tight around your shoulders and wanting but not wanting, terrified but hoping, to hear footsteps down the hall behind you. You wrenched the door open, felt the welcome rush of cool on your face, already halfway down the porch before you heard it slam shut behind you.

You sprinted, shuffling over ice but not slowing, back to your home. As you went you followed the wall, wondering how it could have made you feel safe now that you were trapped behind it, wondering how you could possibly live with the snake poised to lunge at you, how you could outrun it when it had taken up home inside your belly, beside your breath.

Tag list (just learned what these are, lemme know if you want me to add you)

@orcasoul

[extremely-judgemental]

Feyre’s autonomy in the books is a sham.

From the start of the series, Feyre is the voice of agency and independence. Even before she is taken to the fae lands, she’s headstrong and stubborn and insists on making her own decisions against the advice of her sisters and father. And once in Spring Court, she often retaliates against Tamlin, sneaks out of the mansion, and wanders where she isn’t allowed for her own safety. After her rebirth, once again, she fights for her autonomy which causes the rift between her and Tamlin.

It’s very clear where Feyre’s values truly lie. So, let’s talk about how they crumble in her new life.

Feyre shares three different bonds with Rhysand.

Under the Mountain, Feyre makes a bargain with Rhysand which leaves a spying eye on her palm. This only proves beneficial to her during Amarantha’s second task and later, when she wants to stop her wedding in Spring Court. From the bargain marks on Nesta and Cassian, it’s obvious they don’t act as a communication channel. Rhysand deliberately fashioned theirs to enable his voyeurism. In FAS, he turns this mark to the insignia of Night Court, which raises the question, if he had control over such powerful magic, why didn’t he change it or release her when she left for Spring Court if he had no intention of spying further or harming her? Moreover in WAR, she admits missing this specific tattoo and is relieved to have the one on her other hand, implying Feyre is addicted to his influence over her mind by now.

Rhysand trains Feyre to control her Daemati powers and shield herself against the others. Yet at the end of it, Feyre admits to leaving an open channel for Rhysand at all times. While she never blocks this path often, other than that time in Spring Court, Rhysand chooses to whenever its convenient for him, like when he decided to give Nesta away to Eris, allow Keir and his people into Velaris, or during the battle of Adriata. This shows Feyre allows him more reign over this bond and encourages him to do so whenever he’s making decision without consulting her.

Finally, the mating bond. This is the one that influences emotions the most. For someone who’s already being influenced mentally to have an open emotional line to the other only makes Feyre prone to be a sheep herded by Rhysand.

Feyre prefers to be Rhysand’s lackey.

Feyre learns to control her powers, learns to read, and trains to wield her newly made fae body. Though these are her desires even before she moves to Night Court, they all conveniently fit into Rhysand’s grand schemes. So, if none of it had amounted to much, would he have let her? We have proof of it in SF where Nesta’s trauma and healing doesn’t matter to him and he chooses to prepare a traumatised woman to find the trove and fight for them.

Time and again, Feyre does everything Rhysand asks for because she ‘understands his reasons’ or they are vital in the upcoming war like stealing the Book of Breathings from Summer Court. She has a moment to make a choice of her own, she contemplates telling Tarquin the truth instead of deceiving him and decides against it because Rhysand doesn’t trust him. Not a night ago, Feyre has no problem violating Tarquin’s mind and yet she couldn’t recognise his true intention.

It shows Feyre doesn’t even want to think. She’s happy to follow along with whatever Rhysand says. She dismisses her instincts in favour of believing every word he feeds her. How does Feyre have an agency when she refuses to even think for herself?

Velaris is a gilded cage.

Feyre is first brought to the Moonstone Palace and introduced to Velaris only after she promises to never speak of it or go back to Tamlin (iirc). The city is protected by a ward that hasn’t been breeched in 5000 years. She’s brought to the Town House (Rhysand’s personal home) and left with the wraiths who answer to him. The word ‘choice’ is often brought up here when in truth, Feyre is a homeless fae taking ‘help’ from the first person who offered. If she denies, she’s on her own in an unknown, and possibly enemy, territory.

But all that turns out fine and Feyre becomes the High Lady. Now, she’s never left the city alone of her own volition. She never explores the city on her own. She doesn’t even know the true boundary of Velaris or the court other than seeing it on maps maybe. Whenever she’s out of the city—to CoN, to Illyria, to the Prison, to Summer Court, to High Lord’s meeting—she’s always escorted by Rhysand.

Her life in Velaris is very similar to the one in Spring, except the entire city is her mansion. What Feyre condemned Tamlin for is exactly what she accepts with open arms in Night.

Feyre has no true friend or ally.

The first people Feyre meets in Night Court are the very and only ones who ever become her friends—Rhysand’s family. Whenever Feyre is not with him, she’s always found with one of these ‘friends’ who are also more loyal to their High Lord than her. They prove this in SF when none of them care for her agency as much as they care for her unborn child or Rhysand’s feelings. Moreover, Feyre has even isolated herself from her sisters by choosing her new family over them again and again.

High Lady who is just another lady.

During her rule, Feyre does nothing but fight and wage wars for inappropriate reasons. She either doesn’t or can’t make rules. While Rhysand makes decisions without consulting her and employs it, Feyre only ever gets to know of these when everybody else does—Keir’s visit to Velaris, offering her own sister to Eris. She is only a High Lady by name and has no authority to do anything with her crown. In fact, she hasn’t even tested this new power except for lording it over her sisters and so-called friends. It’s merely a title enabling her to run amok destroying courts and insulting High Lords without consequences.

Feyre is a prize to be claimed.

Feyre is tossed back and forth between two men, especially since MAF. She’s never the one choosing what’s best for her. She doesn’t reevaluate her situations, tally them, and decide where she wants to be or who she ends up with. She chooses the first man who is willing to give her an inch on the leash. For a woman who’s meant to be the badass female who never relies on anyone, her freedom is controlled by, bargained by, and fought between two domineering men. She could have chosen to go back to her sisters. She could have chosen to live separately for a while, to explore at least Velaris on her own without someone breathing down her neck all the time, and then she could have decided on a path for herself. Instead Feyre is willing to jump from one man’s arms to another because it’s easier than to have true autonomy.

What if Feyre wants a break from Velaris or Rhysand?

She has no home of her own to go to. She’s bound her own sisters with her inside Velaris. She’s established herself as Rhysand’s whore in Hewn City and his racist queen in Illyria. The only people she can rely on for help are Rhysand’s friends. No one can enter the city to rescue her, nor will anyone choose to fight the ‘most powerful High Lord’ for her. She had the opportunity to befriend Tarquin and instead she made an enemy out of Summer for Rhysand. If she had explained her situation to Tamlin, he could’ve been her one shot but then she destroyed Spring on a personal vendetta.

The High Lords meeting is interesting as Rhysand uses that to isolate Feyre furthermore from the other courts. Despite what happened with Spring, they still had respect for her. But Rhysand constantly throws ‘She’s a High Lady’ around cementing that Feyre is the one making the choices when it came to aggression when he passively fuels her actions. He refuses to hold her accountable for her crimes proving he’s capable of but wouldn’t stop her even when she’s wrong. He allows Feyre to lose control of her powers when a minute ago, he gladly took control of Tamlin’s mind. He casts a shield around them after her little outburst. He is capable of taming her temper and chooses not to, making a show of his influence over her, essentially destroying every alliance she’s built on her own.

Also, when the Wall comes down, Rhysand senses it all the way from the Dawn Court. If his powers have such reach, would it be impossible for him to find Feyre wherever she was even without the bonds aiding him? Considering the city wards, the three bonds, and the extent of his powers alone, he has little to worry about Feyre’s safety. If one of those were lacking, it’s not far-fetched to believe he’d go ballistic. And this is obvious from the shield he caged Feyre in during her pregnancy. Would Tamlin have acted the way he did if he had an ounce of Rhysand’s powers or had a secret city? Rhysand is calm and assured not because he trusts Feyre but he knows she can’t get too far from his reach.

These circumstances are completely ignored and Feyre chooses to believe she’s better off in Night Court when her life is not so different. She is too blind to realise her fate and life is heavily influenced by Rhysand—from her home, to friends, to family, to her own mind. She sees the city he wants her to see. She meets the people he wants her to meet. While every other court is still recovering from Amarantha’s rule and rebuilding their cities from ruins, Rhysand flaunts Velaris as the ideal home for her and Feyre is more than willing to take it. She never once questions him or his beliefs. She even accepts and embodies his morals as her own to the point of hating two whole cities she has no clue about.

And where is her autonomy in that? In some ways, Feyre had more power as herself in Spring than she has as High Lady in Night.

[disneyprincemuke]

in the late night, in a disguise

alternatively: of course people recognise her at 3am

in which logan has to dress entirely differently to run some late-night errands with her in the uk

(series masterlist)

"are you sure this is discreet enough for me to be seen holding your hand in public?" was what logan had asked her about an hour ago before they stepped out of their apartment.

discreet enough meant an oversized puffer jacket that covered nothing, and a simple cap to sort of shield himself away from being recognised too quick. though, the argument he tried to race was that he's not worried it would be him that would be spotted; it's her after the year she just had.

she simply answered him with a: "it's three in the morning, nobody's out on the streets at this time of the hour."

what she failed to factor in was that there's a local club that will close during the time they arrive at the convenience store about two blocks from their apartment.

logan's eyes widen at the crowd that's spilling out from the doors up ahead and drops his head low, pulling the hat further down his head as if it would help him shield himself from the reality of being found.

his oblivious girlfriend, however, keeps her lingering stare on the half-tipsy and stumbling bouts of clubgoers. she taps her fingers against the back of his, swinging their hands gently as he pushes the door open to reel her away from being recognised with his hand in hers.

"hm, what were we planning on getting again?" she asks softly, scanning the empty convenience store. "i want orange juice. could you help me find orange juice?"

"absolutely. meet at the cashier in 5 minutes?" logan asks, squeezing her hand very quickly as she tears herself away from him.

"okay. don't get anything stupid, logan."

"what makes you say that?"

"just don't," she sighs, flashing him one last smile before she disappears into the aisle right by the fridge.

five minutes pass by quicker than logan expected because he's still staring at the shelves of instant noodles. he just can't simply figure out which exactly he wants to get and eat once they make their way back.

perhaps meeting her a minute or so late wouldn't hurt. so he takes his time contemplating a list in his head, comparing flavours and brands before he settles for a pack of noodles that she would also very much enjoy.

while he walks the aisle leading towards the cashiers, he catches a glimpse of the pink jacket she's decided to wear out tonight. a smile stretches his lips as he calls out to her, "babe, sorry i'm late. i was- oh no."

when he steps out from the corner, catching a glimpse of the area, there's a group of three girls with beaming grins and their phones out. their eyes quickly shift over to him, their eyes widening even more as they slowly process the word that's just been said.

one girl, who had been in the middle of retouching her lipstick for a picture with the (y/n), drops her hand in shock as she looks at logan. then she looks at the driver in pink. "you guys are-"

"i'll pay you good money not to tell anybody," his girlfriend quickly says, hands darting out to gently touch her shoulder with pleading eyes. "can you guys keep a secret?"

"depends, how much are you willing to give to keep it a secret?" one of the girls giggles, a hand covering her lips. though, she straightens her back and her smile disappears when the driver's eyes start to tear up. "wait, i'm joking. of course, we can keep a secret!"

his girlfriend sniffles, wiping her nose on the cuff of her jacket. "are you sure? i can pay you something, i swear!"

"(y/n), no," logan says softly, pulling her back a couple of steps into his body. with a hand protectively on her shoulder, he smiles at the girls, tilting his head. "yeah, we are, but like... in secret."

one of the girls giggles, grabbing her friend's shoulder. "see, i told you they're dating."

the girl with her lipstick in hand, smiles before she puts it away into her bag once more. "that's cool," she admits with a nod. "can i take a picture with your girlfriend, though? meeting her is cooler than finding out something everybody speculates every other week."

"oh," the driver whispers, patting her eyes to dry the tears that had formed. "you think i'm cool?" she turns to logan and tugs at his jacket. "she thinks i'm cool."

"are you kidding?" another girl snorts. "you easily beat those guys on the track - you're amazing."

logan steps forward and puts his things down in the same place she'd momentarily put her stuff. he takes her phone from her jacket pocket and steps out. "absolutely. she's pretty cool, right?"

— bonus

"i can't believe they thought i was cool," she squeaks, tapping her card against the reader. "can you believe that? i'm getting recognised outside the paddocks."

"you're pretty cool, babe," logan grins giddily, holding the door for her as she walks in. "i think i lucked out asking you to be my girlfriend."

she rolls her eyes, waving away his statement. she presses the button to call for an elevator, then takes a step towards him. she tugs at the hem of his shirt as she leans into him and she looks up. "sorry someone saw us. you were right - we should have just stayed in."

"it's okay as long as you're okay with it," logan smiles, leaning down to chastely kiss her. "but this will happen more. you're growing to be quite the household name. i'm convinced i'm retiring as a wag rather than an f1 driver."

she frowns. "don't say that! next season will be much better for you."

"for us."

taglist: @myxticmoon

[assumptionprime]

I adore your take on DS2 and wanted to know what ur thoughts were on Elden Ring and/or DS 3!

(also I have been loving ur comics!!!)

First off: Thank you! Glad you like my comics! <3

I mentioned it briefly in the DS2 post, and it's been said by others, but Dark Souls 3 is about ending Dark Souls. And it does that very well. The "time and space is falling apart and that's why the geography is like that" that people sometimes say about DS2 is literally, textually true in 3. The Dreg Heap is a pile of other, older Dark Souls areas collapsing in on each other. This world has been going on and on, repeating and prolonging the Age of Fire that should have ended long ago, and it's just breaking down. You can't keep the same thing going forever, that's true in the universe of the story, and of a franchise of dark fantasy action RPGs.

It's kind of funny and also impressive that Miyazaki and the team hit that point, saying if they keep doing this it's going to fall apart, on game three of the franchise. There's so many series out there that will pump out game after game of the same stuff, to the point they stop numbering them and give them subtitles to hide the fact that they're on game 23 of this thing, and FromSoft said "three's our limit for this one" and gave us the greatest hits final bow before moving on to new different takes on their subgenre of games.

Enter Elden Ring! The game that got me into FromSoft games. Every time people talked about Dark Souls it was always about how hard they were, and the whole "git gud" mentality, which made them seem like they would 100% be not my kind of thing. But I am an absolute sucker for a fantasy open world, so I dipped my toes into Elden Ring, and really enjoyed it! Being able to just go exploring and do something else whenever I got stuck was a huge plus, as are spirit ash summons. The game is hard, for sure, but there's also a lot of ways to ease that difficulty (not eliminate it, but ease it (also there's no excuse to not have a pause button, that's stupid, don't @ me))

As far as lore and storytelling, Elden Ring has a lot of cool stuff (that's my wife Ranni, my cool witch wife Ranni) but I don't know that I have so definite a "take" on its story. It goes back to the Dark Souls 1 and 3 well of "some important shit happened, go kill this list of bosses about it" but I appreciate that you have a lot more choice in regards to your ending. It's not "link the fire or don't" it's "you're creating a new age, what do you want that age to be like?" with a few compelling choices and some evil bastard ones for fun.

Assorted side thoughts:

FP is better than spell uses. More convenient, more flexible, lets you focus on Mind to allow yourself to cast more spells.

All of my first playthroughs were sword and board, both because of caution going in and because I like the "knight with a sword and shield" aesthetic.

Related to the last point, Guard Counters are a great addition in ER, and the "Sekiro style block" crystal tear for the Physick in the DLC should have been a talisman or something permanent, to just make that a play style people can use.

The Alva Armor rules, 10/10 best fit in Dark Souls

I really like Shadow of the Erdtree, but it is the absolute limit on the current version of Souls-game mechanics. Not everyone is Let Me Solo Her, and between both the extremely punishing difficulty and the becoming more repetitive nature of a lot of the boss design, they need to change up the combat to keep things going. Sekiro seems to be a step in that direction from what I hear?

No boss fight in any video game has ever made me feel as cool as Slave Knight Gael in the DS3 DLC. It just worked for me on pretty much every level. The story, the music, the visuals, the difficulty. I can beat him, and it's hard but not a kind of hard that makes me angry at the game. Dodging in and out of his attacks, getting my own hits in, it felt like a kick ass dance of fantasy combat. It's peak.

[moonsaver]

Myrtle Green

Regardless of your past, and whatever lies in the future, you've decided to leave all the worries and troubles behind to live in a new neighborhood. That means starting over, getting a new job, forming new friendships.. and perhaps more? However, even a simple life can have it's day-to-day challenges, including befriending the strange, broody and reclusive neighbor.

if you didn't know any better, He probably would want to kill you! but that's a silly assumption.

They wouldn't really do such a thing, all for being his neighbor! ...right?

A/n: hello everyone ! This is a slice of life series i wanted to write, an au of 14dwy in a way. Anyone not familiar eith the visual novel can start reading it aswell, but it might contain spoilers from the official blog since its from a different pov. Of course, unfortunately our dear main pairing of Ren x reader is going to be very ooc since i took a lot of liberties even trying to fit him into this au.

I plan for it to be a series and really push myself since i rarely write slice of life. It will most likely be really slow paced since i struggle with coming up with slice of life prompts. It is also available on AO3!

C/w: ren(dacted) x reader, potentially yandere in the future but aimed to be fluffy and normal for the most part. Reader accidentally cuts themselves. I use y/n since i personally discovered a y/n replacer plug in for ao3.

Chapter: Prologue

——

"—our understanding of how and where life on Earth can exist. Since then, hundreds more.." 

The narrator's voice drones on in the background, soon joined by the ambience of the kitchen. A whistling kettle, knife chopping through vegetables, steam rising into the vent from a sizzling pan. The curtains along the window sway as a gentle wind sweeps in. 

".. one major site of high vent abundance is the East Pacific Rise, where the major–" 

"Crap-!" 

You jolt, your hand dropping the knife with a clatter onto the kitchen floor as you hurry to squeeze your finger. Blood rushes with equal hurry to the cut at the tip of your finger, staining your palm when you open to view the damage. You suck in a breath softly at the rising pain, sighing and moving to run it under water to soothe it, before hurrying further into your house to search for a bandaid. 

At least, perhaps you are. [̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅ assumes that to be the case. 

They click their tongue, his hand falling from the shutters of his blinders as he steps back. He'd chosen to observe you through the conveniently placed kitchen window facing his own house. He falls back into the darkness of his home– 

Home. that's where he is, right now. 

If they can even call it that. 

[̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅ would have been greatly pleased to simply stay in the nicer areas of Corland Bay, but avoiding scrutiny and laying low was ideal. Especially with the resurgence of.. 

He shrugs, walking over to his gaming chair and plopping down with a heavy sigh, their eyelids hanging heavier than usual as they lean back. Moving wasn't easy, but relatively less harder for someone like him. Moving meant leaving behind memories, people, something heavy. 

But not them, someone who had nothing worth carrying anyway. A memory clipped and buried under a sandpit, extinguished fires that felt phantom on his skin, and a name he barely bothered to scrape with. People who come from nothing, leave behind nothing. 

Your arrival wasn't supposed to happen. At least, not until after a month. Or more. 

Their tongue presses up against the roof of their mouth, feeling the metal piercing, as he closes his eyes. He was sure he'd glitched out the details online for good – no surrounding neighbors, all peace and quiet. Between calls for temporary jobs, embezzling money from corporations, blocking [̸̛̤̩̓̓Ë̵̟́R̴̤̻̍̇͜Ŕ̵̪̠͖͉͠Ȍ̷̝̗̬̀͒͘Ŕ̴͔̹͎̣͌̽̐]̸͚̼͗̑͋͝ despite the many accounts and messages; it slipped from his grasp. Someone must have fixed it again, and in no time did you find it. 

His new 'neighbor'. 

His fingers drum over the arm rest as he opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Messing up the website until it was irreparable would just make things more unstable. He needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could stay longer; possibly even never move— 

Although, the idea is far too fanatical for [̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅, especially considering his "hobbies". 

But things were still in balance. The scale hasn't started tipping too far. yet.

They suck in a breath, lazily moving up to sit straight, the back of the gaming chair following suit. Most times, ignoring was easy. He could just carry on with his life, and you with yours. 

He'd noticed and watched, quietly, the monotony of the movers unloading and shifting in cardboard boxes, furniture. A life into the once solitary house. Followed by a long silence as you closed the door once the last box was in. The night continued like normal, but [̴̮̜̲̈́̄̍R̷̤̜̐̐̆E̵̻͑́͗D̵̰͓̣̐A̸̭͍̪̓̌́Ć̶̢͓̆̎Ṱ̸̈͊̚Ȇ̷͚̭̼͛̕̚D̵͕̹̐̍͑͝]̷̨̊̍̅ felt oddly on edge with the new presence next door.

It was in the morning when "noticing" turned into "observation". 

When he stepped out for a break from the various screens, he noticed your presence — music playing from the kitchen, an abrupt pause only to be replaced with a documentary, people already stopping by to welcome you to the neighborhood, housewarming presents being passed. A part of him was annoyed; hopefully you don't expect it from him. And even worse; more people around your house meant more exposure around his. 

God, he hopes you never visit. He hopes no one ever knocks. 

A faint scowl forms on his face, absentmindedly clicking away on anything, sharp blue eyes occasionally snapping to the blinders over his window as if expecting your face to pop up right behind it. 

——

You hum, walking down the stairs into your living room where the documentary lulls in the background, scrolling on your phone with one hand, the other lazily gliding over the handrail.

Speaking of other houses - the other neighbors were not so friendly. Nice, but not kind - or as you assume.

You stop once you reach the end of the staircase, taking a moment to reply to all the new “welcome” messages from the new group chat you’re added to. Of course, there’s a few flaws where you live - a reason rent is surprisingly cheap - but the neighbors are ridiculously friendly. Violet — a white haired woman, was the first to greet you and quickly work to get you incorporated into the group chat with everyone in the neighborhood. It’s no surprise, considering her place is facing yours directly. You’re perhaps lucky she has a green thumb - the smell of your burnt cooking might at least not waft into the other houses since the scent is covered by her flowers. 

Violet mentions the other neighbors; the ones on your right being distant and working late nights. You may occasionally see them, but that is a rare chance occurrence.

The one on your left, however, proves to be more intriguing.

You sigh again, moving to take a seat in your living room as you scroll through all the new contacts you’ve added, your fingers stopping at…

You look up from your phone momentarily to glance out your kitchen window; directly facing the house to your left. The shutters are closed, and according to Violet, perpetually so.

You fold up your legs, gnawing on your lips as you wonder about your apparent “shut-in” of a neighbor. You take a moment to think of the word,

Well, since he’s your neighbor.. Technically it wouldn’t hurt to text him, right?

You zone out for a moment, before pushing it aside. You tap on the empty profile picture, inspecting the number for a bit. There’s no sign of familiarity. A part of you wonders how he looks – maybe glasses, a fedora, and..

“Hiki..”

You feel an unpleasant shiver crawl up your spine, to which you immediately shake your head and reimagine. Perhaps dark circles, overgrown hair..

You sigh, shaking your head again, plopping back onto the sofa.

“Ah.”

You stare at the ceiling.

You remember now.

…

Although it’s a bit of a strange name, perhaps you’ll save his contact as such until he tells you. It’s easier that way.

———