#would not have been able to find any of these without it

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[naamahdarling]

So, the other night in an effort to show a friend that LLMs can produce very credible fiction and relatively inventive ideas, I played with ChatGPT for about 10 minutes I was able to make my point flawlessly. Don't get up my ass about this, that's juvenile.

ChatGPT has watched enough Dropout to be able to reasonably (and genuinely amusingly) impersonate Brennan Lee Mulligan and, to a lesser extent, Sam Reich. It's successfully produced a script for Game Changer where the show was entirely about cats and Brennan couldn't win, and parts of it were actually funny. It also produced an AITA post from the point of view of Brennan Lee Mulligan AS DM OF DIMENSION 20 that was in places absolutely hilarious.

It is able to very successfully postulate a set of G1 my little ponies that do not actually exist, complete with colors, cutie marks, and back card stories. It had a little trouble with G1 versus G4 due to the sheer glut of content, but its ideas were genuinely appealing because the source material it was drawing on was designed to be appealing.

It generated a list of birthday party themes that would terrify an arachnophobe, two or three of which were really good. A request for it to generate a list of queer pride birthday ideas didn't produce anything particularly original, but it was all appropriate and convincing.

It produced a short script where Johnny Sims from the Magnus archives receives birthday gifts from his coworkers, and one of those was a knife-wielding tentacle. This script was in places a little less sharp than the actual writing, but it absolutely nailed the speech patterns, and each gift was appropriate to the character giving it. It was genuinely funny. In places it was clever. It actually made me laugh.

I have most of these saved if anybody wants to see them instead of playing with it themselves.

It really isn't a question of what has been dumped into the data set. We can just assume it has been dumped in there somehow.

We can't undo what has been done and we're never going to be able to name all of the people whose work has been used to train these datasets.

I have both positive and negative feelings, strong ones on both sides, about this technology. If someone wants to use this technology to create a script for a movie in the Predator franchise, or a sequel to their favorite book, or whatever, that is a neutral act. Profiting from that is highly questionable, passing it off as the real thing is completely indefensible, using this technology to replace writers and artists and real people doing ANY work where there is no benefit to humans (like identifying cancer cells -- "AI" does that) is the second worst thing that can be done with it.

That's what worries me about this. It could produce infinite Simpsons episodes without the need for a single writer. Eventually it will be able to animate them so accurately you could ask it to make it look like it had been recorded on a video cassette and it would be completely convincing. It would be able to imitate the voice actors perfectly.

We do not want corporations to have that power. Worker protections are critical. It isn't that AI produces art that is bad or soulless or whatever. Those are completely spurious arguments and irrelevant to any true discussion of whether or not it is ethical.

What matter is is that we keep this shit out of the hands people who want to delete us from the workforce. They aren't going to delete the data. We need to protect workers.

P.S. Artists, Disney and Adobe do not have your best interests at heart. Copyright issues are more complicated than they are being presented, and if you find yourself on the side of one of these companies in any capacity, re-examine literally everything you think immediately. Unions. You want unions.

For reference, because I think it's really important to bring this up as often as possible, the worst application of this technology I can think of would be deliberately or accidentally misapplying data that could be used to affect things like a person's medical care, criminal record, and credit score, all of which are actually currently things that a single company can do, APPRISS, now owned by Equifax, yes that Equifax, and fucking nobody, none of y'all, are freaking out about that even though it's the single most frightening thing I have seen in 20 years. I cannot overstate its potential to utterly destroy the lives of literally anyone who comes into contact with the system that uses it, and those are unbelievably common. They are currently selling their product to law enforcement so that cops and businesses can use it to predict who will engage in criminal behavior, I'm literally not kidding about that, they come right out and say it. It is being trained on existing data and refined constantly.

Enjoy breaking your leg and needing painkillers, which get you flagged in a medical database that will try to prevent you from accessing them in the future (already happening), and also entering you into a law enforcement database that knows you have taken them. Then add in whatever eldritch fuckery bringing credit bureaus into it would cause.

We aren't fucked, I'm not a doomer who insists that all people are terrible and that we have no future and we might as well let things burn, I do actually care about the world we live in and the people who populate it and I consider humans a delight rather than a plague, but we need to start seriously resisting the use of this shit by entities more powerful than us. They are already way ahead.

“I can now say with absolute confidence that many AI systems have been trained on TV and film writers’ work. Not just on The Godfather and Alf, but on more than 53,000 other movies and 85,000 other TV episodes: Dialogue from all of it is included in an AI-training data set that has been used by Apple, Anthropic, Meta, Nvidia, Salesforce, Bloomberg, and other companies. I recently downloaded this data set, which I saw referenced in papers about the development of various large language models (or LLMs). It includes writing from every film nominated for Best Picture from 1950 to 2016, at least 616 episodes of The Simpsons, 170 episodes of Seinfeld, 45 episodes of Twin Peaks, and every episode of The Wire, The Sopranos, and Breaking Bad.”

😡

[ihavemanyhusbands]

for a lucius fic/blurb maybe he was betrothed to a girl before he was sent away and them reuniting after the events of the movie

OMG YES THANK YOU!!! This is divineeee im gonna make it a lil angsty (with happy ending though)

———

In all the years he’d been gone, he had never stopped counting the days until he saw you -- his betrothed, the love of his life -- again. Both of you had been young when your engagement was arranged, meant to marry when you were of age. You were the daughter of a senator who was close to Emperor Marcus Aurelius, his grandfather, and you had been friends since infancy.

He remembered playing in the gardens together, chasing butterflies, picking flowers for your mothers, and feeding the fish in the vivarium. Endless days of laughter, without worry of what the future might bring. At least you had each other, and there was comfort in thinking it would be for the rest of your lives.

But everything changed after the death of Maximus, the gladiator who had slayed his uncle, Emperor Commodus. Staying in Rome as a youth was far too dangerous, as many would attempt to assassinate him for the throne. His mother Lucilla's last act of love was to save him, even it it meant there was a possibility he would never come back.

Unfortunately, though, that meant he did not have time to say goodbye to you; to vow his everlasting fidelity. In Numidia, the breeze blowing in from the sea whispered your name, and he swore he could almost see your face -- as he remembered it in youth -- where the sky and the water met on the horizon.

The resulting rage and guilt fueled him as he started training, becoming stronger and more cunning over the years. He vowed his revenge against the Roman armies, fiercely defending the country that housed him.

Their arrival had been both a curse and a blessing, but only because they took him back with them. In the sands of the Colosseum, he fought harder than ever before in order to prove himself.

It was torture being unable to find you, wondering day and night where you might be in the great city. But once again, he let it fuel him, hellbent on taking down any enemy that might stand in his path.

It wasn't until the first game he participated in that Fate seemed to smile upon the two of you, and you saw each other across a great distance. Him in the arena and you sitting on the second tier with your father.

Your eyes widened in recognition and you couldn't look away. You almost stood but stopped yourself in order not to bring any unwanted attention to yourself. You absently grabbed your throat, your heart thundering fiercely with a maelstrom of emotions.

"Lucius..." you murmured, your voice barely audible.

"Did you say something, dear?" Your father asked, glancing at you curiously.

You shook your head, but an icy dread spread throughout you as beasts were released into the arena. Lucius nodded at you just barely before he had to tear his gaze away, his sword at the ready. The way he fought was precise and ruthless, reminiscent of his father, Maximus.

You anxiously looked towards the Emperor's box, seeing Queen Lucilla come to the same realization. You desperately hoped you would be able to speak to her, so the two of you might find a way to speak to Lucius.

You sat at the edge of your seat the entire time, watching him fight his way to victory. You couldn't help but cheer with the crowd, immensely relieved, but covering it up with infectious enthusiasm. Lucius looked to you once again before he was forced to leave the arena, silently vowing to get to you, no matter the cost.

Under the cover of night, and with some help from General Acacius, some of your father's guards accompanied you to the underground cells where Macrinus kept his gladiators.

The gate to Lucius' cell was opened and you stepped in, making him immediately stand from his cot. Tears sprang to your eyes, a sound that was half sob and half laugh escaping you.

"Lucius!" you said as he embraced you, kissing you desperately.

You kissed him back as tears of happiness tracked down your cheeks. You pulled apart to look at each other, taking in the evidence of time on your features. Your hands cradled his face tenderly, seeing the boy you remembered beneath the man that now stood in front of you.

"I can't believe you're here," you said as he kissed your palms. "We have to get you out."

His jaw clenched in rage and frustration. "I have to earn my freedom in the arena, it is the only way for me."

You let out a sound of despair, trying not to break down sobbing. "But surely General Acacius can--"

He shook his head. "No one can know who I am. At least, not yet. There is too much at stake."

You grabbed both of his hands and held them against your chest.

"My heart belongs to you, Lucius Verus Aurelius," you said solemnly. "I have always been yours, and I intend to marry you no matter your status."

He swallowed thickly, pulling you in for another kiss as he realized time was running out. He leaned his forehead against yours, holding you as close as possible.

"I love you," he said. "Nothing could keep me from you.”

“Then promise me you’ll live.”

He promised, intending to see it through. There simply was no other way. Even through the most grueling trials that followed, losing one too many people in his life, he prevailed. He rightfully claimed the throne of Rome, ridding it of the threats that almost were its downfall.

And his first act as Emperor was to marry you in the palace’s gardens under the night sky, with only the Gods as witnesses. The way it was always meant to be, your fates written in the stars.

————-

[merakiui]

a little scenario that’s been floating around in my head for a bit (◕ᴗ◕✿) soft non con with hybrid wolf Jade and a bunny girl darling…

Jade who’s going into rut, delirious and no way to properly relieve himself without a mate… maybe a walk through the forest will help him clear his head! He’s barely managing in his condition ;( all hot and stumbling over himself… this was a bad idea. maybe he should just find someplace to lay down. But he spots a little bunny girl in the bushes and next thing he knows his legs are working again and he’s chasing her through the forest!

The poor thing is trembling and kicking at him, but she’s no match for Jade’s strength! Surely she’s about to be eaten! But he’s more horny than hungry orz and she’s only slightly less fearful when he’s suddenly burying his face between her thighs. He’s not gonna eat her but he still wants a taste! She’s so small and soft and warm… and smells SO good. He won’t listen to her protests but is being surprisingly… gentle… doing his best to prep and stretch her out with his fingers (｡>﹏<) but it’s still so much when he’s finally inside!

Jade’s cooing sweet praises at her for taking him so well between pathetic whining and panting ( ;´ - `;) he wants to be slow but he can’t… it’s the sweetest relief he’s known! He passes out soon after knotting her, and after the swelling went down enough she took her chance to escape! He’s disappointed to see that she’s already gone when he wakes up :(

It’s a relief for her to still be alive after that encounter, but not so much in the following months… She better pray that she never runs into him again, cuz if Jade sees how pregnant she is with his pups he’s sure as hell not letting his little bunny girl escape a second time (๑-﹏-๑)

👁 👁 AAAAA THIS IS A FEAST!!!!! Anon, you have no idea how down bad I am for bunny x wolf dynamic…… orz and with wolf Jade as well,,, it’s over for me. OTL small bunnygirl with a belly full of pups… so heavily pregnant that all of the other bunnies in your village marvel over how you’re able to hold so many, all of them assuming those are baby bunnies. No one knows anything about the wolf you encountered and you won’t tell anyone because you’re too scared, fearing that the others in your village will panic if they think you led a wolf into your safe, peaceful home. >_<

But sometimes it really is so difficult to stand for long periods of time or do lots of work without breaks, and you have the appetite of a wolf now with so many pups!! You’re only a few months along, but you look like you’re at the end of your pregnancy, fit to burst and give birth any moment. You avoid doctor appointments because you worry they’ll be able to tell what really happened even though everything is completely confidential and Dr. Rosehearts would never do such a thing!

Aaaaa imagine instead of encountering Jade again it’s his twin brother…… Floyd who only finds you because you smell familiar (like a wolf or maybe like his family), so he’s confused when he parts the bushes to find…a bunny??? And you panic because you think it’s him—the wolf who chased you down and fucked into you like a mindless beast. Floyd who tries to speak softly and sweetly to get you to calm down. You’re so pregnant. He doesn’t want to stress you out. :< maybe you can come back to his home and he can make you something nice to eat as an apology for spooking you. You must be starving, right?

Wolf Floyd who unintentionally leads you right to Jade. :)

[our-hextech-dream]

i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.

[gwemmieee]

Yeah. I have a big bone to pick with women who go out of their way to gatekeep someone out of our club. Most of them are cis and straight, but trans fems who do this unfortunately exist. That instance looks like some disgusting hypocrisy to me, because most baby trans fems really emotionally lean on the willingness of this community to emphasize that you are your gender and you are valid no matter how many steps you've already taken and been successful with. That is a crucial, supportive message, and suppressing it in any way is tantamount to pulling up the ladder behind you. Which, yeah, every community has its assholes who pull up ladders.

It is also a tough line to walk sometimes for women, because most of us have learned that there are certain ways we can't entirely just open up to most masculine folks and let them into our entire lives and every space. Not without a lot of pain. So we are incentivized to wait until someone makes it clear that they're safe, before they're let into our inner lives more. This function has caused me SO much strife, because before I was accepted as a woman, it kept me outside in the cold, alone, really close to an early grave, but now that I am fully living as a woman, and even before I was doing that, my efforts to ignore this function entirely and just let any masculine person into my heart, my inner world, and my safest spaces, have not always gone well, and sometimes those efforts have backfired, made me unsafe, and deeply traumatized me.

These days, the only conclusion I've been able to find is that women need to work on what we recognize as red and green flags, for who is safe. It's pretty easy to see that the average set of red and green flags you see most non-queer white women adhere to are... crap. Truly crap. Delusional, not based in reality, etc. And that sucks because it isolates them more and it gives them more excuse to be really shitty to people, or to gossip about them in ways that really aren't fair to them.

Earlier in my transition, I still had it internalized that I had had so much trouble because I wasn't good enough, because I didn't do enough, and that's why women didn't let me in. But I was literally running around freely saying out loud that I was genderfluid, that I had no concept of manhood and little concept of gender, that I thought it would be cool if I was born as a woman, that I wanted other pronouns to be used on me, that I could be pretty gay/queer, acting pretty gay/queer, openly rejecting most masculine behaviors and modes of thought, constantly openly celebrating femininity, experimenting with gender presentation... I was a very queer little dude. And I've only been able to recognize that in retrospect. Because nobody let me in. Trans fems may have let me in, but they weren't around much in the late 00s and early 10s. I never met one. But I did meet and usually deeply connect with countless fellow eggs, before any of us knew. In situations like mine, trans fems generally didn't even get to find themselves until a bisexual cis woman took it upon herself to date them as a perceived man, and then recognize their queerness and allow them to explore gender with her acceptance and assistance. Because being allowed into womanhood was so rare and taboo that it had to happen behind closed doors as part of a romantic relationship. I was aro/ace, and I unconsciously looked to get the same experience out of a platonic friendship, but all I got was led on. Told I was a close friend but still treated like a stray animal compared to their feminine friends. Not let in.

Meanwhile, cis women, and fem-raised queer folks who at the time universally saw themselves as, yknow proudly not quite men at least, universally treated me like a burly cis man deserving of none of their support or curiosity and all of their suspicion and gossip about how "he's creepy." Consistently. Until I finally came out as a woman in 2022. And that's so 100% on them. They went out of their way to not see me for who I was and just keep me out in the cold. So yeah. The state of gatekeeping of womanhood is *bad*. And in my experience, most of it comes from people who had/have easy access to unquestioned claims of womanhood, whether that's because they're AFAB or because their transition into womanhood was really fast and made them really conventionally attractive.

But what about trans fems? Well, we aren't perfect with our red and green flags, either. It's hard to be. Personally, I've noticed there is a small contingent (VERY small) of trans fems my age who operate more like the old world transsexuals in that they really are truscum gatekeepers, often also ableist, and borderline psychopathic in the level of emotional labor they expect from you as a friend vs. what they're willing to put up with in return. And that is very unfortunate. My early transition saw a lot of them genuinely help me as incredible new friends, but then hurt me badly and burn bridges for no good reason. And I feel that there is a bit of a schism in the trans fem community between elders who usually just want to stealth out--who look down on baby transes and cringe and don't help us, or even if they do talk to us and help, there is still a very clear line denominating their actual friends and community that we never get to cross into--and the rest of us who openly embrace being queer and not assimilating all the way. But, frankly? Most trans fems I've met are the most welcoming and least gatekeeping folks on the planet. Most are that latter, queerer camp. And we operate exactly the way that we should: we let anyone safe into our inner world, even if that safe person happens to be a man. And some of us STILL see that backfire. And so even we can't be completely carefree. But we can always learn and grow and get better and better at what we actually identify as red and green flags.

wait where are all the trans guys

Historical-anthropological research, especially the work taking place before the 21st century or outside the West, tends to focus entirely on transfeminized groups. So when reading these works it’s pretty natural to ask — wait, where are all the trans guys? This is a reasonable question with a few clear answers; this post is something quick I can point people to.

The central condition of transfeminized groups' absorption into feminist activism has been to accept a kind of symmetry with select TME groups through the understanding of trans femininity as "gender variance." Under this framework, transfeminized groups' social position can be understood as a consequence of gender variance and some abstract violation of cis norms; this was proposed by people like Susan Stryker and Emi Koyama [1], among others, and continues to structure trans inclusion today. It also fails when considering several basic aspects of these groups:

Transfeminized groups are associated with hyperspecific labor practices, most frequently sex work, but also hair styling, drag, makeup artistry, acting, and other forms of 'gender work.'

Metropolitan transfeminized groups appear in the archive as highly clustered and active groups connected with, but usually intensely split from, the masculine men they fucked.

Transfeminized groups become a kind of 'third gender' on an epistemic level; they are Known to wider society before and after “coming out” in a way that USAmerican transmasculinity has only recently vaguely approached.

Transfeminized groups are heavily clustered in labor practice, social organization, and epistemic position, although this is not universal -- certain strains of USAmerican transfemininity have become a bit more labor-agnostic in the last two decades, not-so-coincidentally alongside more general currents of gender-labor liberation. The messy strains of trans male identity recovered from the archive and from current practice tend to lack labor, social, and epistemic coherence. As Aaron Devor notes in FTM, his 1997 history of FTM men, trans men in the 20th century tended to transition out of cities and into the countryside, finding low-profile places they could exist in. These practices, and the earlier "female husband" practices described by Jen Manion, relied on the labor-agnostic nature of transitioned manhood in order to disappear from public life. Transfeminized groups, on the other hand, are categorically restricted from the main form of economic life historically available to women -- marriage. Their labor practices are heavily constrained and have almost always revolved around some form of 'gender work:' as Susan Stryker put it, you need to get people to pay you for being a trans woman. Transmasculinity pushes away feminized restrictions on labor; trans femininity is labor.

Because transfeminized identities are so often labor-identities, and because their specific brand of 'gender work' and hormonal/silicone/surgical embodiment usually requires both specialized training and community support, nearly every metropolitan center in the world developed highly centralized transfeminized groups over the course of the 20th century [2]. As Ochoa notes, this visibility is partially due to epistemic visibility (everyone knows what a trans is), partially due to group structure (people work and train each other), and partially due to the selectively visible demands of finding clients. Fledglings come in with a way of being that is always already visible to society, but changing the body to match and learning how to fully enact and slowly contest the third-gender labor-identity they've been given takes a lot of community support.

So as labor-identities, transfeminized groups tend to a level of labor/community/epistemic coherence that has no clear counterpart. The news archives we have of trans men (as seen in Manion) position them as singular and easily absorbed back into the female gestalt; the cisgender feminist/gayguy/AIDS researchers that form the bulk of historical-anthropological work saw them as unnecessary to their grand theories of gender; the communities themselves have been materially fractured and, for the groups that rise out of lesbian-feminist activism, only partially committed to their own existence. The result of all this is that there is no clear equivalent to the "transfeminized groups" of Jules-Gill Peterson; there is no symmetry to trannydom, and while additional work to unearth trans manhood in the archive remains extremely valuable, sometimes the necessary level of label-coherence and social existence just isn't there.

[1] Stryker, "My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage," Emi Koyama, "The Transfeminist Manifesto" [2] As seen in Namaste, Invisible Lives, Prieur, "Mema's House, Mexico City," Kulick, "Travesti," Newton, "Mother Camp," Ochoa, "Queen for a Day," Hegarty, "The Made-Up State," and plenty more. Most of these works came out in the late 80s and 90s due to a combination of the feminist "third gender" craze, the burgeoning field of masculinity studies, and AIDS.

[simspaghetti]

This has been a long time coming, I've been wanting to make something like this for ages and I finally had some time over the weekend to get it done - I dunno how useful this will be for anyone else, but hopefully at least a few other people might find this template handy!

Here's a full size picture of what the blank template looks like:

I made a couple examples of what it can look like edited over screenshots - as you can see you can just resize the boxes & text as you like to get the ideal final product:

Instructions for use:

This is a .psd file, and as such it needs to be opened in an editing tool that allows that file format - I personally use photopea which is a free online alternative to adobe photoshop - Disclaimer: I haven't tried using it any other editing software like photoshop / gimp but it'll probably work in there too, if you have any problems in those apps lmk and I'll try and fix it!

Each section of the template is separated into folders, open these up and you can edit the text / image elements for each section, you'll need to hide and unhide layers to be able to do this (the little eye icon next to a layer toggles it to be hidden / unhidden)

If you need to resize the boxes, make sure to hold down the shift-key so that you're able to do it more precisley

I have included icons for every career in the sims 3 including all of the expansion packs, however I have not included the skill images you might need as that would be a bit too extensive

For the skill images, I recommend downloading this ultimate icon collection from ModTheSims, as it'll almost definetly have everything you could possibly need to use :)

Terms of Use:

Please don’t claim as your own or reupload without my permission, I’d love to see you use them in your game if you do choose to tag me - but that's totally optional :) Alter and customize the templates literally however you want, but if you’re gonna reupload a downloadable variation of them I’d appreciate a link back to my blog

Download Here (Simfileshare, .psd file)

The font used for this template is DM Sans, it can be found in all variations here - I only used 'bold' & 'bold italic'

Credits: Heavily inspired by the gorgeous Clean UI created by JustMiha, as well as these promotion templates for TS4 by CupidJuice - and thanks to TheSpiritRealm on MTS for compiling all the icons I used - and total credit goes to EA / Maxis for the icon designs as well I did not make those lol

[jhilsara]

Of Bookstore, Coffees, and Late Nights pt. 3

Sunshine!Reader/Southern!Reader/Plus Sized!Reader

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: Another year goes by and your friendship with Spencer is better than ever… too bad its a rough year. A birthday surprise, another Halloween adventure together (but make it a musical), Sister fights, and you finally find out what Spencer's day job is.

Word Count: 11.5k

Warnings: Canon typical BAU themes, sick family members, bank robbery, Season 7 finale

Previous|Next

The one where Spencer turns 30  

Spencer hasn’t left his apartment much lately. Besides going out for calls at the BAU and working on finding Ian Doyle, he doesn’t have much energy for anything else. Except for the new doctor he was seeing for his migraines. She was actually helpful in comparison to the others he had seen.   

It’s only been four months since Emily Prentiss died and Spencer doesn’t feel any lighter. He just seems to be spending more time debating on whether he’d feel better if he started using again. At least he’d be numb. Feeling numb sounded better than being miserably sad at the loss of one of his closest friends. He knows in the back of his mind, if he did start using dilaudid again he wouldn’t be able to truly put his all into the Ian Doyle investigation. That’s what keeps him content to stay sober.   

Spencer hasn’t visited the bookstore, not nearly as much as he used to. It’s enough to cause worry so you’ve started to call him at least once a week. He’s sure that you probably wanted to call every day. You worry and fret over him, and he knows it’s just a part of who you are, but he doesn’t feel deserving of the attention.   

Especially when you take it upon yourself to visit occasionally.   

He always opens the door for you, he can’t help it, he doesn’t want to worry you. Even though when he looks at your face, he sees the clear concern behind your eyes.   

He always knows when it’s you because your warmth and brightness almost roll off in waves that gently brush and seep under the doorway. You’re a force of nature. One where you shed some color into his incredibly bleak world.   

The only other friend who checks on him in the same kind of way would be Penelope. Which, she’s grieving in a very different way. It’s also hard for any of them to talk about Emily together without it being tainted by their Doyle investigation. He knows this isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but he’ll be damned if he stops looking for the man that took away part of his family.    

There’s an ease and tenderness that comes with you. You've never pushed him to tell you what’s wrong. You'll ask, always testing the waters, shaking his raft, but you never push. You don’t force him down into the depths of his own consuming thoughts. The ones where he thinks he’s drowning and can’t recover from. The ones where all of his intrusive thoughts prick at his brain like tiny needles, trying to prove nonexistent points.   

It wasn’t that you weren’t curious, because you definitely are. Sometimes when he closed off the conversation, he could see the hurt in your eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, because Spencer would trust you with anything, you’re his best friend outside of the BAU. He even spent last New Years with you and your dad, Big Joe. Well, mostly you had made dinner, they watched Big Joe’s favorite movie, which Spencer happily listened to him give all his endless movie knowledge. After you put your dad to bed, they went out to a bar for a few midnight drinks.    

Spencer just preferred to keep the FBI parts of his life out of his personal life. It’s been refreshing to not be a federal agent when he’s with you. If he had to explain everything about Ian Doyle and Emily’s death... he was slightly afraid you wouldn’t want him in your life anymore.    

Or worse, he’d endanger you like Hotch had with Haley...   

So, Spencer does what he truly does best, holds his feelings close to his chest with his secrets. If your smile faltered when he couldn’t tell you what was happening, he’d bite his tongue. He couldn’t lose another friend. Not you. Even if his secrets kept you at arm's length.   

-   

It’s a random day in the middle of August when Spencer finally walks back into the bookstore. It surprised you so much you ram yourself into the edge of the checkout counter. You curse under your breath but shoot him a hesitant smile.    

“Hey, haven’t seen you in a while.” you softly said as you placed the books down to give him your full attention. Almost approaching him like he is a wounded animal. 

Spencer nods, “world keeps spinning, life goes on.” he said with a small shrug and a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.   

He couldn’t tell you that his dead friend faked her death and was alive all along. Just in Paris... while two of his friends lied to his face. That absolutely isn’t a can of worms he’s willing to unload onto you. Not today, maybe not ever. He still had some anger to process that he doesn’t want to direct towards you. Spencer takes a deep breath and starts walking toward the cafe.    

You followed after him and smiled brightly. “Well, I’m glad to see you anyway.” you touch his shoulder lightly. “I’ve been worried about you.” you said warmly as you move behind the counter to make him a coffee.    

“I didn’t want to worry you,” He starts to rebuttal, but you cut him off.    

“I was going to worry regardless; I don’t know how to turn it off unfortunately.” you tried to joke lightly.    

Spencer just furrows his brows, “Do you worry about everything?” he asked. It comes across harsher than he means it to, but it rolls off your back.    

“No, just about people. I’m worried about Birdie, like all the time, not to mention dad. I’m also constantly thinking about my coworkers, Josie... My friends in Georgia...” you pause and bites your lip.    

“That probably sounds like I don’t do anything else besides worry.”    

“It sounds like anxiety.” he deadpanned.    

You shrugged and offered him his coffee. “Probably.”    

“Oh! Spencer, since you’re here!” you quickly change the subject whirling around to the computer, “Do me a favor and sign up for our new rewards program. I need a test guinea pig to make sure it actually tracks the points.”    

Spencer nods and waits. You swiftly tap information into the computer screen.    

“It’s only a few questions,” you murmured, “Full name...Spencer Reid. Date of birth-” you froze looking up at Spencer.   

“I don’t know your birthday.” you said it like it was a genuine surprise and frown. “We’ve known each other for almost three years, how do I not know your birthday?”   

Spencer gave a soft chortle of amusement, “I’ve never been in town for my birthday. I’m weirdly always out for work. Besides-” he shrugged. “I don’t know yours either.”    

You dramatically groan. “I cannot believe I didn’t know this! Birthdays are so important!”    

Spencer tilts his head curiously, “I didn’t know you liked birthdays that much?”   

“Don’t you? It’s the one day to truly celebrate a person. I mean you don’t need a day to do that, but doesn’t everyone want to feel special just one day? I mean you make your way around life another year and you should earn just a little treat for it! Living sucks sometimes.” you said matter of factly.    

You're so passionate as you talk, Spencer almost forgets it’s even about birthdays.     

Spencer paused before his brain autofill's information like a search engine, “Did you know that the birthday celebration actually started in ancient Egypt with Pharoh's? It wasn’t for common folk at all. They acted as a coronation for a Pharoh. Greeks and Romans adopted them for their worship of the gods but really, individual birthdays weren’t well known. For a long time in history.” Spencer info dumps what he knew and smiled triumphantly.    

You nod, listening, you always listened to Spencer when he had the wealth of knowledge to just disperse whenever. It was charming.   

“Sooooooo, what I’m hearing is, we should celebrate everyone like they are their own gods?” you tease him.   

Spencer rolls his eyes, “Not what I meant.”    

You hummed in amusement, “Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” You smiled, like you had a secret. “What’s your birthday Spencer?”    

“October 12th 1981.” He tells you with a sigh.    

You plug it into the computer, and you realize quickly that Spencer’s about to turn 30. You looked up at him, “That’s only a few months away. Makes sense it’s October.”    

Spencer fakes a dramatic gasp as he looks at you in shock, “What’s that supposed to mean?”    

You give him a deadpan look as you finish typing in the rest of his information. “It means- that for someone who loves Halloween it doesn’t surprise me you were born in October.”    

“What’s your e-mail?” you asked him.    

“I only have my work one and I’m not using that for your rewards program.” He said in fake exasperation, “By your logic,” he picked back up their conversation, “that means you also were born in October.”    

You make a fake buzzer noise, “Nope!” you pop the P. “Try again.”   

Spencer raises a brow, “There is a 1 in 365 chance for me to guess right. That’s not even one percent.”    

“Do you care if I just put in my e-mail? We’re just testing it, I’m doing it anyway.” you tap away at the computer, “Also- ever heard of a zodiac sign? Thats at least like 1 in 12 chances. Better odds.” you gave him a pointed look.   

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously making me guess zodiac signs?”    

You wiggled your brows, “What? The genius doesn’t believe in the fate of the stars.” you smirked to yourself as you typed away at the computer.   

“Do you actively want me to stereotype you?” He asked with a teasing smile of his own.   

“Tik tok, it’s either guess the sign or the date.” you joke.    

“You’re stubborn enough, let’s say Taurus.” he replied with a snark.    

You rolled your eyes and made a tsk sound, “Nice try, but WRONG. I’m a Cancer. A summertime baby even though I hate hate hate summer.” you groan thinking about the heat.    

“Then your logic definitely doesn’t make sense.” He laughed in exasperation.   

You shrugged, “never said I was right.”    

Spencer glared playfully, “No but it was implied.”   

You just brush him off. Finishing up the rewards program. “I think it works. It should track your drink purchases, and every tenth drink is free!” you said excitedly.    

“You never charge me for my drinks.” He reminded you with a look of mild confusion.   

“Shhhh, don’t let the other customers know I have favorites! They’ll get their feelings hurt!”    

-   

You’ve been scheming since you found out Spencer’s birthday. 30 was a milestone and you weren’t about to let him go by without even an itsy bitsy teenie weenie celebration. You weren’t going to throw a surprise party or anything. After the fiasco that was a friend's surprise party when they were 21 you vowed to never again. The last thing you had expected was for everyone to find out that your friend's roommate was cheating. Screaming surprise to a pair of twentysomethings trying to eat each other’s faces and their actual boyfriend being in the room was rough.    

You learned no more surprises the hard way.   

The only surprise you had was you were determined to have Josie bake one of her delicious cakes for him. You begged Josie, just a small chocolate cake with a gorgeous violet frosting. Nothing too insane, Josie just was the best baker you knew. Her cakes were to die for, but most of her pastries were.    

Josie agreed, but only if you agreed to take the deposits to the bank for the Holiday season. You lived closer and Josie hated dealing with the general population outside of what she had already seen during the holidays.     

You've been hiding Spencer’s cake in the back freezer for a day, hoping he wouldn’t be out of town for his birthday. You had called him earlier in the week and asked him to swing by on Wednesday if he could. You had told him you really needed a taste tester for your new Halloween treat. Sugar was Spencer’s weakness.    

You're pacing back and forth, trying to not be on edge, but you’re riddled with so much excitement it’s hard. You've been decorating the new display case filled with Halloween themed books. You are hanging up a garland in the window display when you see Spencer walking down the street.    

You quickly finished hanging up your ghost garland and quickly ran to the back freezer to get his cake out to let it defrost a bit. You throw candles and a lighter on the counter in the back room and you try to make sure everything is set and ready to go.    

The bell rings all the way through to the back and you compose yourself before stepping out again. You stick your head out the back door that divides the cafe from the back kitchen and waves to Spencer.    

“Back here!” you shout.   

The bookstore only had a few patrons tonight, none of which were happily there to hang out or study. They were perusing the isles, and you had already given them a few recommendations of books. You know an insomniac when you see one, and these people were the kind that needed something besides the empty fridge to look at for their late-night brain. It was later than normal, around two in the morning, when Spencer came walking in.    

“I almost thought you weren’t coming by tonight.” you tease leaning against the counter.    

“It was a late work trip.” He said with a tired smile.    

“Well, I have a treat for you. Taste testing if you will.” you said, turning to the back room.    

“I need you to close your eyes though. I’m really proud of it.”    

Spencer rolls his eyes at your antics but does as you’ve asked.    

“No peaking!” you shouted, and Spencer could hear the door to the back close behind you.    

You check the cake, and it's good to go. The back freezer wasn’t cold enough to freeze it solid, so the cake is still easy to cut. you press the candles into the top, a three and a zero to make 30. You slowly light the candles and back up to bring the cake out. You gently set it down in front of Spencer, who’s just standing there with his eyes closed and a goofy grin.     

“Okay, open.”    

Spencer opens his eyes, and he looks stunned. His mouth just kind of hangs open like a gaping fish before he murmured, “This isn’t a Halloween treat...”    

“Happy birthday Spencer.” you whisper looking at his reaction and trying to gauge it. “I didn’t make your cake, Josie did, but I promise her cakes are the very best.”    

Spencer was stunned into silence. He truly didn’t expect you to remember his birthday, or know he was turning 30. Hell, even his team wasn’t aware it was his birthday until Emily told them. Which, he does appreciate her listening to him. He was having a crisis over his own accomplishments.   

You start getting antsy when Spencer doesn’t respond. He’s standing there with his mouth open. You start rambling, “I just thought, you know, 30 is a big deal! It’s a milestone and I didn’t get to celebrate your past two birthdays so I thought this would be a nice treat... I know I didn’t ask if you even like surprises, but it was so small-”    

Spencer cuts her off.    

“Sorry, I just... thank you.” He tells you with a soft smile. “I love it.”    

Your eyes light up and you brush your hair out of your face. The nerves leaving your body.    

“Make a wish Spencer.”    

Spencer doesn’t have to think about it as he blows out his candles.    

“What did you wish for?” you asked, grabbing a knife to cut his cake.    

Spencer raised a brow, “Well if I tell you, it won’t come true.”    

You roll your eyes, “Didn’t peg you to be superstitious.”    

Spencer just shrugged at that and bit his lip. If his wish had to do with you, well, you didn’t need to know.    

The one about Rocky Horror Picture Show  

Spencer’s sorting through the collection of DVD’s you’ve brought over for their movie night. You brought an eclectic mixed taste of Halloween movies, from Hocus Pocus to Insidious. Spencer pauses on Rocky Horror Picture Show and you make a noise of excitement.    

“Oh, we should watch it! I’m going to the showing next weekend and I’m so excited.” you said, reaching for the bowl of popcorn.    

“I didn’t know they still showed it in movie theaters, I’ve never been.” he said casually popping open the case to grab the DVD.   

“What do you mean you haven’t seen Rocky Horror Picture Show? It’s like quintessentially a Halloween staple.” you said in abject horror.    

Spencer is once again being berated for his lack of pop culture knowledge. To be fair, he does know the movie. So, he isn’t fully aware of why you are looking at him like he has two heads.   

“I’ve seen the movie. I know what it is.” He gives a scoff and shakes his head.    

“No, that’s not what I mean. Why haven’t you ever been to a local show? It’s iconic!” you said exaggeratedly.   

Spencer rolled his eyes. “My job doesn’t always let me preplan my events well. Besides, it can’t be much different than watching the movie at home.” He said turning to press play on the DVD player.   

You audibly gasp standing up from the couch.    

“Spencer Reid, that is blasphemous! You are absolutely coming with me to a viewing of Rocky Horror, like immediately.” you demand planting your hands on your hips and shooting him a playful glare.    

“What makes it so different?” He cocked his head in confusion, brows furrowed. “It’s a musical from the 70’s that barely makes sense in the plot line and some of the verbiage is really outdated, borderline offensive really.” He states matter of factly.   

You sighed, “You don’t understand art! It’s about the experience of the show, it’s such a great time going to a live show and seeing everyone in costume and singing together, chanting, using props! It’s one of the best things to be in a room of similar people just having fun.” you told him in a dreamy voice.   

Spencer nodded, still not fully getting your image, moving to go sit on the couch, “I didn’t know they were so... performative.”    

“They are some of my favorite shows I’ve been to. Especially bringing new people.” you plop back down on the couch next to him.    

“Why?” he asked, turning to watch the opening credits, leaning down to grab his late-night coffee that wasn’t nearly as good as what you make in the cafe.   

“Because they’re virgins.” You said it like it was so obvious. Like it was a fact as simple as the sky is blue.   

Spencer almost chokes on his coffee.    

“Excuse me?” he asks a little baffled.    

You roll your eyes, “When someone is brought to a live show and they’ve never been, they’re a virgin. There’s even a silly virgin ritual that’s super fun. The whole nights a blast.”    

Spencer goes quiet, his face bursting into a red flush, “It’s not... it’s not like a sex thing, is it?”    

Your laugh filters through his apartment bright and loud. You shake your head, “God no Spencer! I’m not going to some crazy orgy almost every year.”    

Spencer started coughing and looked at you with wide eyes, “I wasn’t implying that you- I-... shit.”    

You just shake your head still trying to control your laughter, “Well you have to come with me now Spencer, to heal my wounded ego. I’m going on Halloween. Dress up please?” you asked with a bat of your lashes.   

Spencer covers his face in embarrassment but nods, “Okay, okay, okay. I’ll go. Can we please just watch the movie now?”    

“Can do.” you snickered settling back into the comfort of his couch.   

-   

Before you can leave, you have a few things you need to check first. Spencer is picking you up to walk to the theater together, which is sweet. You go to check on your dad before leaving.    

You knock gently on your father's door before opening it a crack, “Daddy?” you whisper.   

Big Joe is passed out in his bed, the television still playing faintly in the background of some sports game. His snores letting you know he was out for the night.   

You shake your head with a sigh before going in to turn off his television and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.    

“Love you, I’ll be back later.” you whispered.     

You check your outfit one last time in the mirror, looking at her Janet inspired pajamas. She was wearing tights, a silk slip dress, and wrapped in a similar silk night gown. You were going as Janet in her under garments, but something you were okay with wearing in public. You throw your long coat over it to keep yourself warm.    

You hear Spencer’s gentle knock on the door, and you quickly move to grab the last few items. You grab your large tote bag, double checking to make sure you have all the props you wanted to bring. You look in your wallet to make sure you have both tickets, and you feel confident.    

You slide on your heels and open the door to greet Spencer.    

“Hey! I’m ready.” you greet excitedly, moving to close the door behind you.   

You look at Spencer and see he’s dressed as Brad from the start of the movie, glasses and all. You grin as you tilt your head.    

“I didn’t know you wear glasses?” you said with a tiny smile pointing at his face.   

Spencer shrugged, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” he said holding out his arm for you.    

“A gentleman too!” you faked a gasp as you wrapped your arms around his. “To the theater!” you proclaim with an exaggerated drawl of your accent.   

It’s not the shortest of walks, but the duo arrives at the theater only a little chilly. Mostly you, even under your coat. You present the tickets, and they are quickly ushered inside. You immediately relax, feeling the warmth of the heater.    

You move to hang up your coat on the rake and Spencer catches what your actual costume is. His face flushed a bit.    

“You, you look great.” He almost chokes on his words as he compliments you.    

You do a little spin, your loose robe fanning out around you. “Thought it would be cute and comfy!” you tell him with a proud smile.    

You come back up to Spencer to link their arms together again, “Come on let’s go find our seats! I wanna make sure I have the props in the right order.” you looked up at him with unbridled excitement that’s just too contagious.    

Spencer just gives a nod, “Lead the way, Janet.”    

“Aren’t you just a peach Brad!” you responded without missing a beat.    

Everything about this movie experience is the exact opposite of what Spencer would expect when going to see a film. Almost everyone in the crowd was dressed and just as many were carrying around props.    

Your bag was filled with rice, newspapers, playing cards, he was honestly impressed by the Mary Poppins effect. He couldn’t see the bottom and every time you pulled something out, he really thought you had hit the end.   

The Time Warp plays, and you drag him out of his seat to dance together. The whole room ignited into a loud cacophony of singing. Your laughter is the only sound he can hear pierce through, and he finds himself smiling alongside you.    

Once that musical number ends, they almost fall back into their seats, you lean closer to him and whispers in his ear, “Are you having fun?”   

He turns and nods, bending down to grab some left-over rice to toss at you playfully. “It’s a blast.” he laughs.   

You squeeze his arm, “I’m glad.”    

The evening is chaotic, loud, and so so so messy. By the time the movie ends the theater is a real mess. You grab as many of the large props as you can and shove them back into your bag, trying to make the clean-up at least a bit easier.    

Once they’re outside, and you’re wrapped back up in your coat, Spencer takes a deep breath.    

“Soooooooooo?” you start, giving him an expectant look.   

“I had a lot of fun. I totally get the theater experience.” He chuckled looking over at you.   

“Good! Maybe we can make it a tradition.” You said giving him a gently nudge with your elbow.   

“You mean add more activities to our Halloween calendar? How will we ever find room!” He says in jest.    

You shrugged lazily with a dramatic sigh. “We’re just too festive Spencer.”   

“Clearly, we’re going to have to start Halloween in September next year.” He suggested.   

“Oh, that would give me something to look forward to!” you said in excitement.   

Spencer walks you home and drops you off at the foot of the apartment.    

“Thanks again Spencer. It was so much fun going with someone again.” you tell him with a soft smile. “I haven’t been able to go with anyone since we moved here.”   

Spencer steps forward to brush your hair out of your face, “I love spending Halloween with you.” he whispered.   

Your face bursts into a deep flush as you can feel your heart almost beat out of your chest. “Goodnight Spencer.”   

“Goodnight, Y/N.”   

The one where Birdie visits  

You're cleaning some dishes left over from breakfast when the doorbell rings. You sigh, knowing it’s far too early for Spencer to come by to pick you up for lunch. It has to be Bridget. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect, since you had just dropped your father off for a checkup.   

Your baby sister had called last night asking if their dad would be home tomorrow. You were too hopeful to think that meant Bridget was trying to spend time with their dad. It’s like pulling teeth trying to get Bridget to spend some time with their dad. Since he’s been diagnosed it’s almost like she can’t stand to be in the same room as him. Big Jo tries to not let it hurt his feelings, but you see his face and how he deflates.    

The day she came by, and he was in a wheelchair, it was like they’d both been hit by a truck.    

You plant a forced smile on your face as you answer the door, “I thought you were coming by later? When daddy would be here.”    

Your sister shakes her head, shoving her hands into her coat pocket. “Nope, I just needed to stop by before I started running my errands for the day.” she said calmly.    

“Well come in, come on, it’s freezing.” You step aside to let your sister in. Bridget quickly sheds her coat and scarf hanging them on the rack next to the door.    

“Magpie, did you pack any of my stuff when you moved daddy up here?” Bridget asks, walking into the kitchen and making herself a glass of water.    

“Come on in, fix yourself a drink, don’t mind your sister... by the way do you have my junk?” you mock crossing your arms as you raise your brow at your younger sister.    

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just in a hurry.” Bridget replied rolling her eyes.    

“Well, what are you looking for Birdie?” you asked.    

“I told you, it’s Bri.” She murmured with a sour face. “I can’t find any of my old high school stuff.” she said casually.    

You lean against the counter, “I didn’t take any of that stuff. I just packed up the essentials.”    

“So, my stuff is in a storage unit?” Bridget asked irritated.    

“No Birdie, it’s all still at the house in Georgia. I have Aunt Jo taking care of it. All your stuffs at home.” you replied exasperated.    

“Aunt Josephine? I thought she was like... a recluse?” Bridget asked, making a scrunched face.   

You roll your eyes, “No, Aunt Jo just never liked Lauren, so she never came around.”    

“God, can you just call her mom Magpie? I hate it when you call momma Lauren... it’s weird.” Bridget said defensively.    

You look up at Bridget with a raised brow, “I’m good, thanks. That would involve her having to stick around to be my mom.”   

“I’m not getting into this with you again.” Bridget says in a huff of frustration hitting the counter with her hands.    

“Fine.”   

“Fine.”   

Silence settles over the two sisters, and you go to open the fridge to grab a prepackaged cold coffee.    

“Soooooooooo,” you drawl out as you open the drink.    

Bridget looks at you with a suspicious look.    

“What are your Christmas plans?” you ask, trying to be casual.    

“Jamie and I are going to see momma in Florida. We’ve had these plans for a while.” She said defensively not making eye contact.   

“Birdie come on, you haven’t spent the past few Christmases with daddy, and if you did see him, it was for twenty minutes or a crummy half assed phone call.” you plead, throwing your hand up in emphasis.   

“Y/N, I didn’t come here for a lecture, I just needed to know if you packed my shit when you decided to pack up all our lives and move out to DC without asking me.” Bridget murmurs bitterly under her breath.   

Your brows furrow as you’re taken aback by your sister.    

“Bridget, I didn’t pack up everyone's lives- we still have the house in Georgia!" You said mildly irritated.   

Bridget just rolls her eyes and puts her glass in the sink. “Whatever...” She murmured.   

You feel that small part of yourself, the one that gnaws and claws bubbling under your skin, poke itself to the surface. “What was I supposed to do? I had to make a decision for dad’s health!” you feel your voice rising in irritation that only your sister can bring out of you.   

“Besides, I wasn’t the one who moved to DC to run away from her family.” you state bitterly.   

“Oh, come off it!” Bridget throws her hands up in defeat. “I’m not running away-this was the best program for me, and you know that!”   

“Then what do you call never seeing dad! You even called to ask if he was home before you came today, Birdie, just so you could avoid him... What would you call that?” you feel your voice raising and can’t stop the vitriol that spits out of your mouth at your sister.   

There’s a pit in the bottom of your stomach that twists and churns when it comes to your sister and your dad. You had tried so hard to get her to understand that their father was dying. They’re already lucky with the years they’ve gotten. He’s beaten the odds, but he can’t go on forever. You don’t understand how Bridget can just act like life is normal when every day could be their dad’s last.   

“It’s not my fault daddy’s sick!” Bridgit shouts, her own voice cracking, “It’s not my fault you’ve given up your own life to be his caretaker! So, stop blaming me for living my life, while you’re stuck here playing nurse!”    

“I’m not blaming you-”   

“Yes, you are! You always blame me-”   

“No, I don’t Bridget! If anything, I’m jealous about how selfish you can be!” you feel the words tumbling out of your mouth like bile before you can stop herself. You're so angry and sad all the time. It’s not fair that you’re so aware of your father’s mortality while your baby sister gets to run around and live her carefree life.    

“I just wish you’d think about the fact that daddy is dying!”    

The silence that falls between them is thick, the tension tight, about to break. Bridget looks at her sister with hatred, “I’m very aware he’s dying Y/N... I’m not stupid.” she whispers out in a hard tone.    

Bridget turns around to grab her coat and rushes quickly to the door.    

You dig your heels in more, the words almost vomiting out your mouth in fierce resentment, “Go on Bridget, run away like you always do! I’ve been taking care of dad alone, anyway, not like he has two daughters!” your voice peaks and cracks in frustration.    

You blink away the fat angry tears pricking your eyes.   

Bridget turns on her heels to face her older sister, flipping you off, “Fuck you!” she hisses out in a venomous tone.   

Bridget elbows her way past the man in front of her almost knocking him down as she runs off.    

You rush to the door, about to yell something else after her when you see Spencer standing to the side in shock.    

Your shoulders drop and you look ashamed, closing your mouth tightly. You take a deep breath.    

“How much of that did you hear?” you asked quietly.    

You can’t find it in yourself to look up at Spencer yet, embarrassed by your own unbridled rage.    

He moves to push you gently back inside, “enough...” he replied softly closing the door behind him.    

“C’mon sit down.” He gently moves you to the couch, forcing you to sit down.    

He disappears into the kitchen for a short while and you sit on the couch looking at your lap. You feel the wave of resentment you were holding onto leave and be replaced with the intense sorrow that follows. The tears that were building finally fell, landing on your lap as you sobbed, trying to hold back your voice. Your throat feels tight as you sit there trying to hold yourself together, to not scream your lungs out.    

You feel the sofa dip next to you and a small mug is pushed into your hands. It’s warm tea.   

“There’s a lot of honey in there, I wasn’t thinking so it might be too sweet.” he said softly.    

You just shake your head and sniffle, trying to compose yourself. “No such thing...” you tried to joke, moving the cup to your mouth, your hands shaking the whole time.    

A sob escapes you before you can even drink the tea.    

“I’m sorry,” you tried to say, the tears just sliding down your face, you look up at Spencer your lip quivering and eyes red.    

Spencer gently grabs the tea and puts it on the coffee table before he opens his arms for you, and it doesn’t take but a short second before your face is in Spencer’s chest bawling.   

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly, rubbing soothing circles into your back. Your body shakes from crying, you sound like a small child with how the sobs rip through your throat.    

Spencer holds you until you calm down enough, he finally feels you stop shaking.   

“Do you feel better now?” he whispers.    

You pulled back and tried to dry your eyes, you could already feel the puffiness settling.    

“No...” you murmured pitifully. “I feel worse, like I’m a bitch.” You look up at Spencer and see the massive wet stain from your tears.   

“Sorry,” you point to his shirt, “didn’t mean to unload all of that on you. I thought you were coming later?” you said in a tiny voice.    

“I was running early so I thought I’d just drop by, was that... Bridget?” he asked in a soft voice.    

You nodded. “We were fighting about dad... again.” you admit finally grabbing your cup of tea that he made you.    

Spencer face makes a silent ‘Oh’ as he nods in understanding.    

“It sounded pretty bad.” he replied.   

You groan, “I don’t like fighting about it. I don’t like fighting at all!” you said facing him. “We used to get along great, then... I don’t know. Everything changed when our parents divorced, and the gap just never stopped growing... Now there’s this great divide I can’t seem to reach across and...” you pause, taking a deep breath trying to stop the words from just falling out of your mouth. Exposing your raw skin that you’ve picked at so much your bones are exposed telling your story.   

“I know she thinks I hate her for living her life.” You sigh looking at Spencer, who’s just been sitting and kindly listening. Attentively. “I do sometimes resent how carefree she is... but” you bite your lip.   

“Spencer, I’m so scared that when dad dies... it’ll just,” you scoffed, “Me and that god forsaken bookstore.”   

“I don’t want to lose them both.” you said, your eyes brimming with tears again.    

If there was anything Spencer felt confident that he could do, it was helping you handle loss. He’s experienced it enough.   

“You won’t be alone.” He tells you confidently; he reaches out to hold your hands tightly. “I’ll be here.” he reassured you.    

“If there’s anything I’ve learned, everyone handles grief differently. Bridget...she might not be able to handle how sick your dad is.” Spencer tried to reason, anything to make you feel less alone.   

“Avoiding it won’t make it go away...” you muttered.    

“No, and she’ll eventually see that. You can’t force her to confront that fear.” he said pushing your hair behind her ear.    

“It’s so hard, how do you do it? Alone with your mom?” you asked softly.    

Spencer loses his breath for a moment before he swallows. Trying to find an answer.    

“Well, she has doctors she trusts now. And a home that she feels safe in... but I spent my childhood taking care of her.”    

Spencer scoffs, “I resent my father, he left a child alone to take care of a sick mother? He never helped me.”    

You give him a soft nudge with your shoulder, “my mom's pretty shitty too.”    

Spencer gives a hollow chuckle, “Does everyone have a shitty parent?” he asks, squeezing your hand.   

You lay your head on his shoulder, “There has to be good parents... we just- we got unlucky.” you whisper.   

“Maybe we did...” He murmured.    

Silence settles between them and it’s calming, not the tense air that was with Bridget.    

“You never told me what happened with your mom.”   

You tense up.    

“It’s not a story I like telling...” you sighed, “When I was thirteen, I overheard my parents arguing. Long story short, my mom cheated on my dad. Bridget was so young, like six, so when they divorced, they tried to lie to us. That it was mutual. Civil... I knew the truth though; I couldn’t look at my mom the same after that." you told him with a bitter smile.    

“I already lost my mom; I just couldn’t take away Birdie’s...”    

“You never told her?” he asked in surprise.    

“It wasn’t for me to tell. I just, I was a teenager...I wanted to protect her you know? She didn’t need the bitterness that bites at the back of my throat every time I see that woman.”   

Spencer nods in understanding. “You know, you’re allowed to feel angry. You don’t have to be agreeable or happy about everything. It’s okay to get mad sometimes.” His hand moves up to gently brush your hair.    

You don’t respond to his statement, just try to not cry anymore.    

“Can we go get lunch now?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.    

“Anywhere you want.”   

The one where you find out Spencer works for the FBI   

It’s a rough morning.   

Massively rough, actually. Your alarm didn’t go off and if it wasn’t for Spencer calling you, you’d still be heavily sleeping.    

You roll over to grab your phone and answer it.    

“Hello?” your voice comes out groggy, slow, and thick with sleep.    

“Hey! You still want to go to the convention? I’m leaving soon and I can swing by to grab you.” Spencer’s voice comes through.    

You panic, and shots up staring at your bedside clock. “Oh god, Spencer I’m so sorry! I slept in!” You jump out of your bed and almost trip over your own clothes strewn on the floor from the night before.    

“It’s okay- I can wait if you need me to-”   

“No, no no! You were so excited, don’t wait up!” You interrupt him as you throw clothes from your closet around trying to find something you want to wear.    

“It’s no big deal.” Spencer started to answer but you sighed.    

“Spencer are you already dressed?” you pressed, grabbing one of your comfortable but cute skirts and a simple sweater. You throw them on your bed.   

His silence is enough of an answer.    

“You are.” you sighed and shook your head, “I have to go to the shop and pick up the money to deposit for the bank today. I’ll just meet up with you later. Promise. I just have to run this errand first.” you told him with a soft tone.   

You hear his small huff, “It’s really not a big deal,”    

“Spencer” you chastise him. “You’re already ready to go. I’ll probably just take a little over an hour. Then I'll be there, okay? Just do a few laps in the artist alley for me.” you tell him teasingly.    

You can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Fine, but you owe me a coffee.”    

“I always do.” you joked before hanging up.    

You rush through putting on your makeup and throwing your clothes on. You gave yourself a quick once over before deciding that you can’t waste any more time. You looked decent enough.   

You rushed down the stairs and came around the corner to see your dad sitting at the kitchen table.    

“You sure you’re okay without me today?” you asked him, leaning down to kiss your dad on the cheek.    

Her dad huffs, “I told you I can handle one day. Magpie, go out. You haven’t been out in months for fun.” He grunted in his deep voice, slurring his words together.    

“I’m just asking daddy!” you snorted a soft laugh. “I want to make sure you don’t need anything before I leave.” you told him.    

Her dad’s been able to move himself in and out of his own wheelchair for the most part, but you’re waiting for the day he can’t.    

You’re waiting for the day your daddy can’t do most things.   

“Don’t worry about me, I’m gonna watch the Brave’s game today and I better see them win.” He mumbled nodding to you.    

You roll your eyes, “Don’t hold your breath on that one. I love you.”   

“Love you too pumpkin.”    

You grab your bag, “Be safe!” He hollers at you.    

“I always am!” you shout back to him before leaving for the bookstore.    

-   

You are checking your watch in a mild panic. You’re not super off on the time you gave Spencer, but you still hate making him wait. You should have just taken the money deposit on Friday, but you were so sleepy you barely could do more than take your dad to his appointment.    

You huffed in frustration, you only had yourself to blame.    

You're finally up to deposit the stores money, and you thank the gods above. Then your, already bad day, goes terrible.   

“Hey!”   

Gun shots. Gun shots go off and you are frozen, your brain going into fight or flight. You turn quickly and see a woman with a short bob holding a gun and the security guard is on the ground, blood pooling beneath his body.    

You feel your stomach fall out of your body and you’re shuffled with the crowd trying to get out. It feels like a blur.   

“I want to see hands in the sky!” a new voice shouts.   

Your hands go up, you see at least three guns and three different ugly face masks swinging their guns around. You feel like your ears are ringing while you’re ushered into a corner with the other patrons.    

Your body is shaking from fear. Who the hell robs a bank on a Saturday afternoon?    

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we are the Face Cards, maybe you’ve heard of us.” The woman’s voice rings through again.   

You stand next to a couple who start speaking lowly in a foreign language, you think it’s German. You know that they’re trying to plan something together.    

The woman with her face mask turns around pointing her gun at the couple quickly walking toward them, speaking in their language. You have no idea what she says but you know it’s a threat.    

“Get your faces on the floor already. I see eyes, you see bullets. Get it?” the woman shouts at them.    

You slide down with everyone, fear eating away at you. You just hope the police are either quick or the robbers are.    

“Get down on the ground!” one of the males screams.   

You feel like a rock is in your throat. You just keep your head down, trying to keep yourself together. You aren’t focusing on what they’re saying. You know he’s demanding money but you’re just trying to focus on living.   

You hear them shuffling, shouting, and then they're gone. Just as soon as you feel like you can breathe again, there’s more gunshots and the robbers come running back inside.   

You are yanked up by your arm, forced to your feet. Your eyes meet the hollow black abyss of the woman’s mask as she holds the gun to your stomach. You can’t breathe, all you can think about is how you can’t leave your dad alone.    

“Make a wall, stand near the doors and windows.” she demanded, shoving you toward the front door.    

You heard the woman walk away, and you released a shaky breath squeezing your eyes shut.    

This is not how you wanted today to go. You were supposed to be at a convention with Spencer. Dressed as Doctor Who characters, eating bland food, and buying something silly from the artist alley. You’d come home, make dinner, and watch a movie with your dad.    

Now you don’t know if you’ll see your dad or Spencer again. God, you can’t think, what if you don’t see your dad again? Who’s going to take care of him? Your sister won’t. Your mind starts to spiral and you’re panicking, your breathing becomes shallow.    

You're brought back by the woman who’s next to you grabbing your hand and holding it tight. It grounds you to the present. You can hear the conversation happening with the squabbling face masked robbers.   

“I can’t find anything. No doors, no grates, nothing.” The woman informed the man.   

“Yo! Lynne! What’s another way outta here?” He shouts disgruntled to the woman who was working behind the counter.   

“Just the main entrance and the side door. It’s for security.” She responds timidly.   

“I know that. You think I’m stupid?” He shouted at her with an exhausted sigh.   

“What went wrong? We were on count.” The woman growls out in frustration.   

“I need a doctor. Is anyone a doctor?!” The man is clearly ignoring her and trying to save the other man that’s with them.   

You don’t hear much else, you start to tune out all the noise into a hum that almost feels like tv static against your skin. It makes you itch, but you can’t be bothered to try to move.   

There’s a murmur of conversation from the group next to you but it just makes white noise in your ears. You're just numb and want desperately to be home or at the coffee shop with Spencer. Anywhere else.   

A phone ringing is the only thing that vaguely pulls you out of it enough to pay attention again.   

One of the robbers is on the phone, the woman keeps circling murmuring her own commentary.   

“He’s trying to negotiate.” the man’s gruff voice cuts through.   

“We’re not playing games!” The woman sneers back.   

You feel the woman’s eyes scanning, heels clicking on the floor. You can feel your heart in your throat as it beats aggressively.   

There’s sudden movement and near you the woman pulls a small girl. She screams for her dad who’s with her and he spins around begging for his daughter.   

“Either we get what we want, or everyone in this room dies.”   

The father’s voice is shaking as he begs. “Take me instead, please. Take me.”   

“It’s okay baby.”   

Then the loud noise of gun being shot makes you flinch as you see the man falling backwards and lands on the ground in front of you. His daughter screaming for him and trying to grab him.   

You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing too easily you could be shot too.   

“You better send in some help or more people are gonna die.” The man tells the police calmly on the phone.   

You feel a shaky breath leave your body.   

They keep going back and forth and you hear the phone again.   

It feels like an out of body experience. You can’t think, barely can feel yourself breathing. If it wasn’t for the occasional heel clicking or unfortunate gun shot, you’d think it was a nightmare.   

The front door opens, and a man walks through a metal detector, he looks like medical personnel. The woman tries to pat him down, but the other robber is in the floor with a dying man screaming for help.   

The room in dead silent as you hear the man work, trying to save the robber on the ground.   

The room is starting to smell like blood and what you can only assume is the stench of death. You hate the iron that’s infiltrating your nostrils, and you’ve never thought of yourself to be queasy with gore, but this is real. Not a horror movie.   

There’s at least two dead men in front of you on the floor, a small girl sobbing into a strange woman, and soon to be another body.   

Another gunshot.   

You still flinch. The medics body now is dragged forward into the pile of dead men. Alongside the other robber. Four. Four dead men.   

You want to hurl. You are not built for this, that’s why you run a bookstore and cafe.   

“Everyone move forward!” the woman demands with a shout.   

You vaguely hear the phone ring again and you wonder when this will be over. Will they shoot all of them? Will they kill another person, five more? When does it end and what can the police even do?   

You’re starting to think this bank will be the last four walls you ever see. You have to blink back the tears and not let that thought overwhelm you.   

The man and woman are squabbling again. Turning on each other? You can’t really tell.   

“I wanna talk to the cop who shot my brother.”   

Well, there goes that tactic. No betrayals here... just possibly another dead officer.   

The man gets back on the phone and the back and forth goes on, he keeps demanding the officer, even offering to let hostages go. That feels far too good to be true though.   

One of the men near you gets dragged back, pulled over to the phone.   

“Come on bud, let’s go!”   

“Pick up the phone.” the robber demands.   

“Why?” the man’s shaking voice asks.   

“Pick up the phone!” he shouts, like he’s desperate.   

“Hello?” the man is clearly scared, voice shaking and small.   

“Tell him your name.”   

“It’s...” He swallows, “It’s Shawn Harper.”   

There’s another gun shot, and you wish you didn’t know what a body hitting the floor sounded like.   

And that makes five innocent bodies, and one dead robber.   

“Ugh, you just killed Shawn Harper. Not me, you.” the man hisses through the phone.   

You’re going to hurl, what a sick thing to say.   

“I’m going to shoot another hostage every sixty seconds until you send in the cop.”   

You freeze. 

You try to close your eyes, and you’ve never been a very religious person... which is not common for someone from Georgia, but you find yourself begging to some god, or whoever, that you can make it out. You have to make it out.   

“Who’s next huh?”   

He grabs a woman and drags her back. Telling her to pick up the phone. Your body trembled as you tried desperately to block out the gunshot you knew you would hear.   

“Pick it up, come on. Pick it up.” he goads the woman, her sobs broken between her shaking breathes.   

“What’s your name?” he pressures.   

“No,” she gasps, “Please...” her voice broken.   

“Tell him your name!” he shouts at the woman.   

“Annie...” she gasps, swallowing a sob, “It’s Annie.”   

“Annie, you got about 30 seconds, I hope Agent Rossi doesn’t make me shoot you too.” he tells her, with fake sympathy in his voice.   

The man next to you decides that now is the time to chat. He turned to face the woman with children, he whispered something to her, and you can’t believe this man has lost his mind.   

“Hey! You! Come over here.” The robber yells at him, his gun pointing much too close to you for your liking.   

“Just let the women and children go. They don’t need to see this.” The man tried to negotiate with the robber.   

You almost scoffed, what did this guy think he was doing?   

“Pretty soon they’re gonna be doing a lot more than seeing.” The man hisses out, “Annie, you just got yourself a reprieve, get in line over there.”   

The robber grabs the man shoving him towards the phone and you sigh.   

“My name is Matthew Downs.” he speaks into the phone.   

Suddenly an officer walks through the door, his hands up in surrender.   

“Let those people go.” his accent is much thicker than yours, southern but he’s not from Georgia.   

“Alright, you, you, you, you-” he pushes the woman and two children next to you. “The kids, get out.”   

He sounds like a man who’s finally found release, like he’s getting what he’s always wanted.   

You watch the officer talk to the robbers, and you see him fall, two shots to his chest.   

You released a shaky gasp. The man, Matthew? Who was at the phone rushes over and grabs onto you. He directs you and forces you to put her hands on the officer.   

“Keep pressure on it.”   

You nod and follow his instruction easily.   

Matthew grabs the medical bag and starts instructing you on what to do. You're on the floor, holding a cloth and putting pressure heavily on the cop in front of you. He instructs the pressure is the most important and that’s what she does.   

She’s trying to breathe, steady her hands to be helpful. The officer on the ground keeps trying to talk and you are so close to panicking that you’re about to yell at this poor man bleeding out on the ground.   

“Are you armed?” Matthew asked him.   

“No.” He murmured, hissing in pain.   

“Damn... I think we might have something of a chance here.” your eyebrows were raised in surprise at his words.   

“What?” the cop looks just as confused.   

“The girls gone and the guys off his head. He doesn’t know who to trust. We can work them against each other.” Matthew whispered to both of them.   

“Wait are you a cop?” he tries to ask, still struggling.   

“A former marine.” Matthew grunts out.   

The officer is moving too much, and his blood is all over your hands. You can’t get the metallic smell out of your nose and you’re trying to keep it together.   

“You gotta listen to me, I need you to get a message to my girlfriend.” he tried to ask.   

“All right, you can tell her yourself when you get out of here.” Matthew reassures him.   

You huff and looks at the officer with determination, “I need you to not think in only death, okay? Everything looks a little bleak right now and I really need some kind of hope to hold on to. There are already five dead bodies, don’t make it six.” you hiss out at him.   

“Only I’m not getting outta here... you need someone to cause a distraction.” he murmured trying to sit up.   

“What are you doing?!” you try to push him back down but he’s surprisingly resilient for someone who was just shot.   

“Her name is Jennifer, and she’s a federal agent. You tell her I’m sorry.” the cop tells Matthew.   

The two continue to go back and forth and you can’t bother to get yourself off the ground. You're watching this officer like he’s gone mad.   

He walks on shaky legs, hobbling over to the robber. He goads him, pushing the man. Turning his trust around on its head.   

Then the robbers walking off with him to the back, and they’ve left an opening for them to escape.   

Matthew bends down to help you off the ground and shoves you out the door, and suddenly you can breathe again. Officers swarm them and escort them off to the safety of a police barricade.   

You look around, taking in the massive amounts of vans, officers, the FBI agents, and swat team.   

You're watching them move in, trying to do their jobs. Arrest the bad guys... but you watch with wide eyes the massive explosion that destroys the inside of the bank. Shooting debris out onto the ground. It really hits you, like a massive punch to your gut, how lucky you are to even be alive.   

You’re with the rest of the survivors, huddled near one of the police cruisers, all of them waiting for medics to check them and for other cops to take statements. It’s all just a blur. Everything is happening too fast and too slowly all at once. You don’t even know what the time is or how long you’ve been trapped in that bank.   

Then through the fog of your head you see something so familiar you have to do a double take to believe it.    

Spencer.   

Your Spencer, coming out of a federal vehicle in a bullet proof vest reading FBI. You'll blame the adrenaline later, but your feet start walking away from the safety of your spot and it’s like tunnel vision. you're running, and while you hear people yelling, you can’t stop. Your only goal is Spencer, he was a lifeline in this moment. A grounding figure in your shock.   

“Spencer?” your feet pound on the pavement, the loud commotion around you fading into a buzzing sound behind you. “Spencer!” you shout at him.    

With laser focus he finds you, his face filled with relief but even more worry.   

Spencer had seen you on the cameras, and it took every fiber of his being to not immediately want to drive down to barge in for you. He knew, logically, he was better helping out Garcia and looking over the maps. Every time Spencer heard a gunshot; it was a jolt of panic as his eyes scanned the cameras making sure it wasn’t you. You couldn’t die. Spencer doesn’t think he could recover from that. You’re bright and kind and the last person who deserved to be in this kind of hostage situation.    

Every second felt like an hour and his brain was whirling a million different scenarios.    

“Y/N,” he meets you halfway, holding your arms and walking you back to safety.    

“You can’t be here, this isn’t safe.” He tells you sternly, his brow furrowed in a deep line. It’s an expression you've never seen, so serious. His eyes flashed over your body trying to check if you were okay. He freezes when he sees the blood caked on your hands. He gently grabbed your hands, and it made you look down.   

“It’s not mine.” you murmured quietly.   

Spencer sighed in relief and looked back at you with more determination.   

“Just stay with the officers, okay? They will keep you safe. I promise I’ll explain but I have to do my job.” He tells you; he’s navigated you back to where you started, and he hands you off to a medic.   

You want to argue with him, but his tone leaves no room for it and your energy is fading.    

“Make sure she’s looked at.” He told the medic in a fiercely intense tone.   

“Stay with them. I will explain...later.” he said giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before he turns to leave.    

You have no energy left to try to argue. You’re just filled with exhaustion as the medic checks your vitals. You vaguely hear him talking to you, but you can’t pay attention. Your eyes never left Spencer as you follow him. He works his way around like it's second nature.   

For a moment, you realized there’s a whole part of his life that you had no idea about... he’d never told you.   

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur, you don’t touch your phone until it’s well into the late evening. Seeing missed calls from so many people. You can only find it in yourself to call your dad.    

“Magpie? Magpie, please tell me you’re okay.” Your dad’s voice rings through, warbled like he’s about to cry. Big Joe isn’t a crier, he just never has been. A pang of guilt shoots through you because you feel guilty for not calling sooner.    

“I’m, I’m safe daddy, I’m at the station.” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the smoke and underuse.    

“Oh, thank god.” The sigh of relief speaks more than his words do.   

“I’ll be home tonight, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to leave...”    

“Come home as soon as you can sweetie.”   

“I love you daddy.” your voice shakes, and it’s watery, almost on the verge of tears.   

“I love you too. Come home safe, and I mean it.” His voice is firm, but filled with warmth and it has you cracking her foundation. Tears escaped your eyes.    

She wipes them away furiously, trying to save her waterworks for when she’s alone tonight and processing what the hell even happened today.   

By the time you hang up you see a small group entering the police station, and there's a familiar mop of brown hair.    

Spencer beelines towards you. You stand to meet him, and you’re enveloped in a tight hug and whispers you can’t hear against your neck.   

“You’re safe, you’re safe.” You hear him chanting and from how he’s holding you, you realize he’s saying it for his benefit.   

The two stand in silence, holding onto each other. You really couldn’t care about the onlookers. You almost died over a stupid bank robbery; you were going to hug your best friend.   

“So, is every day this scary for you?” you asked quietly.   

“Kind of part of the job.” he chuckled moving back to look you over. His sharp eyes trying to see if there was something wrong, if you were injured.    

“So, FBI?” you tilt your head with a raised brow. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a fed.” you teased, trying to ease the tension.   

“Behavioral Analysis Unit, specifically.” He adds.   

Your eyebrows raise, “Jesus, I need a sedative...” you murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”   

Spencer just shrugged, “I just needed somewhere that was for me, yeah know? Keep the work out of the personal?”    

You nodded, “Yeah well, I’d would have liked to know that when my best friends out of town, it could be life threatening.” you said with a small fake punch to his arm.    

“You worry enough about too much. Don’t worry about me.” he told you firmly.    

“That’s easier said than done.” you murmured with a frown.    

“Come on, let me take you home. I’m sure Big Joe’s worried sick.” Spencer said moving to grab your hand and lead you out.    

You just nod and follow behind him.   

-   

“Spencer, are you sure this is okay? I mean I don’t know anyone.” You asked trying to straighten out your dress.    

Spencer was behind the driver's seat in a tuxedo of his own and he was looking at your nervous gestures. He reaches over to hold your hands and squeezes.    

“I know it’s okay. Besides, you might as well meet everyone. I was going to introduce you to Garcia at the convention anyway.” He shrugs casually.     

“I promise they don’t bite; besides, you definitely know Will.” he said with a faint smirk.   

“Spencer Reid that does not count! I was applying pressure to make sure the man didn’t bleed out all over the floor of that bank!” you huff in irritation.    

“I promise you’ll get along, and if I don’t Morgan’s going to start thinking I’m taking out call girls after work.” He frowns in mild annoyance.   

“Wow, glad to know you think I'm a step up from call girl.” you said jokingly, reaching over to pat his arm. “Great pep talk Spence.”   

You move to get out of the car your giggles following. Spencer fumbles to escape the car.    

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he tried to explain.    

You put your hand up, “It’s fine, come on my nerves are definitely gone now.”   

Spencer just smiled at you, watching you smooth out your starry sky dress. The deep blue complimenting her as silver stars dangle from your ears.    

“I’ll stop while I’m ahead.” he said.    

“Good call.”   

Spencer walks you up to Rossi’s house, well, mansion. Your eyes widened a bit before turning to him.    

“Bestselling author... for multiple books.” he confirmed.    

He takes you out to the back to greet everyone’s who's there. You're distracted by the large space and beautiful displays. The flower petals on the ground, the beautiful tables, not to mention an open bar. Spencer gently guides you over to his team Hotch, Garcia, and Morgan who are gathered in a small circle.   

Before Spencer can introduce you Morgan’s already looking you up and down.   

“So, you're the little friend Reid wouldn’t tell us about?” He points at you before returning his hand to his pocket. Morgan’s charming and mischievous smile on his face.   

There’s a gasp, and Garcia gives a small, excited jump, “The bookstore girl!” She almost shouts at you. “You’re gorgeous!” She moved to hold your hands and made you do a small spin to look at your dress. “So sparkly, I like!”   

Morgan leaned over to Reid, “She might have already started drinking...”   

“Can’t believe you’d keep us a secret Reid.” Hotch teased, his arm resting around Beth’s waist pressing her closer to his side.   

“You’re all vultures, every single one. No privacy with you guys.” Spencer told them shaking his head.   

“You’re lucky you lasted this long, if I had known just a little more, I could have looked into her.”   

“That's... exactly what I’m talking about Garcia...” Spencer sighs heavily.   

“I’m Y/N, it’s really nice to meet you guys.” You introduce yourself with a smile and a small laugh.   

“So, a bookstore?” Morgan raised his brow in question.   

“Yeah! I co-own the Midnight Owl. It’s a bookstore and cafe that is open late nights to offer a space for book loving insomniacs like myself.” you said cheerfully.   

“That explains how Reid met you.” Rossi’s voice drifts in as he comes up to meet Spencer’s new friend.   

He extends his hand out to shake yours. “David Rossi, nice to meet you.”     

You give him a warm smile, “Thank you for hosting, your home is beautiful.”   

You leave Spencer for a while going to walk off with Penelope as the blonde leads you to the open bar.   

“How long have you been friends with Reid?” she asked.   

You take a sip from your drink and think, “Three years, going on four.”   

Penelope’s brows go up, “Oh he’s been keeping you a verrrrrry big secret.”   

You roll your eyes, “Well he regretted to inform me his day job was being an FBI agent.”   

“Does it matter?” The blonde asked tilting her head.   

You could feel Penelope’s piercing protective gaze on you. You shake your head. “No obviously not. He’s my best friend. I just... will probably worry ten times more about him now.” you admit.   

“They’re the best team I know.” Penelope tells you softly.   

“Won’t stop me from worrying, but thanks for trying.” you give a half smile before taking another sip.   

“I worry too, constantly.” She stage whispers to you.  

You bubble into laughter and the two make their way back over to the small group.   

Other groups of people were trickling into the back yard filling up space and chattering.   

Spencer’s nowhere to be found with his coworkers and you try to search for him, finally finding him crouched next to a small blonde child. You excuse yourself and make your way over.   

You tilt your head as you watch Spencer roll a ring between his fingers in front of the child and make the ring disappear and reappear before the boy's eyes. 

“Go on Henry,” he ruffles the blonde’s hair, “Time to go be the ring bearer. It’s a very important job.” Spencer ushers Henry off.   

“You just keep surprising me.” you whispered walking over to him.   

Spencer shrugs, “There’s a lot to find out.” he replied.   

“Have you always been this good with kids?” you asked.   

Spencer smiled, “I love them.” The way that he says it, you can see how much he wants that. To be a dad. To be in love.   

“I think you’ll make a great dad one day, if that’s anything to go by.” you tell him.   

Spencer just brushed the comment off and led you over to the altar.   

“Who knows, maybe one day.”   

[leoleolovesdc]

Stephanie (at least throught the 90s-00s) had a very discernible violent streak and morals that don’t really line up with tim and the other bats around her. This is kinda lost on modern comics, either because of how much she’s being sidelined or as an attempt to soften her character and make her more likeable, but i genuinely think it was a interesting part to her characer that we should bring back.

Steph is sort of angry and reckless, she became spoiler without any training because she needed to get her father out of her and her mother’s life permanently, and she didn’t care for the implications of what she had to do to get there.

In her debut, you can see how desperate and impatient she is, she was tired of all the harm arthur caused to her family and of the helplessness of never being able to do something about it. It’s just a lot of bottled up anger you can tell she’s been struggling with for years, so when she finally finds a way to channel it onto something good (you can argue on how much good beating up criminals would really do, but this is from steph’s pov) it immediately leads up to her being ready to murder her father on the first opportunity she gets.

And even after bruce convinces stephanie to Not Kill Him, she still expresses multiple times how she doesn’t care for men like her father and saving them is a waste of her time. She is usually pretty willing to let “bad” people die because, as she sees it, their lives aren’t more important then the ones they ruined.

I wouldn’t say steph has very “strong” opinions on murder like jason, for example, does, but she definetly has a detachment to bruce, cass and tim’s morals that end up pushing her into a place of distrust with all of them at some point or another. She is willing to adapt to what her teammates (on the occasions where she did get to feel like a part of a team) expect of her in a mission because she values their opinion of her and wants to receive proper support and training, but it doesn’t make her dislike the kind of people who’s lives she is told to care about any less.

In the short time steph had as robin that trend of loose morals in comparison to the bats really continues, like in that one story where a guy she hit recklessly doesn’t die by pure luck and when bruce is scolding her about it she just goes “he was a serial killer, so really, why should i even care?”, or when she has that talk with batgirl after having to be stopped from beating the shit out of the penguin and ponders a bit about “when does it end? Am i really that wrong for wishing we could just take guys like this out of our lives?”.

It’s a very noticeable highlight on this aspect of stephanie right near the end, and it builds up to when she is fighting fo her life against black mask and finally manages to get the upperhand. It’s not the first time she has someone’s life on her hands but it is the first time she hesitates, maybe because the stakes are higher now, but mainly it’s just because of how guilty she feels for the gang war, for fucking it up with batman and for orpheus’ death. When she lets black mask live it’s not because she thinks it’s the right thing or because she doesn’t want to blow his brains out, it’s out of respect for bruce, because she feels like she already ruined everything, she should have known better and she owes him something, so she does what batman would do. And then that gets her killed.

So, let’s be real, why should i think that after all of this, after her father ruined her mother’s life, after she watched hundreds of children get killed and traumatized by monsters like the penguin, after the one time she tries to follow the damn code it kills her, should she have any notion that murdering is wrong if when she’s looking back on it, killing a bitch would have solved all of her problems from day one?

Being a Stephanie Brown fan is so annoying sometimes because you read about this child consistently trying to commit murder since her literal debut just for some random writer and those “batboys” mfs go around saying that she thinks murder is wrong

[peterm4rker]

ten. the girl in the green beetle (written)

🕸🕷✮⋆˙ wc. 1.5k w. curse words! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

as you walked towards the place you and spiderman had agreed to meat for your first ever interview, you wondered how the fuck you ended up there. 

just a couple days ago you had been struggling to think about something to write about, your mind too occupied with thoughts of a certain biochem major that was too hot and nice for your well being. but now you were on your way to meet with a literal superhero because he had been nice enough to be your new source of entertainment for the school body, and even more importantly, the newspaper editor.

to say you had changed your outfit five times was the understatement of the century. you wanted to look cute, but also professional. not too professional to make you look stupid, but not too cute to make you look superficial, in chanhee’s words. it is unneeded to clarify he had not been of any help in the choosing of the outfit.

you got to the park where you had agreed to meet, finding your way behind the giant statue where no one ever went and setting down the cloth you had brought for the occasion. you got your computer started and your phone ready to record in case you missed anything, and waited.

★🕸️⋆｡ °⋆

mark hadn’t slept all night knowing that he was going to have to spend time with you without giving away his identity.

he kicked himself over and over for even thinking it was a good idea to accept your interview, much less offer to have multiple of them. of course, he knew that he could retract at any minute and you would understand and send him off with a smile, because you were that type of person. considerate, understanding, nice, beautiful… he could keep going with that list forever. but he wasn’t the type of person to simply back away from things he got himself into, he wouldn’t break a deal that hadn’t even started, not when it came to you.

with that conclusion settling in his brain, he was finally able to rest. but the world was unfair, and someone out there (most likely jeno) was praying for his downfall, which caused him to be in his current debacle. he swung around the city like he was being chased by a monstrous, villainized version of the flash, trying to get to the arranged location before you got too tired of waiting and left there, storyless and disappointed. he sort of wished he was being chased by a monster, that would be a better excuse for his tardy than “i fell asleep and woke up about half an hour ago.”

with his mastered speed and guilt fueling every movement he made, he got to the park twenty minutes after the time you two had arranged. he looked for you frantically until he spotted you, sitting on a blanket behind the statue, eyes focused on your screen. you didn’t look mad or annoyed, and he really hoped you weren’t. he approached you slowly and carefully, taking advantage of the fact that you hadn’t seen him to take his time to admire you. your hair laid perfectly on your shoulders, the clothes you wore highlighting every beautiful feature. and mark was breathless, utterly entranced by your beauty when your eyes lifted to meet his, making him thank the gods above that you couldn’t see his blushing face through the mask.

“you’re here” you spoke, surprise coating your voice as you looked up to his standing form.

“i’m so sorry im late” he began, trying to find a way not to sound completely pathetic as he looked for an excuse.

“don’t worry about it, i’m sure you have better things to do than be interviewed by a college reporter” you chuckled lightly and mark’s heart pounded on his chest.

“not at the moment, i just fell asleep” he spoke before he even realized, eliciting a laugh to escape past your lips.

“that’s okay, you deserve to rest” you smiled reassuringly “and i also had time to finish up an assignment, so it worked out for the both of us”

mark smiled and took a seat in front of you, having to remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to act the way he normally did around you. you weren’t there for him, you were there for spiderman, so he would give you spiderman.

“what were you thinking for the article?” he asked as he ripped some grass off the ground, playing with the leaves to keep his hands busy and attempt to hide his embarrassment from you.

“well, obviously i won’t ask for any of your personal information. so i thought that we could do kind of a series of stories that you would like to tell, like your battles through your eyes, what you think, feel, things like that.” you spoke, a slight smile on your lips as you noticed the nervous habit.

“that sounds really fun, i normally don’t get to share my perspective of fights” he nodded, remembering that you couldn’t see the way he was smiling at you.

“let’s start off by telling me your favorite one of your stories” you said as you opened a fresh document on your computer, ready to listen to whatever he said “i’ll start the recording now, if that’s okay”

mark nodded and took a few seconds to think of what story he could share with you, mind scanning through the hundreds of silly stories he could tell for one that would entertain you.

“okay, i got one” he spoke once he had it, looking at how you started the recording “this was not so long ago, actually. this guy decided it was a good idea to attack in the middle of the day, when everyone is outside and extremely conscious of what is going on around them…”

and he continued to speak, telling you about the guy with the weird laugh and the awful plans. he had a way of telling stories that made them a million times more entertaining than when they were talked about in newscasts. his expressions and body language had you audibly laughing, getting an inside scoop into the superhero’s very unserious mind and what went through it in times of battle.

“and so i’m chasing him through the bridge and cars are stopping everywhere, everyone is honking and this man is sliding around with whatever goo was oozing from his body, which i had the pleasure to touch later by the way, not a very pleasant experience” he shuddered exaggeratedly at the memory, making a chuckle fall from your lips “and out of nowhere this random girl opened her car door and he slammed right into it. she got off and started yelling at him in very angry sounding spanish and the man looked terrified, like i’m sure he was way more scared of her than he could have ever been of me. she stalled him enough for me to get to him and take him away, though, so that was nice… i remember it so well because every time i see a green beetle i know it's her and it makes me laugh every time because i can just tell that she’s one hell of an entertaining person to be around” he finished as he settled down on his seat again.

if there was one thing you had noticed throughout the exchange it was that he could not stand still for the life of him. he was always moving, fidgeting with something, bouncing his leg, something. and it made you think of mark without even realizing.

you had spiderman right in front of you and you still managed to think of mark.

“no way…” you laughed softly, typing some things in your computer as you laughed at the end of his story. “so in reality you’re not even the hero of this story, the girl on the green beetle is” you teased.

“oh, yeah, a hundred percent” he laughed as he watched your pretty smile decorate your face, and just then he realized that he hadn’t been tracking the time he had been there “sorry, what time is it?” “oh, its 11:37” you spoke after checking the time.

shit. he had a report due at one and he wasn’t nowhere near finished.

“i’m so sorry to cut this short, but i need to get going, you know, super hero stuff” he muttered a bit nervously, feeling guilty that he had to leave you just like that.

“its okay… i’ll see you here at the same time next month?” you asked, and he noticed how unsure your voice sounded. he liked this side of you, the shy side that mark didn’t get to normally see.

“of course, i’ll be here on time next time” he smiled as he watched you smile, nodding your head. you waved at him and he waved back before taking the first web to a lamppost, that way swinging away from you.

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★ blue's corner ;; first spideyn interaction hehehe.... i wrote this at night and its not proof read so sorry for any mistakes !! ★ tag list ;; @winwintea @neozon3nha @kittydollzz @sleepyvic @injunnie-lemon @jovialdelusionbouquet @n0hyuck @julsinglee @leejenoenthusiast @morkiee @taroddori @mrsjohnnysuh @sunghoonsgfreal @dr3amersdiary @grlscrushing @flaminghotyourmom @johnsuhsbanana @stqrgr7 @sibwol @synthwxve @222brainrot @jeonghansshitester @gomdoleemyson @ninahorikoshifr @chriscentric @flamingi @ldh0000 @clean-soap @haechology @hyuckies18 @yutasloverr @kukkurookkoo ★ back to the main masterlist ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any content !!

© peterm4rker, 2024

[joffyworld]

Šamaš I -

The Shunned Sun's Son

Nobody remembers...

One...

I remember the sun;

How it burned my retina and touched my skin.

I remember the sand and the desert's strewn hues,

How it stretched so far I could never imagine it's end.

I remember the clacking of the horses hooves;

How they whinnie'd and neigh'd as they trotted afar.

I remember well the hot, harsh sun;

How it sunk it's rays, seeped deep into purple flesh.

I remember the tears;

How the years of servitude and solemn silences had been repaid in kind.

I remember the fall;

How I trod for miles and days, in any which way I could conceive to heave my wounded soul.

I remember the offer;

How they extended their hand and told me of their plans to redeem that which we had both just had stolen.

I remember the son...

Two...

There was nothing to lose by the time I had met him.

No course of action set but to survive without question.

Those were the dark days:

Before we had found our ways, struck down the clouds and figured it all out; How we would arise from these trials and tribulations.

That is to say;

We weren't yet homeward bound into those higher graces. We hadn't yet found our way out of the cave system that we resided in;

Depression.

Yet that is also to say we hadn't yet lost hope. Hadn't found ourselves falling from the ends of our rope. We clung tightly to the middle, ever so tightly to that middle that had the rope ever frayed we might've let ourselves choke.

Depression's a bitch but so were we.

We made our days carefree and aimless. Because who is more dangerous than the nameless and faceless? We moved through the shadows, yes we clung to those shadows, they embraced us when the world didn't. It was all we could know.

I remember the cub...

Three...

He'd never had to run.

There was a fire in his eyes, I remember it well. You could immediately tell there was a chance to excel. You could immediately see, no matter who he'd want to be, he would achieve it without question, time wasn't needed to tell.

He'd never want to run.

The fire in his eyes belied the fire in his heart. The fire was in there it just needed a spark. The spark that was needed was the guidance of our teaching, could we do what was necessary? Was it even enough?

He'd never be able to run.

Fire burns hot, this we know well. Those that burn the brightest burn the fastest, this we could all tell. The fire needed to be tempered, it had to be made embers and if we left it too long it might have burned us as well.

In a way he did run.

He retreated into those books we had banned, but he was fast as a gun. Every book we confiscated was another library raided, had we taken from him the chance to learn and have fun?

Of course we had. That was the plan wasn't it? To take from him the powers of our collective knowledges? To shake and stutter his incorrigible courage? To destroy the foundations of the most powerful puppet? To take from the child, to break this poor child. We thought we were helping, it was all proven wrong.

I remember the spawn...

Four...

They say there is strength in nobility:

A chance to make right your wrongs and face your true enemies, a choice to be made about who you really ought to be. Yet that choice is no choice if it's formed by your destiny. We rail against it as if destiny can be history, then fail to mention that we follow it anyway blissfully -

Unaware.

That's what we were, maybe still are. We thought we had our work cut out for us, that naught was FUBAR. That we could recover and find our place amongst these stars; that form our galaxy, though tragically we forgot to search far.

Then destiny blessed us again.

I remember looking down at the small child that stood there. Dirtied clothes, big eyes and no traces of hair. Built wide, like her smile, nary a sound in the air. Not tall, but built short without a singular flair.

Destiny was a strange patron.

It had given us a family we could never have dreamed of. It gave us small hopes and small comforts that we could never conceive of. It took and then gave and then took again without recourse. But when all seemed hopeless again, it came back with kind re-gards.

Years passed and none changed. Months flew by and yet we all stayed the same. Number four grew stronger, number three grew bolder, number two grew shoulders for them to cry on and complain.

I remember the hatchling...

Five...

He was perhaps the most interesting.

Certainly the most challenging.

We kept things simple,

We tried to keep it all slow.

But there was no stopping him.

Every day was another spent running at the gym.

Every activity a festivity, never a solemn slow hymn.

There was no sort of pace,

That we could ever control.

He completed us as a family,

He reformed our lost souls,

Gave us back what was taken,

So many decades ago -

Humanity.

But fate is a cruel mistress still,

And you reap what you sow;

Tragedy....

"I have received a prophecy...

...I am sorry little ones,"

"We Have No Choice"

[ghostofskywalker]

Nature Heals

this fic is part of the @galactic-gift-gathering (which is still accepting wish lists for anyone who's interested!) and the prompt of "nature heals" came from @blackseafoam! i could not get this idea out of my head all day while i was at work, i just needed to get home and write it. hope you enjoy <3

ao3 link || words: 952 || tech & omega

summary: On one misty morning, Omega and Tech share their apprehensions for the future before the rest of the Batch awake.

The collapse of Kamino had affected her more than she expected, Omega thought as she sat atop a large rock and stared out at the lush forest on one side and the grassy plains on the other. A small creek snaked across the land, the Marauder parked a few steps from its bank. She didn’t know the name of this planet or even where in the galaxy it was located, but the atmosphere had something of a calming effect after what she and her brothers had just endured. 

The the forest at dawn was a different kind of silence, one Omega appreciated as she watched the morning light peek through the trees and reflect off the durasteel of the ship’s hull.Despite the fact that they could have celebrated their escape from the crumbling Tipoca City under less-than favorable odds, it felt like no one aboard had spoken to each other in multiple rotations. 

For the amount of time she had spent dreaming of an escape, hoping to find family and adventure a long was from the watery planet she had spent most of her life on, there was an emptiness in her heart as she remembered the sight of its ruin. It certainly didn’t help that her family was not yet complete. She didn’t know Crosshair like the others did, but that didn’t mean she didn’t share in the desire to bring him home, to free him from the Empire’s grasp and the chip’s influence. The thoughts raced through her mind, and she couldn’t even begin to fathom how the rest of the squad felt right now. 

The sound of footsteps on the ramp of the ship turned Omega’s attention, and she smiled kindly at Tech as he walked in her direction. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and she watched as he hoisted himself up to sit next to her on the stone. “Good morning,” he said, pulling two ration bars from a pocket in his clothes and offering the other to her. 

She accepted the ration bar without much fanfare, though it wasn’t exactly something she looked forward to eating every day. “Morning,” she said softly, unable to conjure up the sunny tone she usually used when talking to her brothers. 

“Are you injured?” Tech asked, clearly able to pick up on the melancholy in her voice. 

Omega shook her head. “No, just tired.”

“There is still quite some time in the day before I expect the others to wake,” Tech responded. “You are more than welcome to try and sleep a little more.” 

“It’s not that kind of tired.” 

Tech paused before speaking again. “I understand,” he said. 

Looking up at him, Omega could see a kind expression on his face. “You do?” 

“This lifestyle is not ideal for anyone,” he responded. “I think that looking over our shoulders with every step has taken a toll on all of us.”

As she finished the ration bar, Omega let her head fall onto Tech’s shoulder. “I wish it wasn’t like this.” 

“Me too Omega, me too.” 

The silence that descended over the two was a comfortable one, both appreciative of the other’s presence but without the need to constantly speak. She had only known Tech and the rest of the Bad Batch for a small amount of time, and already she could tell that an invisible weight had come to rest on their shoulders. Though it was noticeable in different ways among all of the ship’s residents, some managed to hide their growing worries more than others. Hunter’s eyes in particular were a little bit more tired than they had been when she first spoke to him in that Kamino hallway, a fatigue that she didn’t think any amount of sleep would be able to reverse. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to settle somewhere?” Omega asked, looking across the plains, where she knew a village stood in about a half day’s travel. Despite the thirst for adventure she had grown up with in Nala Se’s lab, her desires had been tempered with the danger she and her new family found themselves in from the moment they escaped with her the very first time.

“I really hope so,” Tech responded. His voice was softer and less sure of himself than it usually sounded, and if he was trying to hide any of his trepidation about the future, he wasn’t doing a very good job. 

The rain began before Omega could respond, with one of the first droplets falling from the sky hitting her nose. Tech noticed it as well, and she pulled away from him as the two of them tilted their heads up towards the sky. Unlike on Kamino, where the air held a perpetual chill no matter the weather, this rain was warm to the touch, and it fell at a gentler pace than all the others Omega had experienced. 

“Do you want to go inside?” Tech asked, looking shocked when Omega shook her head. 

“Not really.” 

Her brother nodded as Omega once again rested her head on his shoulder, and she took a breath as the rain started to come down a little harder, admiring the patterns the impact of each droplet made in the already rushing creek. 

Her hair would soon be wet and she would likely have to change her clothes, but right now the allure of the misty woodland was too strong to trade for the utilitarian grey of the ship’s interior. For the briefest of moments, as Omega sat her with her brother, the feeling of the water on her face melted away any lingering stress about what they had been through. 

Whatever the future brought, they would face it together.

[quicksilvrxx]

Hi friend! Idk if you still want to do this or not but I would LOVE age regressor content for Erik Lehnsherr from X-Men (like, him as the regressor) and/or age regressor Charles Xavier

No pressure but just wanted to ask bc I saw your post!

Hullo hullo, now, I have barely any thoughts in regards to regressor Erik and Charles but I shall try and suffice!

Headcanon: Little! Erik is often nonverbal and can commonly be found hiding behind Charles.

Erik knew he regressed, after what he had been through it was obvious his mind decided to revert him mentally to an age filled with love, care, and safety. However, he was never able to indulge in his headspace due to his constant movement of hunting down the scientists who hurt him and millions of others. That was until he met Charles Xavier, the first ever mutant he encountered and learnt he wasn't the only one with a mutation. It was the first time he had felt love, care, and safety, all positive triggers to his regressions.

The first time he regressed with Charles, he remained silent, following the man around without much purpose other than to stay with him for protection. It didn't matter what the telepath was working on, he persisted in staying by his side, staying silent through the questioning and concerned looks directed his way by Charles.

"Erik? Are you quite alright?" Were the first words spoken by Charles when he regressed for the first time in his presence. Erik always remembered his first encounters with people, always preferring Charles' compared to others. Despite his lack of words and sudden clingy nature, Charles chalked it up to a particularly bad day where memories plagued the metal-bender's mind and the man wanted nothing more than comfort. "I see.. well, stay as you would like, I don't mind the company."

And then, it happened several times after that, with Erik finding Charles and clinging to his side despite the weird looks from the other members of the mansion. Charles had grown used to the behaviour, continuing with whatever activities he was doing, whether it was a light bit of reading, a particularly challenging puzzle, or simply working on paper-work for a reason Erik still doesn't quite grasp. "Hm... imagine you want to tell someone how many books you've listened to me read you, so you write it all down. Well, that's what I'm doing except with more boring things like a house and car. We use special papers to keep track of things so nobody forgets and everyone knows what's happening. Oh, you still don't understand, do you?"

Once Erik accidentally knocked over a vase and Raven had teased him that Charles wouldn't be happy with him and he would no longer be Charles' favourite anymore. He had held back tears as he listened to her words, unable to differentiate the difference between a joke and seriousness. He had gone and hid himself somewhere in the mansion, somewhere Charles wouldn't normally look as to avoid a scolding. It didn't matter though, Charles found him and frowned until he learnt that Raven had teased him about the broken vase. Erik would never admit it but he had leapt into Charles' arms when the telepath had confirmed he was still his favourite.

[theheartoftheheir-if]

The Heart of the Heir

DEMO // CHARACTER INTROS // BLOG INFO

status: currently writing & coding

To the Members of the Ton,

It is so nice to be able to come to you for another social season. I can already hear the air buzzing with anticipation on the new couples and the everlasting ties that they will bring to our strong community. People are already parading around like gallivant horses to impress the masses as well as the royal family. It is truly a sight to behold. However this year, my fellow Ton, the tides have changed. This year, instead of the members of high society fighting out in the field for love and marriage opportunities, the King and Queen are announcing their child, the new heir to the throne, to be the one whose hand is up for marriage.

This comes as a bittersweet surprise. After the recent and devastating passing of the King and Queen's first child, the high society’s dazzling Emerald, it would have seemed that the line to the Crown was at stake. To lose a precious jewel is a true defeat. But with every wondrous heir, there will be a spare to fill in the shoes of our perfect Crowned Royal. Our Emerald’s younger sibling will finally have a place to shine in the Sun.

This is a change that no one expected. The Royal Family doesn’t deal with the social season to this caliber. Instead of watching from the sidelines, they will be front and center. It will be interesting to watch and see if our new heir is the right pick for the Crown and the high society that we have all built. Will this new heir be our diamond in the rough or will this be an example of a stone with none of the shimmer and shine that is needed to sit in the throne?

Throughout the season, there will be thoughts and gossip to gather, and I will be your humble servant in the collection and distribution of any and all information I can get. My darling members of the Ton, everything I know, you will know. That’s a promise. Enjoy this season, and to the heir, remember to shine like the gemstones of the past, or you will sink like a pebble in the Thames.

Until we meet again,

The Royal Record Holder

Inspired by Bridgerton and The Pride and Prejudice, the interactive story The Heart of the Heir, is a historical romance that takes place in the Regency Era. You, a young royal and the second and younger child of the King and Queen, unexpectedly become the next in line for the throne when your older sibling passes away. Without the knowledge your elder sibling has gotten, you are trusted into the world of high society and must navigate through the social season. Besides the expectations of being a future ruler, you are expected to find a suitor by the end of the season to lead by your side. You, the heir, must balance the future responsibilities of your nation while staying true to your heart. Will you be what the kingdom expects of you or will you lead by example and break away from tradition that was planned for you?

The Heart of the Heir is an +18 interactive fiction that includes topics of death and grief, substance use (drugs and alcohol), and skippable sexually explicit scenes. This is a romance book, romance will be the focal point. If that isn’t your cup of tea, you have been warned!

A customizable main character including gender, pronouns, sexuality, physical appearance, a skill fit for a royal, your sibling’s gender, family dynamics, and basic morals for your character to start on.

Decide on what type of ruler you want to be: do you lead with compassion and the knowledge that your kingdom comes first? Do you march to the beat of your own drum? Do you wish that you didn’t want the responsibility of the crown?

Navigate the tight community that comes with the Ton. Don’t lose yourself in the hushed secrets that hide behind cups of tea, the art of conversing via fan, and the walk around the lake.

Get courted by one of the four romance options: your royal match, your childhood best friend, the mysterious newcomer, or the lover who lost it all?

Romance Options:

The Royal (Duke/Duchess Edward/Edwina Drake of Exeter): In the eyes of your parents and the Ton, they are the picture perfect suitor for your hand. E was born and bred to be a royal, your partner. Extremely smart, poise, dedicated to their country, E fits the bill and still has amazing qualities. They’re perfect through the rose tinted glasses. But just like you, they have baggage. The expectations to be the best and to prove themselves worthy of their title and their name. The phrase heavy is the head that wears the crown rings true for both of you. The level of perfection that weighs on both of you, could break and destroy the hardest of stones, and to leave them in a disarray. But if you both were there to burden the stress and build each other up, it wouldn’t be all that bad. If you two crumble, at least it will be together.

Trope: Marriage by Convenience.

The Widow (Victor/Violet Clarke): The one that lost a love too. Planned to marry your older sibling, you’ve always seen V as someone respectable and honest. You’ve watched how their and your sibling’s love has blossomed and how their mutual love and understanding for each other stood rival to only your parents. So when someone you both loved died, pieces of your sibling, and their love, died with them. No one can understand the loss like you do. To lose your best friend, your sibling, or your better half, your lover is a level of pain no one should endure. Navigating the hardships of death and grief can be a lonely time, but thankfully you have each other. A budding companionship is on the horizon, or is there a tie of romance that bounds these two mourning souls?

Trope: Second Chance at Love.

The Knight (Helena/Henry Barnes): From birth, it always seemed like you and H were destined to be with each other in some way. H’s father served under yours, and now H serves under you as your right hand, protector and best friend. They’re the most active person in your life, besides your parents. H has always been supportive and protective of you, both as a requirement to the Crown and because no one knows them the way you know them. H knows your next move, your witty comments, and all the minute details even your parents couldn’t pick up. When you look at them, you see yourself in someone like you: dedicated to the role they were given. When they look at you, there’s a great level of fondness, respect and admiration. But is that all, or is there something deeper behind the gazes they give you?

Trope: Childhood Friends to Lovers.

The Outsider (Sayyid/Safiya): A sponsorship. Since the Viscount and Viscountess Beaumont have no heirs to their name, they decided to send word to an old friend to sponsor for the season. As the new arrival to the Ton, S made a name for themselves as the new and allusive candidate for your hand in marriage. The only issue is, you don’t like S. They don’t follow the customs you’re used to, and have no need to fit in. Their forward thinking and bold personality clashes with you, and you’d be damned to have someone mess up your new reputation. S always itches at your patience, and seems to get a rise out of you. It’s infuriating, annoying. They’re like a gnat. Then why do they challenge you to the point where they swarm your mind? Is the level of combativeness something you seek? Is this what you want?

Trope: One-sided Enemies/Rivals to Lovers.

[venomwrites]

CaitVi but involve Jinx?

Spoilers for 2x08

Kind of a followup to Caitlyn cleaning VI up but it's not necessary to read that first

Caitlyn’s body moves without consent as she rides the elevator down. 

She has to do something to make this better. Something for Vi. She has been able to tell herself all kinds of lies with Vi’s absence. Probably with her time before. No, before she just listened to Vi’s bullshit. Because Vi wanted to make he happy. 

There is one thing Vi cares about. 

“I’ll take that,” she says, picking up the tray of food. 

Jinx looks small in the cell. 

Small in the same way Caitlyn saw when they first laid eyes on each other after the flare. She hasn’t since. Caitlyn is intimately familiar with the damage small objects can do. She tells herself she is not fooled by the small, curled up creature who is sobbing into her knees. The stupor that had her listlessly following them has eased. Caitlyn knows this part. Now the grief has dug in its claws. 

Your blood in her veins

Why do you sound like her?

“You sister survived surgery,” she says, unable to listen to the small sounds Jinx is making, “she’s resting.”

“Vi’s alive?” Jinx croaks. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says. She could throw the food at the door and say nothing more. But she thinks of Vi just laying there and how furious she would be, “she isn’t out of the woods but the doctors don’t think she’s in any immediate danger.”

Jinx wipes at her face messily. Just that movement has Caitlyn jerking back, nearly spilling the water on the tray. She is better than this. Better than the memory of those ultraviolet eyes staring at her from her own bathroom mirror. 

“Did you see her?” Jinx questions. 

For a moment it’s Vi looking back at her from that cell. Where did you get these. Caitlyn tries to remember if they had the same eyes before the Shimmer painted JInx’s that color. But the memory of Vi is replaced by the image of her on the hospital bed and finally back to where Jinx is looking at her suspiciously. 

“Yes,” she says. Annoyance pricks at her, “I am not lying,” she snaps. 

Jinx just keeps staring at her and it is unbearable. Caitlyn drops the tray by the food slot and pushes it forward with her foot. She expects Jinx to grab her but she doesn’t. She just watches every move as Caitlyn nudges the tray forward and steps back. Caitlyn cannot take the gaze and walks over to the elevator. 

“Why did you tell me?” Jinx asks. 

“Vi would want you to know.” 

&&&

Vi crashes in the morning. 

It takes three doctors to stabilize her enough before they rush her to surgery again to cut her back open. Find the bleed. Find the swelling. Find what is making her die and relieve it before it can put her down for good. 

Caitlyn can only watch as they swarm over her. 

She’s powerless. 

“She had another surgery,” she tells Jinx. Jinx’s fingertips pause their listless drawing, “She’s alive.”

“She’s not getting better,” Jinx says. 

“That’s not what the doctors say,” Caitlyn shoots back. Jinx scoffs something that sounds suspiciously like Topsider and Caitlyn sees red, “what would you know?! You haven’t been around!”

Jinx lays her head on her knees and shifts enough to lock eyes with her. Caitlyn hates the appraising look in her eyes. She told everyone Jinx was dangerous. Vi always mentioned how smart she was. The bars of the cell are a cold comfort as Caitlyn gets the distinct impression Jinx is here only because she wants to be. 

“You talkin to me or yourself?” She asks. 

The desire to kill her rears up again and immediately gets overwhelmed by the guilt. Jinx is right. Worse, she knows she is right. Who is she to speak about Vi’s state in any sense but the medical one. It’s not just her new, urgent wounds. It’s her half healed ones too. Infected cuts, a fungal infection, vitamin deficiencies, concerning liver values—Vi has been doing everything but taking care of herself. And that, Caitlyn knows, is her fault. 

“I’m telling you what the doctors have said because Vi would want you to know,” Caitlyn says, trying to reach for the voice that puts obedience into people’s hearts, “That is the only reason I’m here. Not to talk to you.”

Jinx looks as though she is going to say something further. But then she looks back down at the floor. Her fingers resume their drawing. Caitlyn wants to remind her she can have her killed with a snap of her fingers. She has all of the power here. 

But then she thinks of Vi with the paddles pressed to her chest.

She has no power when it really counts. 

&&&&

“You say you were out of your mind when we were walking back,” Jinx says, “were you when you kissed her?”

It’s sometimes the bitterest pill to swallow. She can say she was not in her right mind. Dismiss her actions as those of a woman mad with grief. But she wanted to kiss Vi. She wanted to kiss her for so long. To feel the cut in Vi’s lips against her own, to feel what it felt like to have Vi’s arms around her. Not out of pity but out of desire. And they were, they were around her and then Caitlyn had to go and ruin everything. 

“Do you love her?” 

The words make her freeze. 

Jinx waits until she is crouched in front of the cell with the tray to ask. Vi is alive, healing. Caitlyn tells herself it’s security that drives her down here to deliver the tray. It’s been a hard day so she lets herself have the excuse. 

“Why would I answer that?” Caitlyn demands, “why would I talk about my feelings with you?”

Jinx considers her. 

“You keep coming down here,” she points out, “you didn’t even say if Vi had surgery today.” 

Caitlyn strongly dislikes being called out. But Jinx is not wrong. She does keep coming down here. She doesn’t even tell herself it’s because she’s concerned about someone poisoning Jinx. She barely touches the food except when she’s threatened with force feedings. 

“I want to know if there’s a person in you,” she says. 

“No,” Jinx replies. 

“No?” 

“She chose me,” Jinx says, “you’re trying to figure out why because you hate me.” 

Anger surges through her.

“You destroyed the Undercity and killed my mother! Of course I hate you!” Caitlyn shouts. 

The anger is blinding, but it’s unsatisfied. It doesn’t feel good to shout at this broken creature. She can cling to things like the law and intent all she wants. The fact is if Jinx was from a respectable family in Piltover a judge would call her insane and send her for treatment. 

“I kidnapped you.”

“What?” She looks at her.

“If we’re listing my crimes. I kidnapped you,” she draws on the ground, “I blew up my dad—“ her face tightens, “there are others,” she looks at Caitlyn, “Vi still chose me.” 

She’s back in that temple screaming at Vi. Hitting her. Leaving her. Like everyone leaves her. 

“Yes, alright. I hate that she chose you,” Caitlyn says before she can properly think. Jinx looks at her. Caitlyn doesn’t want to be here confessing things. But Vi is slowly dying up there. And Caitlyn cannot confess to her, “you’ve caused so much pain.”

“But she loves me,” Jinx says, “I was happy when she chose me but then I saw how unhappy she was without you,” Caitlyn feels sick, “she didn’t choose me completely. She chose you too. It just wasn’t enough for you. But she does love you.” 

Caitlyn presses her back against the wall. Somewhere she surely knew what Jinx is saying. Which means she’s right. It wasn’t enough. Vi never chooses anything in half measures and the fact she chose this to try it out—it stings. It feels like a betrayal. It isn’t and Caitlyn hates that she knows that and her heart doesn’t care. 

“Everything she did, she did it for you,” Jinx continues, “that’s what Vi does. She’ll go to the ends of the earth for the people she loves,” her eyes peer at Caitlyn’s through a mess of blue hair, “it’s hard to be loved like that.”

Caitlyn feels her throat go tight but she shoves the feeling back. 

They both know Jinx is right. 

&&&&

“It’s an eating day,” Caitlyn announces as she pushes the tray through the slot. Jinx gives her an annoyed look, “it’s been two days. You know what will happen.”

Jinx sighs and picks up the sandwich. On days when she eats her energy perks back. She’s more talkative, more alert. Caitlyn likes those days because it is much easier to hate her on them. She looks down at the water Jinx has used to paint things. Much to her shock, she recognizes something.

“Is that Jayce’s old studio?”

“No,” Jinx says, “that’s just some guy we robbed,” her brows knit together, “when everything went wrong.”

“When you blew it up!” Caitlyn says. Jinx pauses and for the first time looks intrigued, “I was there!”

“You were?”

“Yes! The door was jammed. We couldn’t open it,” her mind is spinning, “you—Vi was there?” Jinx nods slowly. Caitlyn tries to think back to that hallway. She remembers the sounds of people scrambling and the muttered voices, “I dropped something.”

“So did I,” Jinx laments, “after we heard you.”

“You heard me,” Caitlyn repeats. 

Jinx gives her a halfhearted annoyed look. Caitlyn knows she’s repeating things but she cannot help it. Vi was on the other side of that door. She presses her fingertips to her lips. Tries to imagine what Vi may have looked like at that age. Her stomach twists when she realizes the rocket Jinx fired at her mother was not the only time she tried to blow up someone Caitlyn loved. The familiar anger is acidic in her mouth but it’s more vinegar than bile. 

Because Vi was there too. 

And slowly Caitlyn is realizing that may matter more. 

&&&&

The day Vi starts to wake up is the worst day of Caitlyn’s life. 

She knows it does not happen all at once. It’s a gradual process. But it’s hell. She cannot kick the doctors out. She does not know what to do. She can only watch as they remove tubes and try to cajole a response from Vi. Vi struggles and makes the most horrible sounds that cut through Caitlyn’s defenses. It hurts so much to see she practically flees down to Jinx’s cell. 

“What happened?” Jinx is instantly at the bars.

“She’s waking up,” Caitlyn chokes out. 

“Okay? Why do you look like that?” Jinx questions, “Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, she’s in pain,” she says. Jinx rolls her eyes like Caitlyn has just said the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. Maybe it is. Vi is always in some kind of pain, “I don’t like seeing her in pain.” 

“Me neither but you look wrecked,” Jinx observes. 

“I—“ Caitlyn stops. Collects herself. Jinx sighs and shakes her head. 

“You’re not going to do anything about it.”

“That’s not true!”

“You think when she wakes up its gonna be sunshine and roses?” She shakes her head, “Vi’s going to yell at you and scare you off. Just don’t hit her this time she’s still healing.” 

“How dare you!” Caitlyn glares. 

“I’m not the one who hit her,” she says. 

Caitlyn can scarcely believe her ears. Jinx has done so much worse. Nearly killed her more times than she can count. Caitlyn knows she has made terrible mistakes but this is different. Surely it is different. They are not comparable. 

You sound like her

 Only one of them flooded the Undercity with drugs. 

You sound like her

Hurt Vi

You sound like her

It’s her blood in your veins!

Caitlyn’s back hits the wall. 

“You sound like her,” the words slip out of her mouth, “that’s why I’m here. You sound like her.”

Jinx moves over and places herself in the corner closest to Caitlyn. It’s only a wall that separates them. In another world perhaps it is her in the cell and Jinx is the one who prevents all of this. Maybe then Vi gets to be happy. 

“You love her, don’t you?”

Caitlyn nods, though she knows Jinx cannot see her. She cannot say those words to her first. No matter how human she has become as they both wait for Vi to wake up. 

“What if she chooses me again?” Jinx asks. 

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says.

“Will you still love her?”

Caitlyn wishes this was not a real question. Then she feels like a fool for realizing it will always be a facet of whatever it is between them. It is Jinx’s blood flowing through her veins. And Caitlyn has reflected her actions in every scream of grief. They have both brought Vi to this place. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn whispers. 

“What if you mess it up again?” Jinx asks. 

“I’m a Kiramman,” Caitlyn snaps, “we don’t fail.” 

Something sets in Jinx’s eyes. She considers Caitlyn for a long moment and then gets to her feet. 

“I’m not going to talk to you anymore,” Jinx says and walks to the far corner. “Next time you come down here it should be to kill me,” she says. 

&&&

Vi wakes up properly. 

And everything changes. 

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 7 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Please feel free to comment and telling me what you think of the story, it would make me very happy. In any case, thank you for reading ❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapter 7

The time had come. They had flown at a crazy speed after crossing the wall but had still not been fast enough. When they had decided that they could finally return to the Archerons' domain to find out if Feyre's sisters had received answers from the queens, none of the three Illyrians, despite the amount of work they had to do, had wanted to miss this opportunity to see their possible soulmate again.

They hadn't even had time to go see the Suriel and in fact, none of them really wanted to. They had wanted to do it but every time one of the three suggested going, a ball of anxiety formed in their stomachs. They were far too afraid of what the Suriel could say because in both cases, it would change their lives forever.

They were afraid that the Suriel would tell them that this link with Luxiana was a lie, that this link with this sunny, cute and pleasant young woman was not true, and then, they would never recover. They had felt so many emotions, fear but especially happiness when meeting her that telling them that this link was false would make them feel like they were losing their true soul mate even if she was not.

But deep down, that wasn't what the three Illyrians feared the most. No. What they were afraid of, what kept them awake at night, wasn't that this bond forming between the three of them and their soulmate was false, but that it was true. Because that meant a whole world of change.

It meant that their sibling relationship with their brothers would change forever, that they would be connected in a much greater and deeper way than before.

It meant they would have to share the woman of their lives with two other men and they wouldn't be able to have her all to themselves.

It meant putting their soulmate in danger because of who they were. It meant days of anguish and fear trying to protect a fragile, seemingly suicidal human who was absolutely not going to help them in the process.

But most of all, it meant that their time with her was limited. She was human and so, she would grow old. She would grow old without them. And she would eventually die without them. Of course, they would never get over it. They didn't know her but it was already a certainty for them, they would follow her anywhere even in death. That said, knowing that their days with her would be so short killed them with sadness. When they thought about it, their shoulders hunched, their eyes faded, their stomachs exploded and their hearts tightened. They would not have an eternity with their soulmate but a few precious days numbered. And that terrified them.

But it also meant one thing, that they had already wasted too much time away from her. Their bodies and minds couldn't stay away from her for too long without driving them completely crazy anyway. Their hearts, their stomachs, their skins and every single muscle they had were aching with every second they were away from her and their minds were slowly killing them by making them imagine the worst. By making them visualize Luxiana's body in another man's arms, laughing with another, or by making them imagine her cute little face looking lovingly at someone who wasn't them. Sometimes, when they were really not well, when they were worried, they remembered that their soulmate could get sick and even die because of a simple stupid thing. They imagined her injured or sometimes even lifeless and it destroyed them. It would destroy them.

They were already worried sick even though they didn't even know her. It was all that anxiety and sleepless nights that had made Rhysand decide. He had waited as long as he could, but those few weeks away from her had been hell. He knew he should have waited a little longer before returning to the Archerons, and that he had to give the queens a little more time to answer him, but he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to see her. He needed to make sure she was okay. He needed to make sure she could still be his. Theirs.

He hadn't even asked his two brothers if they wanted to come, knowing full well that these last few days had been as hellish for them as they had been for him. He had simply gotten up this morning and given in to his desire to want to find her. "It's time," he had just said to his brothers when he arrived in the dining room this morning and they had followed him hastily without even asking what he was talking about, knowing full well that it was about their soulmate. It was always about their mate anyway.

They hadn't even had lunch. Actually, they hadn't eaten much these last few days. Even Cassian. His love for food had completely disappeared, which worried Mor and even Amren a lot. In fact, the way the three brothers had been behaving since they had met that girl worried Mor and Amren. They didn't know what they could do to help but Azriel was on edge all the time yelling at the first thing that pissed him off, Cassian had become as silent as Azriel before and Rhysand had lost his taste for everything. In fact, the only time they had seen excitement and joy in their eyes since they had returned from the Archerons, had been when they talked about that girl and this morning.

The three Illyrians were breathing again. They were going to see her and that was all that mattered. Cassian was flying around, smiling with joy and excitement at the thought of seeing her again. Rhysand was flapping his wings with all his might to get to her as quickly as possible. Azriel was fighting against his anxiety at the thought of finding her injured or with someone else.

They weren't even sure if she would be in the Archerons' house today but they knew that either way, they would look everywhere for her and not leave until they saw her or made sure she was okay.

As they landed, invisible, in front of the door of the mansion, the excitement and reluctance bubbling in their bodies nearly made them jump on the spot. Cassian knocked on the door, much louder than necessary.

After a few moments, an old woman, a servant, comes to open the door for them. Seeing no one at the door, the three Faes being invisible, she frowned as she looked a little more closely at the door frame. But Rhys allowed himself to get into the old woman's head to force her to go and warn one of the Archerons of their presence. Which she did, her gaze devoid of life.

The maid left, even leaving the door open, having only one goal: to warn one of the Archerons of the presence of someone important at the door. Azriel closed the door, not wanting to let a cold that could make his soulmate sick enter the house.

Unfortunately, the old woman returned with the coldest of the Archerons, Nesta.

Nesta descended the stairs with a heavy step, almost irritated, going with an anger visible on her face towards the front door. She did not want to see the Faes again and in addition to not having announced themselves, they had dared to enter the head of their servant to force her to do something. Nesta was shaking with anger and if it had not been those powerful Faes on her doorstep, she would have left them outside. Especially since they had announced during their first visit that they would return next week, why were they already there? She opened the door a little wider than necessary, silently inviting invisible Faes to enter by pointing to the hall with her hand and moving to the side.

Seeing the sister who had opened the door for them, Cassian grimaced, Azriel sighed and Rhysand closed his eyes tightly. They would have preferred to come across someone else. A pretty blonde, with almost white hair for example.

The three faes rushed into the house in a hurry. Fortunately, because Nesta slammed the door a little too quickly, probably hoping that one of the Faes would take it in their face. A little disappointed that this was not the case, Nesta grimaced with disdain as the sound of the door closing violently still echoed in the hall. She rushed with heavy steps up the stairs while the Illyrians followed her reluctantly. She climbed up to the first floor where she opened the door to one of the rooms.

Nesta half-stepped into the room, pressing herself against the door to let the faes enter. The Illyrians looked around the vast chamber from floor to ceiling, noting the gold silk sheets on the enormous bed and the blue velvet curtains on the large bay windows.

“I am not dealing with that,” Nesta spat coldly as she stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

The Illyrians frowned as she left, thinking they would be left alone in a room, but suddenly a white-haired head came out from behind a three-drawer dresser at the other end of the room and slightly away from the wall.

Luxiana's head raised, her eyebrows furrowed, a confused and surprised look fixed on the door, on Nesta who had just left.

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel's eyes widened as they noticed the blonde in the room. A ball of anxiety and a weight of disappointment left them, allowing them to take a deep breath. Then their chests swelled with joy, excitement, and apprehension. She was there.

She still had a completely undone bun that made the Illyrians smirk. She looked careless and they loved it, especially since she looked so cute with all her strands of hair hanging around her face.

Luxiana straightened up fully from behind the dresser where she had been, a butter knife in her hand, making every muscle in the Illyrian tense. What was she doing there with a butter knife? She could hurt herself.

“Huh?” she said simply, still staring at the door, not seeing the faes who were still invisible. “Nesta?” she called out, almost running towards the door. “What are you talking about?”

A wave of fear electrified the Illyrians as they saw her running with a knife in her hands. What if she fell and stabbed herself? When she put her hand on the doorknob to open it and catch Nesta, Rhysand put his hand on the blonde's, stopping her and Azriel almost threw himself on her to snatch the knife from her hands.

Luxiana gasped in surprise as she felt an invisible person's fingers on her hand while another stole her knife. She turned and put her back to the door, her brow furrowed, her muscles tensed ready to defend herself but her hand was still in Rhysand's.

The three Fae made themselves visible and Cassian raised his hands in the air in front of him in a sign of appeasement. They could not, however, help but examine her greedily, feeling relieved, almost believing that she was a dream. She was there, in front of them and she was fine. She was fine.

“Forgive us, we didn't mean to scare you,” Rhysand whispered, smiling kindly at her, looking at her with concern.

When she recognized the faes, Luxiana relaxed, blowing out all the air she had been holding. And to think that she had nearly slit their throats, to such sexy creatures, what a sacrilege it would have been. She placed her free hand on her heart, a relieved expression on her face. “Are you crazy? I could have hurt you!”

The Illyrians looked at each other in surprise before bursting into laughter as they looked tenderly at the young woman. Cassian's hands pressed against his stomach and Rhysand had to reluctantly release his soulmate's hand on the doorknob.

Luxiana opened her mouth in shock, before gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes, glaring at them, realizing they were openly mocking her. She crossed her arms. If only they knew she could knock them down whenever she wanted, and she didn't know what was stopping her from doing so when she had made others eat the ground for less than that.

“Forgive us,” Rhysand repeated, seeing the blonde's annoyance and wiping a tear of hilarity from the corner of his eyes to stop laughing softly at the same time as his brothers.

The blonde huffed as she relaxed. They were lucky they were so hot and that one of them had saved Feyre. “So you’re what Nesta was referring to, I guess.”

Cassian grimaced as he suddenly stopped laughing, “I think she doesn’t like us, actually.”

Luxiana laughed softly as she turned her head to the side “Don’t take it personally, she doesn’t like many people.”

But when she turned her head to the side, the Illyrians could notice a huge bruise on the corner of her jaw, the skin of which was completely damaged and still had dried blood on it. Someone had hit her. They froze from head to toe, their eyes widening and their smiles faded away.

Rhysand's heart tightened in his chest. Cassian tensed every muscle in pain. A wave of anger washed over Azriel, paralyzing him entirely.

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, the blonde looked at them and lost her smile when she saw their serious, angry and surprised expressions. They could almost seem intimidating like that.

Cassian blinked and went to ask her what had happened to her, but Azriel reacted without being able to stop himself. He grabbed the blonde's chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting her face to the side so he could observe the purple, bloody angle of her jaw. The sight made his anger raise. His breathing rushed. He couldn't breathe. They couldn't breathe. If anyone had hurt her, they swore they would set the world on fire.

“Who did this to you?” scream the Illyrian with the red siphons with a mixture of surprise and anger in his voice.

The blonde pulled away from Azriel's hold - who groaned as he felt the blonde's skin leave his - then she stepped back in shock, sticking herself completely to the door behind her. She frowned a little more as she looked at them one by one with incomprehension. What were they playing at? In which way could it possibly matter to them? That said, it was cute.

“Did someone hurt you?” Rhysand asked, taking a step forward, his body almost pressed against Luxiana’s.

“Someone hit you,” Azriel added in a cold voice, detailing her with anger so strong it rang in his ears.

Luxiana's eyes widened in realization. "Ah, that," she exclaimed, pointing at the angle of her jaw. She fake-laughed, running one of her hands over the back of her head, embarrassed. She couldn't help but look away, blushing in shame. "Uh, yeah, I fought," she tried to find an excuse.

“You fought?” Cassian repeated, his eyes widening in surprise. This little woman fought?

“Uh yeah, yeah. Ha ha.” she looked away again, searching in the four corners of the room for a solution. “That was quite a fight, the guy i fought never got up.” She adorably threw her fists in front of her as if she were hitting someone.

Azriel frowned.

Cassian grabbed her fists, forcing her to stand still and eyeing her seriously. “Easy, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“And you’re lying to us,” Azriel added with a little uncertainty, looking her up and down with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t sure, but she seemed embarrassed to talk about something. She seemed to be making something up.

Luxiana twitched, frowning for a microsecond. “What?” She giggled at Azriel’s accusations, blushing a little more. “No, not at all… I…” She stopped under the accusing and scrutinizing gaze of the three faes in front of her. Ugh, she really was a bad liar. That was her only flaw. She sighed in resignation. “Yes, yes, I’m lying… I fell.”

“You fell?” Rhysand repeated, almost shouting in surprise. “What do you mean you fell ?”

“Yeah, miserably.” Luxiana grimaced, her face now completely red. She bit her lip. Damn, those Faes weren’t going to be intimidated by her after that, if they ever could have been. “I just splayed out like a pancake on the floor.” She pursed her lips together, making them almost disappear into her cheeks, grimacing embarrassedly.

The Illyrians looked at her without being able to do anything else. She fell? She fell? Their soulmate fell ? And she told them this while making the cutest face possible.

Rhysand stared at Luxiana with narrowed eyes. Was she that clumsy? Was it possible? He took a step back. Had fate really given him such a clumsy soulmate when his own life was filled with danger? His heart felt like it was trembling with fear and apprehension in his chest.

Cassian smiled as he detailed the blonde's expression. She was cute. He relaxed his muscles slowly, one by one. He released his fists which she let fall limply to her sides. He crossed his arms as he stared at her with a mocking look that Luxiana intercepted by shooting him with her pupils, accentuating the Illyrian's hilarity.

Azriel took a step back, huffing as he did and pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. His soulmate fell. Was he really going to have to bubble wrap her and lock her in his room to make sure she didn’t hurt herself? Damn, she could have broken her neck. He clenched his fists. He really didn’t like this ball of anxiety in his stomach. He was already worrying too much about her.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking.” Luxiana chuckled. “And the worst part is that it happens to me a lot… Like… A lot…” She crossed her arms, suddenly staring into a blank space with sadness. She wanted to take a step back, but she was already backed up against the door. She grabbed the bracelet on her wrist. A simple silver chain with blue gemstones on it. She stroked it with her fingertips. “I… I kind of lost my balance when I was little.” An infinite sadness crossed her face for a second. A sadness of such power and depth that it disarmed Rhysand, who had been the only one to see it.

Luxiana shook her head, her usual haughty demeanor returning. Rhys narrowed his eyes, realizing it was one of her defense mechanisms. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. What had she been through to act like this?

“But I still can kill you with this butter knife,” Luxiana said as if nothing had happened, pointing at the knife still in one of Azriel’s hands. “So do not mock me.” 

She took a step forward and with a quick movement tried to take the knife back but, although Azriel was surprised to see her move so quickly, he had the reflex to avoid her, withdrawing his arm and raising the knife in the air.

Luxiana started jumping to try to get it back but she was too small. “Give it back to me” she shouted out of breath from her jumping.

“No,” Azriel replied coldly without meaning to. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his tone, obsessed by the vision of the blonde jumping near him and disturbed by her proximity, making his heart explode in his chest. Luxiana’s scent climbed up to Azriel’s nostrils. Vanilla. She smelled like vanilla. Azriel had to grit his teeth. He loved it.

Cassian laughed, taking a few steps back to rest his butt on the foot of the bed, admiring the scene mockingly but the truth was his heart filled with joy.

Rhysand in turn detailed the scene with a smile but a bitter aftertaste remained on his palate. He hoped with all his guts that he was wrong and that the sadness he had seen in his soulmate was just him imagining things.

“Why did you steal it from me in the first place?” she screamed, jumping around Azriel trying to grab the knife still in his raised hand as high as she could. “Give it back, damn it!”

Rhysand huffed with a smile, he placed his hands on the young woman's shoulders, immobilizing her. She gave him a questioning look from her small heigh and Rhysand thought he would melt inside. His soulmate.

Cassian laughed heartily. She was so cute and she fit in so well with him and his brothers. “Why were you walking around with a knife anyway? And what were you doing behind that dresser?”

“That's…” she huffed, scowling and crossing her arms. “You're always asking questions. It's none of your business.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow at her, urging her with a stern look to tell him what she was doing. It concerned him, after all.

Rhysand narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly towards her, trying to see through her, even trying to catch a thought of hers that would be the answer to his questions but her mind still remained closed.

Cassian looked at her intently, tilting his head, a smirk on his lips.

A silence settled where the young woman's gaze oscillated between the three Illyrians who stared at her with a piercing gaze. Luxiana did everything not to feel intimidated, or at least not to show it because inside she was completely red under these intense looks. She took a step back, lowering her eyes for a second and clearing her throat to give herself composure. How did these three faes manage to disconcert her every time? She sighed in resignation. "Elain lost the key to her dresser so I was trying to unscrew the back to get the inside."

The three Illyrians smiled satisfied to see the effect they had on their soulmate and that they had managed to make her give in.

“You wanted to unscrew with a butter knife?” Cassian laughed at the top of his lungs.

She glared at him, biting her tongue. He was annoying and his superior air was getting on her nerves. He honestly had no idea what she could do with that butter knife and she was dying to show him but he was way too sexy to ruin his pretty face with scars.

She groaned and then rolled her eyes. “But you’re surely not here for that,” trying to change the subject of conversation and trying to regain control of her emotions.

Cassian could see how much he was getting on the little blonde's nerves and boy did he love it. She was so cute when she was angry.

Azriel put the butter knife in one of his pockets under Luxiana's dark gaze that was glaring at him. There was no way he was going to give her back her knife when she could hurt or even kill herself with it. He crossed his arms but his muscles were still tense, ready to intervene to prevent her from getting the knife back if she wanted to. She actually had no interest in even thinking about it. It would drive Azriel crazy. He would have to teach her to obey.

Rhysand regained a minimum of seriousness, still looking at the blonde with tenderness, not even able to think properly anymore. Why did they come here? They were here to see her, right? “The queens,” he reminded himself. “We came to know if you received a response from them.”

Luxiana tilted her head with a frown, eyeing them suspiciously one by one. Why were they already here? “I thought Feyre had told me this visit would take place next week. Was I mistaken? Was there a problem that would require moving this appointment forward?”

Rhysand holds back a grimace. He had to find an excuse, and fast. “No. That was what we agreed to, indeed.”

Luxiana looked at the high Lord waiting for an explanation that didn't come. "Then why did you come today?" she insisted.

Cassian smiled “because we were a little too eager to see you again.” Luxiana narrowed her eyes at him, electrifying him once again. It did that to him every time she laid eyes on him, damn it.

Luxiana knew that these words were not true and that it was only to hide the reason for their visit today but she couldn't help. She had to hold back a smile of pleasure. She would have loved for Cassian's words to be sincere. She huffed and rolled her eyes, giving up on the idea of getting the answer she wanted. They were apparently not ready to tell her why they had moved up the date of their meeting. She would have to investigate and find out why herself.

She turned her eyes back to Rhysand, ignoring Cassian and his words or Azriel’s intense gaze. “To answer your question, yes, we did receive a response. Yesterday, in fact.”

Luxiana grabbed her pale blue petticoat to lift it up. She first revealed her ankle, then her calf and her thigh where a white lace garter holding a folded sheet of paper was located.

Rhysand froze, Azriel's gaze flared, and Cassian had to sit up straight. What was she doing? Her legs were thin and her skin felt so soft. Their hearts began to pound wildly in their chests.

Luxiana grabbed the piece of paper from under the garter to pull it out. She handed it to Rhysand as she released her skirts which fell back down to her legs much to the dismay of the three Illyrians. “This is the letter we received.” She kept it on her to make sure no one got to discover it.

Rhysand blinked a few times to come back to reality and grabbed the piece of paper she handed him.

“They agreed to meet you,” Luxiana added. “They gave a date.”

Rhysand unfolded the letter and began to read it, once done he smiled as he gave a hopeful look to Cassian and Azriel who returned it to him.

Luxiana intercepted this look and expressions with great curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked Rhysand.

“Whatever you want,” he replied, looking back at her.

“Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help humans? I mean, you clearly have nothing to gain from this.” Luxiana looked at him, hoping to understand something in his expression. No matter how hard she torments her brain, she didn’t understand why he was doing this. He had nothing to win from this. She had thought about the fact that maybe he was trying to betray them and that he was on the side of the King of Hybern, but none of her sources of information, that she had devoted the last few days, had found any connection between him and Hybern. And then, he had saved Feyre, she simply refused to believe that they were that bad.

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand smiled as they looked at her. She was so beautiful and she seemed so intelligent.

“My mother dreamed of seeing humans and Faes living in perfect coexistence together. She considered all living beings equally. I wish I could make her dream come true.” Rhysand said, his voice heavy with meaning and feeling.

Luxiana heard his sincerity and understood the sadness in his eyes. He had lost his mother. “Then why not let Hybern destroy the wall, we will all be forced to live together.”

“Not like this. Cohabitation must be wanted by both sides and Hybern doesn’t just want to destroy the wall, he wants to enslave your species. I won’t let him.” Rhysand lifted his hand, gently placing it on Luxiana’s soft, plump cheek, caressing it with his fingertips. His gaze went blank. “I couldn’t let him hurt humans, not when you’re one of them.”

Luxiana frowned for a second, surprised by his words. He seemed absent and had given the impression of thinking out loud which added a bit of sincerity to his words. But she didn't really understand the meaning of his sentence. Why would he do that for her? She glanced at Cassian and Azriel to see their expressions and try to get some kind of answer but they were both looking at her intensely with a serious face. She frowned even more and then gave Rhysand a suspicious sideways glance. She leaned towards him with a mischievous look, causing Rhysand’s arm to fall limply to his side. “Is this some way of flirting with me, my lord?”

Rhysand came back to himself, smiling. He looked down on her but not in a haughty way, in a tender way. “Maybe so, does it work?”

Luxiana smiled, holding back a laugh. “Maybe.” She remained mysterious despite herself because, holy shit, it worked.

Rhysand smirked and took a deep breath to speak but was interrupted by the door opening abruptly. He took a step back to avoid getting hit in his head and grabbed Luxiana by the arm to shift her to the side. Azriel reacted just as quickly by grabbing the blonde by the forearm to pull her towards him, but due to lack of balance, Luxiana stumbled and crashed into the chest of the Illyrian with the blue siphons. He wrapped his arms around her to catch her and prevent her from falling. A wave of adrenaline and worry surged through Cassian's body who straightened up with wide eyes, hands raised, ready to catch Luxiana if she fell.

Nesta remained in the entrance of the room, positioning herself under the door frame. She detailed the scene before her, observing Rhysand holding Luxiana's arm, Cassian a few centimeters away standing with his hands outstretched towards her and Luxiana in Azriel's arms. She grimaced with pronounced disgust.

Cassian and Rhysand breathed a sigh of relief when they saw that Luxiana hadn't hurt herself, then glared at Nesta. Azriel didn't even see the oldest of the Archeron sisters, too disturbed by the waves of warm feelings that stirred in his body because of the blonde's face buried in his pectorals and her body so thin and fragile glued to him. He had never felt such a feeling of comfort, warmth and tenderness. Such a feeling that made his heart melt in his chest.

Luxiana leaned her palms on the Illyrian's chest to straighten up but Azriel could only tighten his grip around her, preventing her from moving away. Luxiana threw him a questioning look from below although her cheeks were completely red as she was embarrassed by the situation. It was the shame of her life. She had been so absorbed by Rhysand's violet eyes that she had not reacted when Nesta had opened the door. She had had to be saved by Rhysand and Azriel and she had almost fallen again.

“I can’t keep the servants from entering the corridor and passing by the door much longer. They’ll hear your voices eventually,” Nesta said coldly, still eyeing them with a grimace. She noticed the queens’ letter in Rhysand’s hands. “You got what you came for. Go away.”

Cassian's arms fell limply to his sides and his nostril flared in anger. He hated this sister, she had nothing to do with his soulmate.

Azriel finally noticed Nesta, raising a dark look towards her. How dare she speak to them like that and above all, how dare she look at his mate with so much disdain? If Luxiana had not been in his arms making him the happiest fae in the world, he would have wanted to tear out the tongue of this viper.

Rhysand fought back a grimace. Nesta’s tone was clear, they had to leave. They couldn’t stay with their soulmate any longer. He could get inside the eldest sister’s head and force her to leave them alone, but as much as a part of him wanted to, wanting more than anything to stay with his soulmate, his good conscience screamed at him that it was wrong and that Luxiana would surely hold it against him. And he couldn’t jeopardize a potential meeting with the queens in a perfect place like this anyway. He nodded. “We’ll leave.”

Azriel and Cassian looked at Rhys in surprise before understanding and glaring at Nesta. Luxiana detailed the silent interaction between the three Illyrians, trying to understand those reactions. She put her hands on Azriel's chest again, propelling herself further away from him with a little more force than before.

Azriel looked down at her, growling as he felt her try to pull away from him but eventually reluctantly let go of her, knowing they had to go.

Luxiana was able to take a few steps away, lowering her head, dead with shame and completely red.

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel felt like every muscle in their bodies was vibrating and their chests were swelling at the sight of how cute their soulmate was. She was adorable like that.

Cassian raised his hand to the blonde's face with the intention of raising it and admiring her blushes with a proud smile, but Rhysand, not wanting to let anything show in front of Nesta, grabbed his brother's wrist and lowered it.

“We're leaving,” said the high lord, taking a step toward the door.

Nesta pressed her back against the door to let them pass. “You know where the exit is.”

Rhysand nodded and then took another step towards the door, stopping beside Luxiana. He leaned towards her, shivering at her vanilla scent. He placed his lips gently and quickly on her cheek, giving her a little kiss. “Be careful, please.”

Luxiana shivered at the contrast of the heat that exploded in her lower abdomen at the high lord's breath on her ear. She raised her now even redder face towards him at his words.

Rhysand straightened up, a smirk on his lips, proud of the reaction he had provoked on his soulmate. He took a few steps forward, past her and closer to the door, reluctantly moving away from his mate. Then he glanced at Cassian and Azriel, nodding towards the door, silently indicating that he had to leave.

Cassian huffed through gritted teeth, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to stay with his soulmate longer, then he looked at her and relaxed. She was so cute. Damn, he couldn't stand being away from her for much longer. He didn't even feel like he could breathe without her anymore. These weeks away from her had already been pure torture when they didn't even know each other. He needed to touch her so much. He slowly closed the distance between her and him and then gently took her in his arms, jealous of what Azriel had done previously. He put his hands on her back, pulling her closer to him, furtively placing his nose on the top of her head to breathe in her scent. He had to stop himself from growling. Her scent tickled him all over.

Luxiana's eyes widened, throwing her hands up in the air next to Cassian, surprised by his gesture. Was this fae hugging her? She had frozen but as she was about to come out of her stupor to hug him back, feeling far too comfortable in his arms not to, Cassian quickly released her, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable.

He put his dark pupils into the blonde's electric blue eyes, his hands on her shoulders. "Don't fall and don't start a fight." He smiled at her tenderly before looking her over one last time and then releasing her to stand next to Rhysand.

Azriel stood in front of the blonde, placing his index finger under her chin to force her to raise her head towards him and look him in the eyes. The blonde blushed a little more under the intensity of his gaze and his gesture, making Azriel smile. He slowly leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead, his lips barely brushing the blonde's skin, too afraid to scare her. "If anything happens to you, I won't be happy, so be careful."

Luxiana shivered again, her eyes shining in surprise as the three Illyrians turned invisible and exited the room. Nesta gave her one last look of disdain before closing the door, allowing Luxiana to let out a huge breath. What had just happened here? Besides, she needed a new butter knife now.