#(especially at that point when he knew his status with the team had changed) but i cannot verbalise any of them coherently today

[nouearth]

breaking news.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: bruce has been making national headlines once again, but this time, you're caught up in it.

warnings: bale!bruce, panicked!reader, media frenzy surrounding relationship with bruce!

dating bruce wayne in public included explosive media coverage when the news of your relationship first leaked. for weeks upon weeks, it was all every news outlet and the public could talk about—gossip about. people couldn't flip through their tv, or scroll through their phone without seeing:

THIS JUST IN: BRUCE WAYNE, MULTI-BILLIONAIRE PHILANTHROPIST AND PLAYBOY, CAUGHT IN ROMANTIC RENDEZVOUS WITH... A MAN?

it all started with a photo; a voyeuristic shot that framed you and bruce sitting in one of the restaurants that he'd invested in, holding hands and laughing by the candle light. it was one of the many dates where he closed business for the night for privacy reasons—to keep you safe from the public's eye. and judging from the angle, it was evident that it was one of the employees that had managed to stay back in the building.

to be honest, it was tasteful. nothing scandalous or even remotely explicit, especially if you had to compare to the scandals of men of bruce's status. as much as you felt like your privacy was invaded, you couldn't help but feel relieved when you saw bruce's smile in the photo. the way he looked at you with such doting eyes, his thumb caressing over the bridge between your index and thumb, the plates of food left cold because you were addicted to his company, and vice versa.

it was an intimate moment that was ruined by selfishness—greed.

for a brief moment, you felt... scared. the windows in your apartment were immediately shut and blinded by curtains; the locks in your doors were triple-checked; your passwords were immediately changed to new ones you'd probably forget in the future. you felt eyes on your back, pierced through the walls, watching your every move even if they hadn't.

and as much as you teased bruce about leaving him after your fifteen minutes of fame, you needed him more than ever.

"bruce, what do i—what's happening?""alfred's coming, you're at home, right? i'm talking with my security team right now and—"

it wouldn't be long until people found out who the 'mysterious man' in question was.

in less than an hour, your social media presence had a tenfold increase. photos on your feed received more comments and likes you could ever count. many of them ran with the narrative that you were simply an object of bruce's undisclosed desire for men, his boy toy. and before you knew it, the news outlet began reporting the same, including their own findings of your life.

dating bruce wayne in public included him hugging you as soon as you arrived to his manor. it was a protective instinct that had been brewing since he heard how panicked—how afraid you were—on the phone. while multiple phones rang off the hook, bruce took the time to let you breathe into you, to find a sense of peace as he held you, comforted you with affectionate words in your ear, affectionate touches that rendered you calm and ultimately safe again.

dating bruce wayne in public included bruce addressing his relationship with you in a press conference. it was silly that it had come to this point, but he made sure his feelings regarding how the news outlets had turned a relationship between two men into a media frenzy were known.

"yes, i am in a loving relationship with (M/N)." "no, i am not dating a man for relevancy." "who wears the pants—really? security, let's escort him out, please?" "no, my fiancé is not what those rumors have suggested." "and yes, (M/N) is my fiancé. be kinder, and i ever so might have the fleeting thought to invite you all to my wedding."

dating bruce wayne in public meant that you were advised to keep your answers as vague as possible when you were approached by paparazzis. there were few times where you could escape, but they came in massive groups, bombarding you, and the security team that bruce had hired to protect you, with questions that would guarantee the tabloids massive engagement, but you wouldn't falter.

"ah... yes—he's doing very well, thank you." "oh? my coat? bruce gifted it to me on my birthday a few years ago!" "what do i like... uh, cooking! i make a mean burger—ask bruce yourself!"

and as the public began to know you more, through your timid answers, to the wary and tired smile that only emphasized the dark circles on your face, you were rather... charming? compared to bruce, they've quickly fallen in love with how personal you could be at times. where bruce was always stoic and formal in his answers, you stuttered and answered with a laugh, unexpectedly cracking a joke in between.

it didn't take much interaction before the public realized what made bruce fall in love with a man like you.

dating bruce wayne in public included you becoming quite of a celebrity yourself. alongside bruce's, your day was documented from the very minute you stepped onto a sidewalk and started your day. what was your order at the local coffee shop? what did you like having for lunch? your favorite movie? your favorite thing about bruce?

you were a hot commodity and everyone wanted a piece of you.

though, that never stopped your weekly dates with him. golfing, swimming, hiking, eating; you'd hear the clicks of photos being taken from the shadows, and it was bruce who always held you closer, by the shoulders or by the hand to remind you that you were safe with him.

"they'll get tired of us eventually.""hopefully..."

with him by your side, it wasn't so bad that the camera flashes never failed to blind you whenever you two shared a sweet kiss.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.brucewayne #bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x m!reader #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman x you #batman x male reader #batman x reader #x reader #x you #x male reader #m!reader #male reader #male reader insert #bruce wayne headcanons #headcanon #dc x male reader #dc x reader #dc comics fanfiction #dc imagine #dc fanfic #headcannons #✰ : nou.dc

[omgkatherine01]

Moonlight Beta: Chapter 1 - New Girl, New Werewolf

Series Masterlist

Prologue, Chapter 2

Pairing: Scott McCall x Fem!Liam Dunbar

Please comment, like and share

Stiles and Scott made their way to the lacrosse field for practice before tryouts, both too wrapped up in the supernatural world to notice the new players on the field.

"Now what the hell are we even doing here anyway?" Stiles asked, "We got like 117 million problems, and worrying about our status on the lacrosse team is not one of them!"

While Stiles was ranting to Scott, the teen alpha had his eyes fell on a lacrosse player. They were perfect at the goalie position, something that made him realize that they were gonna have to step up their game.

"It is now," Scott said, gesturing to the player.

Stiles watched, upset, "Who the hell is that?"

The player took off their helmet, showing that it was just so happened to be a freshman girl.

Garrett whistled and stepped closer, smiling, "Nice, Lia! You might just be our first ever freshman captain. And the first female captain. Finally a good change around here."

Lia smiled brightly, "Thanks. That's pretty much the plan," she said, fist bumping the other guy who threw balls toward her.

"Okay, maybe we should just practice a little bit," Stiles admitted, still gawking at the blue eyes girl with Scott.

--------

In the girls locker room, Lia was changing her clothes.

After she changed into her jeans and tank top, she texted her step father and told him what happened in practice.

She had been extremely proud of herself. She had not only kept her anger in check but managed to impress the team. After having to transfer after being kicked out of her old school, Lia was worried that she wouldn't be allowed on the team. Luckily, however, they seemed to not care.

She had a new start at a new school that her best friend Mason went to. She even had more friends like Garrett and Violet. In Lia's mind, things were starting to look up already.

I'm proud of you, kiddo. Keep it up!

Lia chuckled softly at her father's text, and placed her phone in her jeans pocket. As she put her shirt over her tank top, she heard two people enter the locker room, two boys she knew were juniors.

The team Captain Scott McCall, and Stiles Stilinski.

Lia raised an eyebrow at the two, "Uh, wrong room, boys."

"Hey, Lia," Stiles said, ignoring her comment, "You want to explain what that was out there?"

Lia looked at Stiles with a clear look of confusion, "What do you mean? And, can't you get into trouble with been here in the girls' locker room?" she asked, taking her hair out of the ponytail it was previously in.

"That little display," Stiles said, "Your little circus act."

"Circus act?" Lia asked in confusion, "Like the Britney Spears song?"

"I meant that you caught every shot," he said.

Lia frowned, "I was in goal."

"Yeah, but nothing, not a single shot got passed you," Stiles said. He wouldn't give up, no human could be that good, not a fifteen year old, anyway. Especially one who didn't look like she had much muscle.

"Yeah, I was the goalie," Lia pointed out, "You guys played this game before?"

Stiles grunted, gesturing his alpha-best friend to step in.

"You're a freshman, right?" Scott asked. Lia nodded in response, "Yeah."

"But you weren't here last semester," Stiles said. Lia shook her head, still confused. She shrugged and looked between them, "I transferred from Devenford Prep."

Scott heard the tiny skip in her heartbeat, frowning when he realized she lied, "You transferred?" Lia nodded, "Yeah," she said as Stiles and Scott exchanged a look.

Scott looked at her, "No, you got kicked out, didn't you?" Lia tensed at Scott's words, squeezing her hand into a fist, and she gave a small scoff.

"Alright, look," she said, "Kicked out, transferred--what do you guys care? You aren't even supposed to be in here! I came here to play lacrosse. This team could use a few good players, right?"

Stiles quickly shook his head, "No, no. We don't need any more good players."

Scott realized she wasn't a supernatural threat, smiling at the freshman, "Actually, we could sort of use a couple."

Lia looked at him and smiled more brightly at him. Stiles glared at Scott before turning his attention back towards Lia, taking back her and Scott's attention.

"Okay, how'd you get this good?" he asked, "Have you always been this good? Or did it suddenly happen just once overnight?" Lia frowned while Scott's eyes grew wide.

Stiles continued, "Have you ever been out in the middle of the woods during the night of a full--" Scott cut him off before he could continue. "Stiles."

The two boys stared at each other before Lia answered, "I learned from my stepdad, alright?" She looked over at Scott. "He made team captain when he was a sophomore. Like you. And I want to make team captain like the two of you... just, you know, more female."

Scott let out a chuckle, and he smiled. Lia smiled softly and then turned to Stiles, her soft smile turning to a smirk, "And yeah, I guess I'm just that good." She grabbed her backpack and left the room.

Stiles and Scott watched her leave. Stiles was annoyed while Scott smiled softly, "She wasn't lying that time."

--------

Coach walked into the boys' locker room with Lia. He called out to everyone, "Let me remind you it is an open try out today. All positions available. This is a rebuilding season people," he said in fake enthusiasm.

Lia leaned against one of the lockers with Garrett as Coach continued, "Jackson's gone, Lahey's gone, Greenberg the one guy I actually wanted gone, was held back... again," he said sadly at the end, "Get your asses on the field!"

Lia put on her pads, when Scott went up to Coach asking if he was still Captain. And he repeated what he said earlier, "All positions are open."

Lia glanced over as Scott walked away, looking a little worried. She felt bad for him, but it also meant she had a chance at being captain and she was excited to say the least.

After everyone got into the field, Coach blew his whistle as people crossed the finish line. Lia was first to finish, and then she heard Coach speaking to the rest who came after her, "Terrible! Horrifying! Pathetic! Unbelievably pathetic... Is that everyone?" he asked as Stiles walked past him, panting.

He was breathing heavily as he fell down, and Scott came to help him up. "She came in first," Stiles told Scott as they watched Lia doing push ups. "She isn't human. What is she? Like a Were-Cheetah? Does it even exist, is that a thing?"

"I think she's just that good," Scott said. Stiles and Scott weren't naturally strong just from sports. Scott has his werewolf strength and Stiles built a lot of strength as he battled monsters. But neither of them had been that strong before, not like the freshman.

Stiles panted, "I'm gonna puke, take me somewhere."

After everyone were done, Coach was going to have them throw shots.

Stiles was first he couldn't roll the ball into his net which made everyone laugh, Lia couldn't help but giggle a little. He throw it and it landed right in the goalies net.

Everyone laughed more, Lia was next.

She was smiled lightly at Stiles, as he walked past her. And Stiles puffed out his chest to her in a whatcha-gonna-do-bout-it kind of way.

Lia put the ball into her net and got ready to throw. Stiles said from the back of the line to Scott, "Maybe she is only good at goalie and is totally useless every where else."

Scott just nodded his head as Lia concentrated. She took the shot and it went into the goal. People cheered as Coach called in a cheer, "Yes!"

Lia smiled, spinning her lacrosse stick in her hands. Stiles glared, jealous, saying quietly, "Or maybe she's just perfect at everything. I hate this kid."

"You don't have to hate her," Scott said, defending the girl, "The team needs new players."

Stiles glanced at him as Lia and Garrett high-fived each other, "What about a new team Captain?"

Scott looked back at Stiles in shock; he was right, Lia could take his position as team Captain.

It was Scott's turn and he walked up and put the ball in his net. He threw it and it went too far right and hit the pole of the goal and bounced off.

The team laughed while Stiles bit his lip and Scott looked confused. "Nice McCall," Garret said sarcastically.

"Hey, Garrett... shut up," Stiles said as Garrett smiled.

Lia continued to throw good shots that went into the goal, while Scott threw them too far left or right or even to far up. Every time Lia sincerely said, "Better luck next time." She smiled nicely at him, but Scott ignored her, frustrated.

Scott walked to where Stiles was, throwing his gloves down frustrated. Stiles raised his arms in a what are you doing? kind of way. "Dude, what is going on with you?" Stiles asked Scott mad.

"I don't know I'm having a really off day," Scott said really disappointed in himself.

"Off day?" Stiles repeated, "You were dying out there. I feel actually pain watching you."

"I didn't see you making any shots," Scott replied.

"Yeah, that it because I am terrible, though, Scott," Stiles told him. "You... You are the Alpha."

"Not on the field," Scott told him. "I'm human on the field."

"Well, human you is kind of sucking at the moment," Stiles told him. "So do you think there is any way you could use just a little tiny wolf power?"

Scott sighed, shaking his head, "It's cheating."

"I know it is," Stiles told him, "I just hate seeing this little freshman girl come in and steal all your glory after you worked your tushie off. I hate it."

"She's not gonna steal all the glory," Scott said and Stiles scoffed, as everyone cheered as Lia got another goal.

"Yes!" Coach cheered as the team congratulated the girl. "Hot damn! Yeah!"

Scott's eyes turned red as he started to use his wolf powers. Coach blew his whistle and everyone gathered around him.

"McCall and Stilinski. Grab a long stick. You're covering the goal for two-on-ones. Let's go! Line it up!"

Scott and Stiles got ready in their spot. "We still don't know if she's a werewolf, too," Stiles said, "And if she is, she'd just be cheating. And we'd just be cheating the cheater."

"But she's not," Scott said, shaking his head as he looked at Lia while she talked to the guys around her, "I'd know. I'd be able to catch her scent or something."

"Maybe you need to get closer," Stiles said in hopes that the girl was a werewolf so he didn't feel so bad about himself.

"I think I'm about to get my chance," Scott said as Lia got in line and put her helmet on.

Scott and Stiles got ready.

Garrett stepped forward, getting the ball, running toward Stiles and Scott, spinning around to try to get past them. Scott hit his stick against the Garrett's, making him fall and drop the stick and ball.

Everyone clapped, and Coach cheered, "That's my boy!" He pointed at Stiles and Scott, "Those two are like sons to me!"

Scott and Stiles smiled at each other as the next person was about to come. Lia clapped the boy on the back giving him a little confidence.

The boy ran toward Stiles and Scott, and they ran toward him. They pushed him down, and everyone cheered.

Scott and Stiles bumped heads and Stiles shook his head at the pain he felt. Another guy went and got knocked down.

"That's how you do it!" Coach cheered. "That's how it's done!"

Lia was starting to get nervous a little, but she was going to use her smallness to her advantage.

As Scott and Stiles chest bumped and Stiles fell from the force. Scott went to help him up but he jumped up before he could make it to him.

Lia was up next, swinging the stick back and forth. Scott and Stiles looked at each other a little nervous. Lia got the ball as Coach blew his whistle, and they took off. But Lia dodged both of them and she swung the net around her and through.

The ball went in the goal and everyone cheered as Lia muttered, "Yes!"

"That was luck!" Everyone's eyes snapped over to the werecoyote in the bleachers. She stood up, clearly not understanding how it worked. "Oh no Malia, don't get involved" Stiles mumbled.

"Do-over!"

Lia's eyes grew wide, she barely got it last time, Coach wouldn't make her do it again would he?

Coach turned towards Malia, "Sweetheart, there are no do-overs. This is a practice." Coach was going to ignore her until she decided to gamble. "Ten bucks on Scott and Stiles." This made Coach interested, "I'll take that action. Hey! Get back in there, Lia!"

Apparently he would Lia thought as she went back to the front of the line. "You got this, Lia," Garrett said as he placed a hand on her shoulder before backing.

Lia nodded lightly and took a deep breathe nervous, as Scott and Stiles got ready.

Scott was angrier now and his wolf was out more. Coach blew the whistle and Scott growled as they started to run. Lia dodged Stiles but Scott was right there and he hit her harder than he had the others, flipping her over his shoulder.

Lia landed hard on her back and her feet. There was a loud snap and she gave out a loud cry of pain. Everyone said ohh and the whistle fell out of Coach's mouth. Scott and Stiles took off their helmets and looked at Lia in shock as she cried out when she tried to get up.

Scott instantly regretted for using his powers.

The team ran to her side as Scott watched in shock and remorse. Coach, knowing of her disorder, ran over. "Don't move! Don't touch her!"

Garrett quickly kneeled down next to Lia and helped her take off her helmet. Lia hissed in pain but quickly tried to cover it, "I'm okay, Coach. I'm good."

Scott heard her heart skip a beat, feeling even worse for what he had done. The two boys helped her up, wrapping their arms around her to help.

"I think we better get her to the nurse," Stiles said. Coach nodded, gesturing for them to leave, and Scott and Stiles helped Lia to walk.

--------

The nurse couldn't do anything about her injured leg, so they had to drive Lia to the hospital. The entire time Scott and Stiles tried to talk to her but she didn't respond.

The two boys helped Lia into the hospital, Stiles had the teen use him as a crutch when Scott went to check in.

Melissa McCall, Scott's Mom and a nurse at the hospital, showed up to see Scott checking in. "Uh, hi Mom," Scott greeted and Stiles waved with his free hand.

Melissa got Lia a wheelchair so she didn't have to walk, "Don't worry, Lia. We'll take good care of you." Melissa wheeled her off, leaving the boys behind.

Stiles turned to face Scott, absentmindedly playing with his keys, "I got to get going. I promised Malia I'd help her study."

Scott nodded, still feeling horribly guilty, "Sure. I want to check on her anyway."

Stiles noticed his expression, "Hey, I don't need to say that wasn't your fault, right?"

Scott shurgged lightly, "I don't know."

Stiles placed a hand on his shoulder, "Scott, if you had used any wolf power that kid wouldn't be limping, she'd be crawling, back to the other half of her body."

Scott continued to stare down the hallway, "If I hadn't been so worried about being Captain she wouldn't be hurt either."

"It's okay to want something for yourself once in a while," Stiles said, "Team Captain, Alpha werewolf. You're still only human." Scott turned and watched his best friend walk away.

He knew Stiles was trying to help but that was the thing, Scott wasn't a human anymore. He was a werewolf. Lia, she wasn't a werewolf. She was human.

--------

Lia's (step) father was extremely kind person to her and her mother, something she was always grateful for considering her biological father wasn't in her life.

Her father made sure she will get a room quickly and he was there to personally check on her leg.

Lia winced slightly when she felt pain, "It's broken, isn't it?" she asked softly in sadness.

Sam sighed softly, "It's definitely going to need an X-ray." Lia looked down sadly at her hands, "It's all my fault."

Her Dad looked at her sympathetically, "You want to tell me what happened?"

Scott was outside the room because he was coming to apologize, but slowed to a stop near the door and listened in with his werewolf hearing.

"I went up against two juniors, one was the team captain," she admitted, "I thought if I could just prove that I was just as good as them... that I might not feel like I don't belong."

"Remember what we always say, play smart not hard," Sam said.

Lia looked up at him sadly, "Are you mad at me?" The sadness and fear in the girl's voice made Scott feel even worse.

Sam shook his head, "No. Of course not. Your Mom might be mad at me for getting you into Lacrosse, but maybe we can wait for the x-ray before we panic."

Lia looked at him in panic, "We can't tell her, Dad. She never liked me playing Lacrosse, she said it's not for girls. If she finds out about this, she will make me quit." She looked at her leg sadly, "On second thought if it's broken, I won't be able to play anyways will I?"

"Trust me I have more of a reason to panic then you," her father said, trying to light her mood up. "It's not over yet. Wait for the x-ray."

Lia nodded slightly and Sam kissed the top of her head before walking out of the room.

Scott turned and lowered his head as Sam walked out of the room and past him. Scott let out a sigh and shook his head, disappointed with himself.

Scott took a deep breath before he turned and he walked to the door. He stepped into the room as he knocked on the door softly, making the girl look up to him in surprise.

"Hey," he said softly, "I, uh... I wanted to apologize for what happened back then."

"Thanks," she muttered and smiled a small sad smile, "Not a good impression back there huh?" Scott looked startled a little but quickly shook his head, "No. No, no, you definitely impressed me and everyone else on the field, that--that's for sure. I was the one who got over reacting."

"Nice hits, by the way," Lia said softly. "Thanks," he muttered as he walked closer, "Uh, look, I--"

"Don't worry about it, Scott," Lia said with a shake of her head, "Thanks for been here, I'll be okay."

Scott nodded his head lightly as he glanced at her ankle. "Is it still hurts?"

Lia shook her head, "No. It doesn't." Scott listened to her heart and knew she was lying so he wouldn't worry. He hesitated for a second before gently placing his hand on hers as he asked about Sam, "Hey, uh, that Doc that came out--" Lia glanced at his hand on hers in surprise before quickly looking at his face, "I couldn't help but listen in a bit, was that your--"

"That's my step father, yeah," Lia answered. As Scott distracted her, black veins trailed into his hand, signaling that Lia was in pain because of her ankle.

Scott took a deep breath and nodded before gently letting go of her hand. He sat down next to her bed on the chair.

Lia looked at her ankle with a frown, moving it slightly. "Huh," she said out loud, it doesn't hurt anymore, she thought in surprise.

"What it is?" Scott asked, acting confused. Lia looked at him and shook her head, smiling softly, "Nothing," she said softly, and he couldn't help but smile softly back.

Scott didn't knew why, but he felt the need to protect her for some reason. He never felt the urge so strong like that before, not even with Allison.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and saw it was Lydia. He looked at Lia, "Hey, uh, I got to answer this, but then I will come back, want something to drink? Eat?"

Lia smiled softly and shook her head, "No, thank you."

Scott nodded and stood up. He glanced at the girl with a small smile as he answered the phone as he walked out, "Hey, Lydia."

Lia looked to the door even after Scott left and smiled lightly.

--------

Lia was waiting in her room alone when she heard some loud and scary noises. She frowned and slowly got out of her bed. As she limped out of the room, she noticed the hallways were suspiciously empty. "Anyone hear that?" she asked.

As she looked around, she saw a young man covered in blood walking towards her maliciously, and she gasped in shock as she backed away.

Scott heard screams and followed it up to the hospital's roof, his face was formed to his werewolf side, and his eyes were glowing red. "Get back!" the Wendigo yelled at Scott, holding Lia hostage on the edge.

"You don't need to do this," Scott said as Lia managed to look over at him, "Whatever it is, whatever you are, we can help you."

"No, you can't!" the Wendigo said.

Scott's eyes stayed on Lia for a moment, beyond scared that Sean would end up killing her. "Let me help you."

"Wendigos don't need help. We need food."

He turned Lia around and about to bite her. Lia scream and Scott jumped up toward them. Scott roared as the Wendigo pushes the girl off the edge. She screamed but at the last moment her fingers caught on to the ledge.

Scott pushes the wendigo away and he grabbed her arm. But the wendigo grabbed Scott's arms and pull them behind his back. Lia looked from under her to up to Scott, scared, "Scott! I can't hold on!"

She started to slip, and Scott roared before he bite her arm, piercing the skin drawing blood. He bit down hard and she screamed in pain.

Suddenly they heard a loud slice, and a gasp, and Sean released Scott, falling back dead.

Scott let go of Lia's arm with his teeth and quickly grabbed her arms with his hands. Scott set Lia aside and looked to Sean's body before to the door.

Lia's gasping and groaning in pain brought his attention back to her. She was holding her now bleeding, bit arm, and she looked up at Scott in confusion and shock.

Scott stared at her, slowly shifting back to his normal face, and he let out a shaky breath.

He bit her.

She was now his Beta.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #tyler posey #danielle campbell #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall icons #scott mccall fic #scott mccall smut #scott mccall x oc

[protege-not-protagonist]

Criminal Minds: The Protégé Chapter 10

Ch 10: The Mountain King- Pt. 3 or alt title: Trivia Night

Blurb: While the team works on the case in the Appalachian Mountains establishing theories and defining a profile, Spencer throws himself into working the victimology of this new Unsub killer. But it is not enough to distract him from the emptiness he feels in his life, especially after his mother's recent episode. rather than stay at home and face a night of quiet reflection, Spencer reluctantly decides to attend trivia night... who knew it would be the first and last time he would be hesitant to go.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Audience: 16+ mature audience for depictions of violence and sexual references

Author's Note: if you see a trigger warning that concerns you, you can scroll to end and I'll have a brief description what happens. And how to read around it. TW: violence, crime scene depiction, This case mentions sexual assault, kidnapping, decapitation, Necrophilia, slight body horror (as previous chapter)

Spencer's Appartment, Arlington, VA, 7:50PM

Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose and inhaled. Done. He had gone through them. All 562 profiles of the unsubs. He just focused on their status in the past 5 years, since that was when Grace had noticed the upward trend. Of those, 32 had died in that period. A few had died of old age, been executed, or died in prison fights. But disturbingly, 19 of those deaths had suicide by overdose or heart complications listed as cause of death in the last.

And even more concerning was that there was a starkly clear victimology. All were unsubs that had been killing and caught when they were adolescents or very early twenties. All had antisocial personality disorder, or Dissociative Identity Disorder, or both. All were having medical treatment administered to them in either psychiatric facilities or prisons. And, they were all people who shouldn't have died in care, all under 30 and not profiled as self destructive.

Spencer wished it was hard to believe that someone could've gotten away with it for that long. But he knew they weren’t exactly people that would be missed. People would think that no one would care or even that they deserved it, and that is why this killer had been so successful. It was why 19 had died before one person had thought twice about a 20th. One random FBI agent who answered a phone call meant for him.

Now they had a base number of victims, they needed to further narrow down the remaining living unsubs with the victim profile. It would help them figure out who was likely to be next. They also had to correlate employee records with the facilities these unsubs, well actually, victims, had died in. If there was a common person, they had to be the killer.

He shuffled the papers back into the neat stacks on his coffee table. Squinting around at the rest of his room, reached for a floor lamp's switch; it was starting to get hard to see. He stood up from his armchair and felt his legs protest. The light level in the room told him it was a later than he thought it was. How long had he been working on this? He looked out his window at the park outside. It only had a few joggers and dog walkers trailing around the pathways.

Spencer enjoyed the new view and the convenience of the location. He had been in his new apartment for 1 year, 8 months, and four days. But it still wasn’t the same. He missed his old home.

He had left it out of necessity, is what he told himself. It was practical. Now he was home a lot more, he needed the spare room as an office space. He also originally needed the two-bedroom apartment if his mother wanted to stay with him on day releases. Not that she could now.

But no matter how he reasoned it away, it didn’t change the fact that the real reason he moved was because he didn't like the fact that Cat Adams knew where he lived. It was the fact that she and had used his apartment and neighbours in her plans twice now. Max had pointed that out to him. And once she had; he hadn't felt safe there anymore.

Spencer never used to worry for his safety, if anything, his job proved that there was no point in worrying; if someone was determined enough, nothing could stop them. But with her it was different. For the first time, he could not shut the worry out. His home had felt... tainted.

It was a shame. He had spent longer in that apartment than anywhere else in his life. But perhaps the change was good. He was leaving that life behind; a new environment would help him separate himself from his past.

Much to his disappointment though, the walls here were still white. He hadn't got permission to paint them yet. Spencer appreciated that in design theory, the lighter coloured walls help reflect light and make the place feel spacious and airy. But other than a vitamin D boost, for him, there were no more benefits. He needed the comfort of a dark, cosy place to retreat to at the end of long days. Surveying space he nodded with contentment. He had done his best to dampen the impersonal-ness of the ‘clean chic’ aesthetic. His bookshelves lined the walls of the living space. Framed yellowed schematics and watercolour botanical prints cluttered the walls. His dark wooden furniture added the illusion of a comfortable age. Dark curtains and earthy tone rugs tied it all together. It was impressive how similar it was to the old the place.

But now there was the spare room. The room with a plainly dressed bed and his spotless work desk. The empty room.

He would have brought his own house if he had someone to share it with. But that hadn’t worked out and the more empty rooms he had in his life, the more lonely he supposed it would feel. Max was great, but when they finally had that third date, and then a fourth, and then a 15th, they both found that they were great, but just as friends.

Opposites did attract, but ultimately there was just too much difference between their worldviews. He had baggage. A lot of it. And it was not that she didn’t care. No, it was the opposite; she cared a lot, but she was too confrontational. She saw his baggage, and she wanted it gone; she wanted to free him from it. Max saw it as if all of that trauma really was just bags and suitcases that she could toss away from him like a commercial airline baggage handler, if she tried hard enough. But she didn’t understand that some things can’t be fixed. Some things can’t be undone. Some things, in the end, you just had to live with and learn to live around.

He also felt that they wanted different things out of life. Max wanted to live a life filled with excitement. She was eager to explore the world, but Spencer craved stability. He had had enough adventure. He wanted to settle down, take life slowly, and savour it. And so that was how it ended. They followed their respective paths. Max found herself in bustling New York, working at the MET. Meanwhile, Spencer settled into a cozy apartment, its walls filled with books and the gentle hum of a fish tank, finding solace in teaching. Or, he was trying to.

Spencer padded across the room and flicked the light switch on, and stared back at the pile of papers on the coffee table. He couldn’t do much more work without Agent Matthews or Garcia now. He needed something to do. Staying here looking at the spare room was only reminding him that there were people missing from his life. He needed to get out. Staying in and reading was nice. But lonely. And he didn’t want to feel alone tonight. Not after the weekend, he just had.

He checked his watch; 7:52pm.

If he left now, he could still make it to the trivia night his colleagues had openly invited him to months ago. He didn't usually like bars, or competitions, or beer. But they had tried multiple times to convince him he would enjoy himself. The concerned smile that Grace had given him earlier that morning flicked to his mind. He recalled her subtle encouragement to try a new experiences; new people and new hobbies. Was trivia a hobby?

Surprisingly, he felt himself move towards his keys, as if his subconscious was urging him to go. If there were empty rooms in his life, he supposed they would stay empty unless he took the initiative to meet new people and tried new things. He grabbed his wallet and phone and walked to the door while he still had the courage. He turned the doorknob and stepped out into the hallway, pulling up the navigation app on his phone. Trivia. He was going to trivia night, a social event, and he was going to meet people. And if the past week was any indicator; meeting new people wasn’t too bad.

Central Police Station, Harrisburg, PA, 7:00 PM

Rossi walked down the halls to of the police station with Dective Garner following close behind the meeting room. Simmons was pinning up the map on the case board. Luke was scribing down points on the whiteboard as Tara told him what they had learned from their interviews. JJ was in the corner examining the sheets the victims were wrapped in from the boxes of evidence. Grace was missing. He looked down at his watch. She was late for the debriefing. He sighed, but knew she would be in soon; she would be late cause she had found something.

‘Well, what have we got, cause victimology is not really giving us anything other than young, female and in the forest? Not too picky as far as I can tell. We’re going to have focus more on the Unsub. What did the scene tell us?’ Rossi asked.

Simmons shook his head, ‘Well he is knowledgeable of local area, looking at these sites this active zone where the bodies are being dumped placed is 1.38 square kilometres, that’s not even a square mile but the comfort zone, is a lot bigger, here-‘ he drew a circle around the three points.’-As Detective Garner and Ranger Debraun noted this active zone was not accounting for the terrain. If we adjust to account for the mountain right in the middle of the whole thing, the active zone is more like 13 square miles. If he had to walk there using the trails from access points near roads while carrying a body… it’s just unlikely.

‘So there’s two possibilities, theory one, is that he lives somewhere in this comfort zone and uses a shallow boat to travel the waterways after killing them. Theory two, he lives in the forest, and has multiple secluded areas to hold and kill victims and then dumps them in sites closest to the area he killed and held them in.’

Tara stepped up to the map and added a point to the board. ‘Our interview found that Hope was abducted from the surrounding forest on this road. Now that we know for sure the stretch of trail that Hope was abducted from and the disposal site, we can narrow down that range that this hideout might be in.’

Rossi nodded. ‘Good, good, tomorrow morning we can get out there with some of your men, Garner, and search the abduction site.’

‘Absolutely,’ the detective nodded.

Rossi paused and furrowed his brow. ‘Detective Garner, does the phrase “your friend trips under the hill” mean anything to you?’

The detective frowned. ‘No, sorry, should it?’

‘When we interviewed Jenny, she said sometimes in the days after the abduction she heard a man call her name and sometimes she would hear that phrase.’ Tara explained.

‘The Unsub returned to taunt her?’ Luke questioned.

Rossi shook his head stoically. ‘No, we believe he was trying to lure her too.’

‘She didn’t tell us that,’ the detective frowned.

‘She thought she was imagining it,’ Tara explained. ‘She thought people would think she was crazy.

‘Are we sure that it was the unsub?’ JJ asked Tara. ‘I don’t know who would even speak like that. It sounds… theatrical.’

‘I’m convinced it wasn’t a hallucination that she heard. She would still be experiencing them if they weren’t real, conditions that cause those symptoms are long term and don’t go away without treatment.’ Dr Lewis explained.

‘I’ve got Garcia researching that phrase as we speak. Hopefully, we can find what it’s referencing.’ Rossi nodded and moved on. ‘What about the morgue JJ? Where’s Grace?’

JJ let out a little huff and shook her head, still unable to believe how the interaction had gone. ‘Oh boy, the morgue was something. Grace got in a verbal sparring match with the M.E. It was like watching a high school debate club, but there were no real arguments, just intellectual snark. I had to break it up, but Grace is still there. She’s hovering over the M.E. while they do a dissection.’

‘Grace, verbally sparring?’ Dr Lewis frowned.

JJ shrugged, ‘I don’t know. Something got into her. M.E. made a comment about how she does that talking thing… And she went straight for the metaphorical jugular. Anyway, I got a lot of information I wish I could erase from my brain.’ she paced across the room to the board and wrote, “Necrophiliac” on the board.

‘Oh, gross.’ Luke groaned.

‘So this guy, still waiting on DNA to confirm it’s the same one, seems to keep the victims for three to five days before killing them and then keeps them for one to three days after death and that’s when the sexual assault occurs. Then he washes and wraps the victims before disposing of them. As far as we can tell, only superficial wounds from scuffles are sustained while they are alive. But the newest victims, Grace believes, show a deviation. She seems to think they were killed before decapitation and then drained of their blood. And this is where things get weird.’

‘You mean it wasn’t already weird? Simmons asked.

JJ grimaced before continuing. ‘One of the new victims had a needle mark from where the Unsub externally filled their bladder-‘

‘-What?’ Rossi asked out loud. The room was filled with confused and disgusted faces.

‘Jesus.’ Detective Garner shook his head. ‘Who even does this?’

‘Well, I’m not sure about the whole bladder thing, but I know that there is some familiar behaviour,’ JJ also wrote: Remorse? ‘I’ve been looking at the evidence here in the meantime. The sheets, the way he wraps up the victims, it’s like a shroud, it’s not just spread over the body, it’s properly done. The way he wraps up the victims and places them somewhere scenic, at the creek. That’s an indication of remorse, it’s shows an amount of care, an amount of shame. It’s a burial ritual.’

‘Yeah, as much as care someone who chops of heads and desecrates bodies can have.’ Detective Garner scoffed.

There was a short tap on the door. Grace's smiling face met them as she opened the door. ‘Did I hear someone say burial ritual?’

Stern faces met her and Rossi raised an eyebrow. Her face dropped a little, assuming a more neutral expression. ‘Right, well sorry I’m late, but I have some great news, some perplexing news and some details for Garcia to look up for our victim IDs when the briefing’s over.’

‘Start with the great news.’ Rossi waved her in.

She nodded and skittered over to the map. ‘I know where the victims are most likely being held and killed.’ She held out her hand for JJ to pass her the marker. ‘So, I called around to see if we could get our lab results flagged as a priority, and well, mainly DNA, to confirm it’s the same guy. Toxicology is still slow, entomology also not finished and the sample we took from the bladder has only just been sent-’

He held up his hand gently stopping her. ‘Grace… What do we have?’ Rossi prompted.

‘Oh um, particulates from the fingernails. The samples were tested before, but only for the DNA of the attacker. I asked a friend of mine back on the second floor to look at the preliminary mass spec, but for grit. He found pure Anthracite Coal in all victims’ samples.’ She grinned widely, clearly proud of herself as she used the marker to draw some dotted lines on the map.

Rossi watched her with interest. He had talked to her about convoluted answers. To Grace’s credit, she had gotten better in the past few months. He knew if she was drawing; she was taking time to gather an explanation with a visual aid. But he supposed he knew of her diagnosis, so he understood. The rest of the team had not quite figured it out yet.

‘So, they were killed in a forge or factory or what… what is Anthracite Coal mean? Are there different types of coal?’ JJ asked.

Grace turned to answer, but surprisingly, Detective Garner cleared his throat.

‘Ya girl here is saying the victims were killed in a Pennsylvanian coal mine. Anthracite is the highest grade coal there is, highest carbon content, rare as well. In America, it is only found in this state.’ The team looked at him with puzzled looks. ‘What? I thought everyone knew that? Anyway There is a problem though, it doesn’t fit the geoprofile. All the mines are further North East of here, quite a ways actually.’

‘Yes exactly, but those are currently operating mines,’ Grace enthused. ‘I suspect this one is old and abandoned. I’m not an expert geologist, but as an archaeologist, I know a thing or two about stratigraphy. The Appalachian mountains, although separated by rivers and valleys nowadays, were once a continuous range before the ice age. Because of this we can look at known deposit on the other side of the river in Dauphin county and assume the layer that was compressed into coal was one deposit before the river separated it-‘ she drew a dotted line over the river and along the mountain and straight through the unsubs active zone. ‘-Theoretically, the coal that ended up in our victims’ fingernails should be at the same elevation as the Dauphin county mine. Which places the abandoned mine on this ridge and within the unsubs’ active zone.’

Detective Garner paused briefly before stating, ‘Considering Jenny's testimony, we can place the abduction right on the outskirts of the active zone. But we found her on the other side of the mountain, which disproves the theory of his lair being in that zone. You cannot abduct someone without a vehicle and drag them either fighting or unconscious up a mountain for two miles. Hold them captive in a mine for five days. Then carry their body three miles down the other side of the mountain. It’s not physically possible. The bodies would suffer more damage from being dragged and manhandled.’

Grace nodded. ‘You are right, detective, I would normally agree. The average distance someone can carry a body is 300 meters or a hundred yards. And if we think he is probably using the river to transport the bodies away from his lair, the place he kills them must be closer than 300 meters from where he keeps a boat. As you said, it looks impossible since the river is on the other side of the mountain. But it is actually possible if the unsub isn’t going over the mountain at all.’

‘There has to be a tunnel under the mountain.’ Rossi realised. It was the only thing that made sense.

‘Exactly, modern mines in the area are open cut, but prior to the 60’s mines were underground. And if this mine is old enough to be forgotten about. It’s got to be Civil War era or before. I also read that this area has a lot of history with the Underground Railroad, which I know was not actually an underground railroad, but it involved a lot of secret passages through the mountains, and also the logging industry sometime would help smuggle people out on rafts through the river systems. Sometimes loggers would create tunnels that would lead to riverside log stations so that logs didn’t have to be dragged over the hill. Point is, this unsub lives in those mountains, and probably has his whole life, his family probably also has deep roots here. Both mining and logging are the old back bone industries here.’

‘How long did you spend reading?’ Dr Lewis asked.

‘Just the plane ride here…’ She shrugged.

Rossi raised an eyebrow. He noticed her busy with something on the plane and had wondered what it could be. She had seemed so focused on it. Obviously, whatever it was, had been helpful.

Simmons nodded and thought for a moment. ‘Is there a possibility that there’s a map of these tunnel systems or survey of the mineshafts?’

Garner shook his head. ‘Not that I know of. Anything old like that, there’s a chance it doesn’t exist anymore. Records like that just aren’t kept. The police records here only go back as far as the 50s. We’ve had a few disaster level floods in the Susquehanna area way back. If something like that existed, I’m not sure if it would have survived.’

‘Survivorship Bias.’ Grace murmured in thought.

‘Do you mean natural selection?’ Rossi asked, prompting her to speak up.

‘Uh no, Survivorship Bias is the likelihood of material culture surviving based on preference. Basically, the more important, impressive, and popular something is, the more likely it is to be preserved over mundane things. If a map did exist and has survived, it will be because someone thought it was worth preserving. If we want to find a map we need to think of who might’ve thought that the map was important enough to preserve?’

There was a moment of silence as they thought collectively.

Simmons lit up. ‘It could be in Union Army military intelligence documents. Do you have a civil war historical society here in Harrisberg, detective?’

‘Yeah, one of the sarges is in it. I’ll go get him to phone them make inquiries.’ Garner nodded and left the room.

‘That could take a while. Do we have anything more to add to the profile than local-necrophile-head-hunter-mountain-man at the moment?’ Rossi asked.

‘I’m sorry to ask, but what’s with the bladder? We see wacky cranked up to 11 every day here, but this is just next level.’ Dr Lewis asked.

‘It a first for me,’ JJ folded her arms. Simmons and Luke nodded in agreement. The team all looked at him.

‘Hey, I may be old, but this is new for me too.’ Rossi held his hand up. ‘How did the dissection go, Grace?’

‘I’m not sure yet, still waiting for tox screens. But this is the perplexing news I had. The dissection confirmed that victim Four’s bladder had been filled externally and drained, naturally. Whatever it was filled with caused hemorrhaging, but there were no caustic burns or lacerations. So at least it wasn’t acid, which I have seen before, but not in the bladder, it was-’ the room collectively winced and Grace stopped her sentence. ‘-awful. But whatever it was caused the victim to bleed a lot. They, uh-would have urinated blood. The level of medical sophistication required for it doesn’t really agree with the ‘feral’ mountain man profile, but DNA confirms it’s the same guy. And it’s too bizarre to be unrelated.’

Rossi frowned, unsure what to make of that information. ‘Well, bizarre and unknown, we will handle with care once we get those tox screens. For now, we focused on we know: The way he’s wrapped the bodies and isolates the victims, holds them for days, speaks to some kind of fantasy. What kind of fantasy?’

‘This guy almost seems like a Power Rapist to me, but it’s warped to where instead of losing confidence when a victim rejects him, he takes the resistance out of the equation by killing them. Then afterward he is ashamed or has some expression of grief in the way he disposes of them.’ Luke observed.

Rossi nodded in agreement. ‘That’s good, I think you’re right, but then there’s the decapitation, which is not typically a remorseful thing to do to a body.’

Tara looked up at him with a pensive expression. ‘Usually I would agree, but I think what we are seeing here is an expression of frustration that he cannot socialise with these women. During the pandemic, the cases of overkill, particularly beheadings rose. We’ve found theres is a clear link between isolation and this kind of dismemberment.’ Dr Lewis put forward. ‘Everything we’ve seen so far suggest he is a very socially inept individual. Perhaps it’s not so much the heads, but the faces he can’t look at while he commits the sexual acts after. I personally believe we are dealing with a young individual severely isolated, very agitated, and experimenting with his desires on victims his own age.’

‘No social skills, like being a feral mountain man.’ JJ pointed out.

‘Do feral people have clean linen though?’ Simmons asked. Pointing to the evidence box JJ had been going through.

‘You’re just going to gloss over the fact that you’re actually entertaining the idea that they exist?’ Luke raised an eyebrow.

‘Well, although a lot of folks from Appalachia think it’s pretty offensive and stereotypical to suggest there are wild people living in the mountains, the legends persist, which suggests there is some element of truth. Of course, I'm not talking about insane myths like cannibal cults and skinwalkers, but there could be some eccentric hermits out there. This team has come across, like, two, no wait, three unsubs that some might call feral people. So I thought it was a fact that feral people exist,’ Grace added. Then frowned, walking over to the evidence table. ‘But Simmons is right. Feral people don’t have white clean linen, usually.’

‘Well, not all the sheets are white, this was victim one’, unlike that others its old and discoloured there’s also a label on it this. It looks like a nordic language.’ JJ pointed to the evidence she had unboxed earlier that evening.

‘IKEA? So like stock standard and untraceable.’ Luke guessed.

Grace peered at the label. ‘No, these aren’t from IKEA, if they were, they’d actually be more traceable. IKEA is not as generic as you’d think. There are only 51 IKEA stores in the country, only three in the state. Fun fact, the franchise is headquartered in right here in Pennsylvania. This is because of the high percentage of German heritage in the area, which is important because Germany highest consumer of their goods. Actually, the first IKEA in the US was opened in ‘85 in Plymouth, about two hours away from here.’ Grace said distractedly. The room went quiet, and Rossi couldn’t help but smile as Grace continued examining the sheets, oblivious to the fact that all eyes were on her. ‘The font and condition of them say early 90’s at least. I don’t recognise this brand. But JJ's right the text is definitely Nordic, maybe Danish?’

'How?' Simmons asked in bewilderment.

‘How what?’ Grace raised her head and realised the team was focused on her. She looked around nervously and glanced at Rossi, her face asking if she had zoned out.

‘That was the most numerical facts you’ve given about a topic off the top of your head, and about IKEA of all things? Why?’ JJ asked curiously.

Grace simply shrugged. ‘I just really like IKEA.’

JJ chuckled and then asked, ‘Ok, Grace, what’s the address of the police station here?’

‘Why would I need to remember that? It was in the case brief.’ Grace said with a frown.

With a little snort, JJ shook her head. ‘Case and point Grace.’

The Laureate bar, West End, Washington DC, 8:04PM

‘Dr Reid! You made it!’ the table of familiar faces called out to him, beckoning him over. He made his way through the tables in the function room at the back of the bar. He glanced at the leader board and saw their team name’s "You’re Going George-down" was fifth. But the first team "The No Bodies" was a head by a significant lead. The previous winners of other weeks were listed on a white board behind an older woman who paced with a hand-held microphone. The No Bodies didn’t win every week previously, but they certainly had a few.

‘Sit here.’ Dr Brandwrith, The Creative Writing Professor, pulled out a chair next to him. ‘We’ve finished round one, which was ornithology. We’re about to start round two, the topic is 15th century literature, and we’re being slaughtered. The Le Morte d'Arthur, is about all I’m familiar with.’

‘God look at them, they know they’re winning, look you can see the smugness in their eyes.’ Dr Martin, the head of the modern history department, cried, eyeing the table of five in the corner. A little white board place marker showed they were The No Bodies. They didn’t look to be gloating or intimidating. ‘It had to be one of their topics. I can not lose to an Egyptologist again!’ Dr Martin lamented and took a long swig of his drink.

Spencer scrutinised their opponents. The No Bodies was comprised three men and two women. Two of the men appeared to be in a deep discussion, dressed in simple button ups, one with a tie. The other man was significantly younger, probably early twenties in a collared tee and khakis, hand intertwined with a young woman at the table, but he completely focused on the baseball game playing on the screen behind them. The young woman was chatting animatedly with the other woman, who sat with her back to Spencer. All he could see from here was that her hair was red, and she had a green flannel jacket slung over the back of her chair.

He surveyed the other tables. Despite the tie wearing man, The No Bodies were the most casually dressed people in the room. Surprisingly, he recognised a lot of faces. Many were academics from various institutions. He even spotted a prominent judge at a table with people dressed in smart suits.

‘Well, luckily I happen to be pretty knowledgeable on the topic, I grew up reading it,’ Spencer told his colleagues trying to keep the wistfulness off his face as memories of his mother reading to him surfaced. ‘But 15th century literature is not a topic I would have thought would come up in bar trivia.’

‘That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you. This isn’t just any trivia, Dr Reid. This is Triv-atholon. The bar owner was an Ac-decathlon champion in highschool, he missed the fact that there were no competitions or social events like mathleetes and acdec for adults. So he made these trivia nights to be hard for people who wanted to be challenged.’

‘I never did decathlon in school, or trivia. How does it work?’

Dr Nguyen, the political sciences professor, leaned across the table.

‘Well, we are mid season now. There’s 20 games per season, one game a week. A team has to be signed on from the start of the season to enter the tournament, you can have up to six members per game, but you need at least four to compete in a game other wise you forfeit that week, team members also don’t have to be consistent, they can be anyone as long as they don’t play on another team.

'At the start of the season, each team submits their team name and four topics of expertise. Then each week there’s a game with three rounds, each round is 10 questions from the one of the submitted topics. One point for every right answer. And at the end of the game, the top three teams get leader board points and at the end of the season, the team with the most points wins the tournament.’

‘What do you win?’

‘Well, firstly, bragging rights. Secondly, they get personalised jackets, their team name on the trophy and $200 gift voucher. But most importantly, they get free drinks at the close of season party.’

A bell dinged repeatedly, and a hush descended up on everyone in the room.

‘Okay folks, question one, round two, here we go, the chivalric romance Tirant lo Blanch was finished and published in 1490 by Marti Joan de Galba, but who originally authored the text?’

‘Ugh that’s the Tyrant in White, I know it actually was a knight. But the name escapes me.’ Dr Brandwrith said.

‘Joanot Martorell.’ Spencer whispered.

‘How do you spell that? Write that down don’t let them see it.’ Dr Nguyen shoved a pen and paper towards him.

_________________

‘And the score after the second round, still in the lead with 17 points, are The No Bodies. In second place, real dark horses now, You’re Going George-Down with 15 points and in third we have the Matter Babes with 14 Points-‘

‘We got a secret weapon now. You’re going down this time Smithies!’ Dr Martin, a few drinks in, jeered at The No Bodies.

‘Did you not hear the score?’ one of the older men smiled. Spencer noticed he had an eye of Horace’s tie pin. He must have been the Egyptologists.

‘Well, it’s not really a secret once you announce it.’ The red-haired woman turned around in her chair.

Spencer blinked. She looked to be around his age, with freckled pale skin, wire-rim glasses perched on her round face framing her smiling eyes. His brain catalogued a lot of things when he saw her, but the immediate thing he noticed was that she was pretty, very pretty. He would go as far to say she was beautiful, but Spencer reserved that term for after he had observed their nature. She slid the glasses off, laying them on the table, and scanned him from head to toe with an inquisitive look on her face.

‘You didn't bring your pet encyclopedia this week? If she's coming, you might actually stand a chance,’ Dr Nguyen called back.

‘My grad student couldn't come, but I wouldn't count your chickens yet, Nguyen. Seven points down and we still have a few tricks up our sleeves.’ She said. Spencer was left stunned by the confident and playful smirk she shot him before turning back to her table.

‘Okay folks let's start round three, the topic is; The History of Material Culture Generated by Popular American Spectator Sports.’ The hostess announced.

There was a collective murmur.

The younger woman at The No Bodies table nudged her partner, who was still engrossed in the game on the screen behind him.

‘It’s your sport round, babe.’ She smiled at him.

‘No, mine was about the history of sport merch.’ He sighed.

‘That’s what people like us call Material Culture babe,’ she whispered.

‘OH YES FINALLY!’ the young man’s fist pumped. He quickly retracted his fist with a murmured apology once he realised all eyes were on him.

‘For half a point each, in what year was the first baseball card ever produced and by whom?’ The hostess read the first question.

‘Oh my God, we’re screwed!’ Dr Martin slumped on the table.

‘We can make an educated guess.’ Spencer consoled. He thought hard about everything he had gathered from conversations with Derek and Rossi. ‘Well, the product was probably tobacco and baseball reached international popularity in the late 1800s, so let’s say 1870, and Camel cigarettes.’

_____________

It was incorrect; it was actually a sporting goods store, but the year was close, 1868. And that the closest his team got to answering any of the questions from the round. The No Bodies won the night, much to the dismay of his colleagues. After hearing the final scores, his team members shuffled towards the bar.

As he went to follow them, he tried to walk in between two tables at the same time as the Red-haired woman from the opposing team. Both accidentally blocking the path, they made awkward eye contact and apologised. They both stepped to the left and then to the right and laughed nervously at each other. Eventually, he stepped back and let her through in front of him.

‘Good game?’ He cleared his throat. ‘Not really sure if we say that in trivia.’

‘We can if you want.’ She smiled. ‘It was a good game.’ She held out her hand to shake.

‘I uh, I-’ he scrambled for words that were running from him the longer he looked at her.

‘Oh no, that's ok.’ She retracted her hand and offered him a smile. ‘I get it. I got a few friends who don’t like handshakes either.’

He didn’t know if it was audible but a sigh of relief left him. She understood? He followed her up to the bar and was getting ready to search for his teammates when she turned back to him.

‘So you’re Dr Reid, Right? I can see why they wanted you to come.’

‘I can see as well.’ He nodded. ‘And I can see why Dr Martin was particularly worried. The No Bodies are quite a formidable team.’

‘Well, you should remind Dr Martin’s that’s it just a game,’ she laughed. It was a wonderful, contagious laugh. And all Spencer wanted to do was hear it again. ‘We’ve just had a good start to the season and a few new minds. That’s all. The No Bodies are pretty harmless.’

Spencer saw an opportunity and opened his mouth before he had time to regret it. ‘Unless your name is Polyphemus.’

There was a tick of silence before she erupted in that beautiful room brightening laugh.

‘I love a good Greek Mythology reference. So does Jess-‘ she pointed at the other woman from her team who was currently passionately kissing her boyfriend. ‘-Oh they are really celebrating huh, sorry you had to see that. But want to know something funny? Jess is a Classic Historian, her boyfriend’s name is Troy.’ She grinned at him.

He chuckled now. ‘Nominative determinism, that is funny. So your team consist of an Egyptologist, a Classicist, a Sport enthusiast, yourself and… I heard you’re a member down? Your grad student? Should I be worried about them?’

‘Oh yeah!’ she nodded. ‘Luckily for the other teams here, she’s my part time grad student. She has a job that means she has to travel a lot. She’s really good at general knowledge and Vikings. Can I buy you a drink?’ She asked.

‘Oh uh, no,’ Spencer replied. ‘I don’t usually-‘

‘What about a soda? That's what I'm getting. I have to drive home,’ She suggested.

‘You don't have to buy me one,’ he hesitated. ‘Not that I have anything against you buy-‘

‘-I want to buy you a drink,’ she interrupted, ‘So we have an excuse to converse longer. Sorry if that’s forward…’ her sentence petered out.

'Oh?' She wanted to talk? To him? After a moment, Spencer finally agreed. ‘You know what, okay, I'll have a soda.’

She glanced back up at him with a smile and flagged down the bartender.

‘So, grad students, you must be a doctor too,’ he said, leaning forward on the bar with intrigue. ‘What kind of doctor?’ he asked.

‘I'm a doctor twice over. Archaeology and Anthropology, I've also studied anatomy, but I’m a forensic anthropologist,’ she replied. ‘And I haven’t lost you, which is a good sign, not going to have to explain that I am I?’

Spencer’s brow furrowed in genuine interest. ‘No, no, fascinating,’ he encouraged her.

‘So, what kind of doctor are you?’ she inquired.

Spencer lit up with excitements as he replied, 'Like you, I’m a doctor in a few fields. Chemistry, mathematics, engineering.’ Then he shrugged, before saying the thing that usually killed the conversation. ‘But actually, I’m a criminologist and used to be a criminal profiler,’ he explained.

Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Woah, I’ve got whiplash. Sorry, criminal profiler?’ she exclaimed, but he didn’t read any distaste. She was giving him her full attention. Fascinated, he realised. She was fascinated.

He smiled, ‘Well, I used to be. Now I teach at Georgetown and consult occasionally for, uh, law enforcement,’ he revealed.

‘That would be the FBI, right?’ She guessed excitedly.

He nodded, ‘How did you-’ he began.

‘Oh, I consult with them sometimes too. I work with a few people from there. But that’s work talk. I’m intrigued, because in my mind, mathematics, chemistry, and engineering don’t connect with crime,’ she pondered. ‘How did you end up there, Doctor Reid?’

Spencer leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. ‘I guess I just found my way there. Growing up, I found it hard to comprehend emotions and establish connections with people. I initially studied social sciences and psychology in order to develop a deeper understanding of myself and relate to others. But then I met a profiler and attended his guest lecture. Then I desired to comprehend what drives people to deviation. I found I was good at it, and my knowledge in other areas allowed me to think out of the box. Profiling is more effective when supported by a diverse skill set. And crime is as broad and challenging field of study there is. I’ll never be done learning. So that is where I’ve chosen to stay.’ He explained.

The bar tender deposited their drinks on the in front of them he looked it over before drawing toward him.

‘I am intrigued by your field of study, though. What made you choose forensics? It’s a highly specialised field of anthropology that few would specialise in. And archaeology, again, not much connection to crime on the surface.’ He looked at her expectantly.

‘Well, connections to things are everything in anthropology. Forensics was a way I could help the living. It’s a present history, you know? Examining 4000-year-old remains, it’s fascinating, tells us so much about where we come from, how people were and how we still are, but… what good does it really do? Whereas finding someone’s loved one and returning them home for proper burial? It’s tangible, it’s present and meaningful,’ she explained, passion infused in her words.

Spencer nodded along with interest. ‘Yeah, I felt the same with my job,’ he enthused.

As they continued their conversation, completely engrossed in each other’s stories, the noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background. He spoke passionately about his thesis, while she shared her experiences from various digs she had gone on. She told him about her students she had had through the years and how each one always fascinated her in just how unique their approach to things was. Likewise, he opened up about the different members of the BAU he had worked with, each bringing something unique to the team.

Time flew by as they spoke for over an hour, and he brought them another soda. He even broached the topic of his mother, telling her she was a professor of 15th century literature and how she was suffering from Alzheimers. Sympathetically, she related her own experience with her grandfather going through the same illness when she was younger. She revealed that she was also struggling with loss. Her father had recently passed away from cancer. Spencer expressed his condolences, and they shared memories and reminisced about favourite moments with people they loved. That is how they found they both enjoyed western films.

It was a surprising discovery, and a topic that seemed trivial, but it only deepened their conversation. She mentioned how she used to watch them with her father, and how she had been indulging in them lately to relive those nostalgic moments. He eagerly offered recommendations. She promised to watch them and then got enthusiastically lost in talking about the sociological themes that westerns often carried. Spencer watched her with a contented smile on his face as she asked him what he thought of the shift in themes with modern westerns. To her surprise, he admitted he hadn’t realised there were modern films that fell into that genre, leading to an engaging discussion and recommendations from her.

Time seemed lost in the enjoyment of each other’s company. Eventually he saw his teammates wave goodbye to him and support a worse for wear Dr. Martin out the door. She turned back to him and smiled.

‘Are you going to be coming regularly?’ she askedq.

Spencer paused for a moment, his mind racing. ‘I don’t know, I’m not usually into these sorts of occasions. But I’m trying to try new things,’ he admitted.

‘Well, I’m very glad you did. Did you have fun?’ she inquired, a playful smile on her lips.

‘Yeah, a lot of fun. Though I think the answer for question five round three was subjective,’ he chuckled.

‘I thought so too, but I won’t contest it, since we got it correct. Troy knows his stuff,’ she replied. ‘But I have no idea how we’ll handle next week. That was one of our submitted topics. We’ve had a pretty good run so far, but there’s still half of the season left to play. And now, I hear there is a pretty formidable opponent on the Georgetown team.’ She grinned at him.

‘Maybe, but he seems to have a weakness with questions involving sports. Are you here often?’ he asked curiously. Spencer leaned back, his gaze lingering on her.

‘Most games. I don’t go out much otherwise,’ she confessed.

‘Well, with the highest chance of seeing you being coming to trivia regularly, I suppose I will be a regular then,’ he replied.

The air felt charged with anticipation as they exchanged glances. Spencer stiffened, surprised at himself. His mind raced as he mentally berated himself. “Why did I say that? That was the corniest, stupidest thing I had ever said,” he thought and his face flushed.

‘I’d like that.’ She said with a hint of shyness in her voice.

Then, her phone rang, breaking whatever spell had been upon them. She wrenched it from her pocket, glared at the screen accusingly, then sighed.

‘I’m sorry I have to take this. It’s life or death, well probably death, considering my occupation.’

Spencer nodded. He hoped his bar stool would sink into the floor and take him with it.

‘Hey Avery, what can I do for you?’ she smiled into the phone. Her expression faltered. ‘Oh? Yes, that is unusual. Are you sure? I see. No, no, that’s fine. I can come over. Where was the scene?’

She grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of of her bag and scribbled something down, probably the address. ‘Uh-ha, and in what state of skeletonization are the bodies? Yeah? Better swing by home and get my coveralls on my way over. Okay, yes, see you there.’

She got up and Spencer frowned a little. His chest ached just the slightest. He had enjoyed the past couple of hours. Guess maybe he had enjoyed it more than-

‘If you’re not freaked out by that-‘ She slid the napkin across the counter to him. ‘Call me sometime. I hope to see you here again, Dr Reid. It’ll be nice for our team to have to a challenge.’ She smiled at him and left.

He was too stunned to pick the napkin up right away. Her Number? He thought she had written the address of the crime-scene.

He reached out gingerly, grabbed the paper, and turned it over, but one half of it stuck to the bar.

‘No.’ He whispered to himself as he pulled the napkin out of the small puddle of condensation left by a glass and cradled it in his hand.

Spencer was gutted as he examined the napkin. Only half her number was still visible, and the word above it had bled into inky stains. The word above would have been her name he realised. It was also then it dawned on him that she had never shared it with him.

He turned in his seat to see if he could catch her, but she was gone.

He heaved a deflated sigh and stared back at the napkin. He could try an algorithm to guess her name and apply a few forensic techniques to revive the precious symbols he had lost. And he would. He would try his best to recover them. But there was only one way to ensure he saw her again; he had to come to trivia night next week. And he would be there no matter what; that was a certain, sure and immutable fact.

------------

Next Chapter

Taglist: @bridgeoverstrawberryfields

Sorry this took so long. Hopefully, you liked it. What did you think of Spencer's love interest? Who is she? (for once, the reader probably knows more than Spencer)

If you love this story or even just like it, leave a comment, like, reblog, ask a question with Character Mail, will be posting some prompt for this soon so keep your eyes peeled. Any interaction is much appreciated and it really motivates me. Love you guys.

if you want to be added to taglist please comment on this post.

TWs:

Sexual assault, Necrophilia : I will try not to be graphic at all in this story, this chapter just has it mentioned as part of what the unsub does

Slight body horror : I will try not to be graphic here, but in autopsy it is found that unsub fills Bladders externally with a injection. then found that it injures the victim to a point where they bleed. Again not going to describe that more than I have too.

violence, crime scene depiction: cannon typical throughout this story

kidnapping: Unsub is implied to kidnap victims and hold them for a few days.

decapitation: this is part of the unsubs M.O.

#spencer reid #BAU #criminal minds #oc #luke alvez #mentor spencer #spencer gets a happy ending #the protege #OC Grace Matthews #fanfic #my fic #criminal minds case #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #the protege chapter 10 #ch 10

[jpt3391]

Seven Samurai 

I’ve heard of Seven Samurai before, but I haven’t had the chance to watch it myself. Now I understand what all the hype is about. It depicts a great epic of a ronin who attempts to protect the lives of farmers who are under attack by a bunch of mountain bandits. Set in the Sengoku period (around 1586), where samurai were still around and guns were a novelty at the time, it shows a lot of the adversity the people went through living at the time. On the surface, it seems like a fairly simple story with a conflict that is one dimensional, the titular seven samurai defending the town that they nobly volunteered to defend, but Kurosawa (along with his team) wanted to show much more than that to the viewers. 

It starts with a very stylistic introduction of the actors and writers that worked on it with a tilted script of their names, along with drums that set the scene. The movie then tells a quick backstory with a fade cut into the marching of the bandits that goes along with the beat of the drums. From the beginning, Kurosawa masterfully depicted the differences between the country people and the “city” folk as we were easily able to tell who was who. I also noticed a lot of close-up shots of the men, especially the old man when they were discussing what to do. I assumed that depicted his importance, but also the struggle that he understood would come to be. The old man had this happen to him before, so he knew what needed to happen for the village to survive. 

From those points, I was truly able to understand what the old man was talking about, as well as the ronin’s (Shimada) point of view, especially at the end. Shimada states, “In the end, we lost this battle too,” with a forlorn look on his face. “Victory” would have been achievable if they had not lost one of their comrades, but even if they had lost one person, they would have still lost, especially in the old ronin’s eyes. That point made in the movie made me really appreciate the underlying points in the movie. We think that the main conflict is between the bandits vs. the farmers and the samurai, but to me it was about the ronin finding a place to belong, personified the most by Kikuchiyo. The farmers had a place of belonging, but the ronin did not. Like I said earlier, Kikuchiyo especially impacted Shimada the most, because the same thing happened to him but he wanted to change his status and so he became a samurai. In addition to Kikuchiyo, I also viewed Rikichi as one of the few peasants that came to understand both sides. He guided them along their journey and even though it was fueled by revenge, he still wanted to help. The shot I took was of Kikuchiyo shown almost a t the angle of a wild animal that was trying to fit in, and ultimately he does with the samurai.

Some points that I saw but didn’t know how to fit in smoothly, were the societal expectations of peasant classes versus the samurais (as well as the higher ups). When Manzo was trying to protect his daughter by cutting her hair, he did not consider her feelings at all, which I felt was normal for many people at the time, viewing women as more commodities than people themselves

Katsushiro and the girl in the flower fields representing the innocence of war

Katsushiro waits for them in the flowers (again)  while Kyuzo and Kikuchiyo are in a higher place which could represent their positions, as well as experience

I really liked this shot that showed the wear that it had on the old ronins (the cost of war). Both of them are very tired, while they let Katsushiro doze off because he is younger

[nerdygirlwithanxiety]

General Information:

Full Name: Anthony Kūrosaki

Nickname(s): Tony, Ant, ShortStack

Age: 18-24

Gender: Male

Place of Birth: Sinho

Date of Birth: 2.12

Star Sign: Aquarius

Species/Race: Human

Occupation: Trainer currently investigating disappearances around unova (possibly)

Status: Active

Appearance:

Height: 5"1-5"3

Weight: 19–24 possibly 107–135 lb

Skin Color: fairly pale

Hair Color: Black (dyed including the red and purple highlights), Brunette (originally)

Hair Style: messy long down to his back

Eye Color: silver

Clothing: black and white jacket, black tie, white shirt, black and white cover shoes

Accessories: black left glove, white right glove, black spikey choker, lip piercings, ear piercing, and nose piercing

Features: three black dots (trust me that's important) with a small black upside down heart

Fighting (in this case pokemon team)

Starter: ✨️Hisui Zorua ✨️♂️ (Gift from his cousin during his 10th birthday)

Secondary Pokémon; Snivy ♂️ (nicknamed; Boop Noodle)

Third Pokémon: Mimikyu♀️ (nicknamed; Spooky)

Fourth Pokémon: Eiscue ♂️

Fifth Pokémon: ✨️Deerling ♂️ (nicknamed: Bambi)

Final Pokémon: ~unknown~

Relationships:

Family: Zerø ( Cousin), Unnamed Father, Unnamed Mother, Zack Kiryuin (step brother), Unnamed adopted Father

Love Interest/Crush: Saturn (formally), Guzma (best friend/roommate)

Friends/Allies: N (friendenemy), Saturn (ex-boyfriend went from allies to enemy), Mars, Jupiter, Pierre (bomd together over pictures), Guzma (current roommate), Newton Graceland (family friend)

Enemies: Team Plasm, Team Galatic *mainly Cyrus *

History:

Before Zorua: Anthony, even as a toddler, he grew up with night terrors for an unknown reason, hence why Zero never once left his side. To him, instead of a cousin, Anthony was more of a little brother. He wanted to give a better chance at having a family , neither of them got to have.

Present day: His journey didn't start until his fourth grade year when Zero and Newton decided to study the reverse world. Zero always took Anthony with him being his legal guardian (especially since Anthony's adopted parents always neglected him throughout his childhood while his biological are presumed dead or missing) even got Anthony the zorua for his birthday to keep him company during the danger parts of research. As time went on, Anthony noticed a slow change in Zero as sanity was slowly disappearing to the point when he hit fifteen years he walked out and started his journey with Zorua. He didn't have a rival until he hit 16-18 when he met N starting off as enemies. The two always buttheads against another, only occasionally helping each other with certain events. At age 18 he temporarily went to Sinoh desperate for a job to take a break from traveling (and desperate for pokemon food to feed his team) and end up joining team galactic training with one of the commanders and eventually grew close with them and at his early 20s they began to date only for an unknown falling out Anthony betrays team galactic finding out the truth giving him some major trauma. After Saturn, Mars and Jupiter went to jail while Cyrus fate was unknown. To step away and get away from that traumatic event, he ran away back to unova in the hope of forgetting that part of his life only to bump into guzma at a concert and befriending him. Time went on, and the two became roommates helping each other out through bills, food, etc. until one faithful day,the mystery began the mysterious disappearance. Anthony knew this wasn't the first time this had happened and the police wouldn't help from how normal its gotten so he went out of his way begin thr investigation on his own with his pokemon and Guzmas help.

Personality:

Anthony is an adventurous, curious person. However, a highly dangerous person with a hidden criminal background only Guzma knows about, and because of that record, he feels very haunted and had maniac highs and lows causing him to laugh and cry at times, when he has those moments Guzma and Zorua stays by his side until hes better. He may have a joking personality, but he uses that personality to hide his depressive state around the public up until he gets home. Because of that, zorua never leaves his side and stays out of his poke ball to comfort and take care of his human. However, when battling all of this personality drops and he gets serious and cocky even more so when he's winning sometimes this cocky attitude causes him to lose. Another thing about Anthony is that he's also very hyperactive and full of energy on his good days.

Quote(s):

"Let's go Zorua let's show these bitches who's the fucking boss!!"

Other Information:

Likes: Apples, Drawing, walking around the park at night, beaches, singing, playing piano, the smell of coffee shops, coffee, Guzma terrible jokes, Pokémon, sweets, sour candy, battling, Pranks, Zorua playful personality, cursing (guzma had to tell him couple times to watch his language before giving up ironically), junk food, crossdressing,occasional cosplay,the smell of weed, clothes shopping with Mae's, reading fashion magazines, painting nails with juniper, hair designing, going to concerts woth Guzma, Pierrs band music, photography.

Dislikes: Team Galactic, Team Plasm, anybody stealing Pokémon, homophobes, drug addicts, taking medicine, being late, night terrors, the disappearance case getting ignored, alchohol smell, being around people unless it's guzma and his friends he's personally close too.

Hobbies: Drawing, singing, dancing, investigating situations authorities ignore, pulling Pranks with zorua and guzma.

Goals: Find the reason for his Night Terrors (on going), Find the missing people and the reason why this is happening (on going)

Habits:

Unhealthy- Chewing nails when having an anxiety attack, chewing his pencil, shopping spree.

Healthy - occasionally exercising at home, train zorua trying to get his team stronger, and spend time with his roommate.

Fears: Saturn finding him, being abandoned, being in total darkness, Guzma possibly getting disappeared by an unknown entity, ultra beast that guzma told him about (specifically the roach), Someone may take zorua away from him specifically team rocket or plasm or galactic too punish him, women on their minstrel cycles.

Trivia:

His voice actor is Adam Lambert, he enjoys punk rock music including hard metal, guzma helps him heal from his past just like Anthony helps guzma, despite his past with Mars and Jupiter he knows the girls are trying to redeem themselves and trust the two like his sisters however when they're having their monthly thing he avoids them at all cost using the ' I ain't dealing with that shit' excuse, he is terrified of roaches so you can see his reaction when learning about Pheromosa from Guzma, he is canonicaly gay.

#anthony kurosaki #pokemon au #pokemon giratina and the sky warrior #hisui zorua #oc #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon black and white

[dualnaturedscientist]

Oh I have this great and amazing idea here. Remember in the dms when we talked about that episode idea where a gas in Silver Knight's suit gets unleashed and it causes people to get powers but also go insane. What if it is the Rhyme and Reason episode. Silver Knight and Wordman are fighting Rhyme and Reason when the gas explodes. So Wordman has to deal with Rhyme and Reason's drama of friendship while dealing with these knew villains including Violet who is a clay face/poison ivy villain and Jenkins becoming a permanent one. It ends with Mouse and him teaming up to stop the chaos and releasing the antidote in the air. Violet and the others are back to normal. Jenkins is still a villain because he was the closest to the gas explosion, and Steven vows to quit being a scientist and is done with inventing with his last invention saving Mouse. So basically everyone gets a resolved ending but Steven.

@melodythebunny

Oh my God yes. That is PERFECT. Ahhh poor Steven. He already went through so much </3 But YES.

I can see a Violet and Mouse battle at one point before they managed to get an antidote to the gas. I bet that was especially emotionally taxing on mouse. Violet trying to rekindle the friendship but as you said in DMs. She's different and Mouse doesn't like the new Violet and wants the old Violet back. Violet doesn't like this rejection and decides she wants a rodent themed statue to add to her collection.

What do you think Jenkins would be like as a villain? Besides vengeful towards the scientist's who had mistreated him before.

I think he would be like his old non villainous self around Steven and Mouse. The others he changes drastically around.

Poor Steven, the guilt becoming so much heavier. Jenkins still mother hens him despite becoming a permanent villain. Dude still wants to help.

What if he pretended that the antidote worked on him so Steven wouldn't have that soul crushing guilt?

But alas someone finds out he was merely faking.

[x-ceirios-x]

Marina Onice

General

Name: Marina Onice

Nickname: Mari, rina, 

Age: 17 (v1-2)

Gender: cis female 

Race: human

Symbol: 

Affiliation(s): Team NCRM, ruby’s group, formerly Ironwood & Atlas Academy, formerly Beacon academy

The Character’s Appearance

Height: 5’2”

Eye Colour: blue

Hair: navy blue, shoulder length and very blunt cut

Complexion: very pale

Picrew 1 2

About The Character

Status: alive, active huntress

Occupation: huntress, former student

Handedness: right

Clothing: Her outfit changes over time, but when she first gets to Beacon she dresses very plainly—typically a white blouse and gray skirt with black boots, sometimes seen in a sweater. As she begins to come out of her shell and her style develops, she begins to develop her signature outfit as others have. 

Outfit Colors: blues & whites with gray & silver accents

Accessories: glasses, azur (her weaponized charm bracelet), sometimes some other jewelry

Personality

Marina is quiet, in a word. She prefers to mostly keep to herself and listen to those around her, rather than inserting herself into conversations. Genuinely, she prefers books and characters to people and would be lost in another world for hours if someone let her. Despite her timid personality, she’s got a bit of a rebellious streak and, as she learns to come out of her shell, begins to stand up for what she believes in. When she’s truly comfortable with someone, though, she’ll spend quite a bit of time with them, even if she’s quiet. She enjoys following people around and observing their life and counts it as quality time. 

Fear(s): losing people closest to her, anything she doesn’t understand

Likes: big sweaters, reading, literature & history classes

Dislikes: coffee, overly sweet things, things she can’t study for

Habit(s): picking at her nails, nervous habit is cleaning her glasses

Fatal Flaw(s): doesn’t like to argue & doesn’t stand up for herself. She won’t argue a point even if she’s right and will accept consequences for something she didn’t do. 

Strengths: close quarter combat, academic courses, piano

Weaknesses: social interaction, group projects, long-range combat

Weapon

Weapon Name: Cadwyn, Asur

Weapon Description: Cadwyn is a long chain with weights on either end, one end being a sickle and the other being a hexagonal shape of metal. The sickle also functions as a gun, with the handle having the place for a trigger and a barrel that shoots past it before it curves. 

Asur is actually a gift from her sister that she got after she passed—it was something she made while at Atlas and used in a pinch. When a charm is ripped/broken off, it detonates and releases a smoke bomb. 

Relationship With Others

Reputation: Most people either don’t notice her or do and they’re uninterested. She keeps to herself and prefers it that way. 

Friends: Her friends that she’s close with outside the team are pretty minimal, however most would agree that she’s very sweet and caring for those that share the same attitude with her. She’s a great listener and has comforting energy, even if she’s not as good at talking. 

Team: She considers her team a better family than what she has by blood. She and Roza get on well and tend to do things together outside of school (especially when she wants to go shopping and Marina can’t tell her no). Out of the three others, she’s the least close with Ebony because they’re such stark opposites. They don’t have much in common, but she still has his back and he has hers. 

Coal threw her for a loop. At Beacon, she planned on keeping her head low and working with her team when she had to, but Coal didn’t let that happen. From the moment they locked eyes in the forest, she knew she was in for it considering his boisterous and excitable personality. Eventually, she thought of him less as a bee buzzing in her ear, and instead as a friend. That friendship turned into something she hadn’t felt recently: a love that made her feel safe and truly cared for. 

Enemy(ies): Her only real “enemies” are the Grimm she’s fighting and rivalries between siblings in her family. Even then, she swears she still cares about them even if she wants to tear her hair out because of them sometimes. 

The Character’s Abilities

Agility: 6/10

Swordsmanship:  7/10

Long Range Accuracy: 5/10

Defense: 7/10

Offense: 8/10

Aura: 7/10

People Skills: 2/10

Semblance: She has the ability to mute people’s speech. Marina can control who is affected around her and can flip a switch on whether they can make noise or not. She doesn’t like to use it and it doesn’t help in a fight much so not many know of it.

Brief History

Marina grew up in a large family, the youngest of five siblings in Atlas. As the baby of the family, she had a hard time figuring out how to make herself noticeable compared to her (much older) sibling’s achievements, so let herself fall to the wayside when need be. The one person who wouldn’t allow that behavior past reasonable expectations was her oldest sister, Azura, who insisted on helping as much as she could. Azura was a licensed huntress by the time Marina was ten, and they started training together around that time. They worked out an entire plan for her future: she’d attend Beacon in Vale (because she wanted out of Atlas and away from her family) and she’d follow her sister’s footsteps to become a huntress. 

However, before she could even apply, she received news that her sister’s team had been caught in a Grimm attack no one was expecting and Azura had died. While distraught, her entire family’s reaction to the news only spurred her further to attend school and finish what Azura couldn’t. 

Trivia

Had no clue the charm bracelet was a bunch of smoke bombs until one broke during a mission and saved her life from some Grimm 

More to be added

#xx.marina rwby #rwby #rwby ocs #rwby oc team #rwby oc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #clover ebi #weiss schnee #sssn #jnpr #ornj #team jnpr #team sssn #ace ops

[lab-trash]

I wrote this in two hours when I was supposed to be sleeping. 

Chase meeting Kaz felt like some sort of fate. They’d met once before and they stuck together the whole time. Then they separated, didn’t keep in touch, nothing.

And then they met again. It was as if the universe wanted them in each other’s lives.

But Chase didn’t believe in stupid shit like that, so he didn’t think about it, even if that was how it felt sometimes. 

It felt like he was meant to be around Kaz— He was the happiest when he was around Kaz. 

It reminded him of… No, it didn’t. Because his friendship with Kaz was a thousand times better than whatever he had going on with him.

He trusted Kaz. Even when Kaz messed up, he apologised. He showered Chase with real, genuine praise— even if it was sometimes just to mess with Oliver— and treated him with so much respect.

No one had ever done that before. 

Most people treated him… very poorly to say the least. They treated him like he didn’t deserve recognition for his intelligence and accomplishments, which made it hard for him to be proud of himself, which just made him louder that he was proud. Because he knew he should be proud, but he couldn’t be. 

They treated him like he wasn’t quite a person, even his fellow bionic siblings. 

Sometimes it felt like it was especially his bionic siblings who treated him as less than a person. 

They treated him like he was just some thing to keep around because they had to, not because they wanted to. 

Kaz didn’t treat him that way. 

Kaz always smiled when he saw Chase come in, and greeted him with joy in his voice. Kaz sat close to Chase and included him in the conversation. 

This especially applied to when they were with Oliver. Kaz and Oliver had a natural flow, they’d been best friends for years. And that could make Chase feel really left out. So Kaz usually tried to explain what they were talking about as they went along. 

Chase felt like that should’ve made him feel like he was being treated like a child, but he knew that wasn’t Kaz’s intention, so he didn’t. He loved learning about what Kaz (and subsequently Oliver) was interested in, because that meant that he was worth teaching. It meant that Kaz wanted Chase to know so that he could be included. 

Kaz treated Chase like he was the best thing in the room, and like he deserved the world. 

What an astonishing change of pace. 

It was a bit of an odd realisation that Chase had a crush on him. He didn’t notice until a few days into their team, but when he did, it was… inconvenient. 

How ridiculous. 

He realised when his father, and Kaz’s best friend, were dangling off their building. 

He realised when Kaz continued to speak to him like he was the most special thing, even in this dire situation. He realised when Kaz listened to Chase, even though the idea may not have been the best one. He realised when he felt their hands brush together in the bucket of popcorn Kaz had made for them. 

Chase tried hard to force these feelings down. They weren’t appropriate due to their teammate status. They had been proven in the past to result only in pain and suffering. 

It was too much, to the point that Chase tried to make a girlfriend for himself. Seven, to be exact. They must’ve had just a little bit too much of himself in them, because they all liked Kaz, even when their programming was almost completely wiped and they were given free will. 

It was hard to ignore. It was hard to ignore when Kaz was praising him, telling him just how amazing he was for getting Skylar’s powers back. It was hard to ignore when Kaz was adorably smart, pretending to be bionic. 

It was hard to ignore when they worked together to make mission suits— especially since Kaz needed help putting the suit on and Chase may have stared for a moment— and Kaz praised him for all of his ideas, and was just as enthusiastic when pitching his own. 

It was hard to ignore when Kaz really wasn’t Kaz and Chase got this sinking when he realised, extremely worried for how he was and where he was.

It was hard to ignore the multiple times that Kaz saved his life. 

Eventually, he started not wanting to ignore it. He wanted to embrace the warm feeling he got when Kaz spoke to him, and when he smiled at him. He wanted the feeling that came whenever Kaz leaned particularly close or when their legs pressed together. 

The week Kaz showed Chase Fantasy Football was the best week of his life. They went out almost every day, together, just the two of them. It was amazing. 

Chase tried not to get himself caught up in the fantasy of them being together, but it was hard. He wanted to be with Kaz. 

He was planning on scrapping Kaz’s drone design, but he just couldn’t. First of all, it was Kaz. Chase couldn’t stand to hurt him like that. Second of all, the drone was just so distinctly Kaz that Chase didn’t want to change it. He wanted to put it in their room so that every night as they went to bed, they could remember the creation they made together. 

He didn’t intend for Kaz to ever find out, but in the end, he was so, so happy that he did. 

“Why didn’t you scrap my drone design?” Kaz suddenly asked. After the Fantasy Football Week, Kaz started keeping Chase company in the Mission Command.

“I told you, I felt guilty,” Chase said, not looking up. He knew that wasn’t the reason. Not the only reason. He wasn’t the best liar. But how would Kaz know that?

“You’re lying.” Chase looked up, surprised. “You wouldn’t look at me. You didn’t look at me the first time you told me either. You always look at me when we talk.” He let out a light laugh. “If you can tell me without looking away, I’ll believe you.”

Chase could do that. He could lie to the face of the boy he was hopelessly in lo— crushing on. 

“I just—” He glanced away for just a split second “—felt guilty,” He said. Once he was done with the sentence, he looked away again. Not at anything in particular, just away from Kaz. 

“Chase…” Kaz said quietly. Chase didn’t notice him reaching his hand out until it reached his face and tilted Chase’s head toward him. “What’s the real reason?” He asked. 

“I… just didn’t want to,” Chase admitted. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either, Chasey,” Kaz said with a small laugh. Chase’s heart only pounded harder at the nickname. 

He went to pull his hand away but Chase followed his hand, and before he got too far, Kaz stopped, leaving his hand there. He did move it down a bit, resting more on his jaw and neck. 

“I think I would’ve understood,” Kaz said, stepping a bit closer, probably just to make it so his arm wasn’t too uncomfortable. “I understand right now. You don’t like losing, and I understand that.” He stepped closer again. “But honestly, I think I’d forgive you for anything. You could do anything, and I would still forgive you.” 

He could do anything. 

Chase knew that Kaz absolutely did not mean kissing him out of nowhere without asking, and that was probably, almost definitely crossing the line of anything, but he did it anyway. 

He was just so… he needed to know what it felt like. 

It was very short, only barely being too long to qualify as a peck. 

“Forgive me,” He said, as soon as he pulled away. 

“For what?” Kaz asked quietly, pulling his hand away. 

“For kissing you,” Chase said nervously. 

“Are you going to do it again?” Kaz asked. 

“No! Of course not, I am so so sorry for even doing it once,” Chase rushed to say. Kaz crossed his arms. 

“Then I don’t think there’s any way I could forgive you,” He said, his voice timid. “If you’re just going to kiss me, and then not do it again, I… I guess I was wrong, I can’t forgive you. Not right now.” Chase hesitated.

“What?” He asked. 

“Chase, you can’t just… you can’t just kiss someone who clearly likes you and then just pretend like it never happened!” Kaz said, a bit defensively.

“You… what?” Chase blanked so hard, barely being able to process at all what he said. “You want me to kiss you again?” 

“Of course I do!” Kaz exclaimed. “Chase, have you not seen yourself?” He asked. “I tell you all the time how amazing you are, how smart and interesting and funny you are, and you can’t process the idea that I maybe have a crush on you?” 

“You want me to kiss you again,” Chase said, trying to get it through his head. Kaz didn’t answer that time, just looked down. 

Chase stepped closer immediately, took Kaz’s face in both of his hands and kissed him again. 

He was allowed. He was allowed to chase this feeling, he was allowed to feel this warmth and joy. 

Kaz kissed back this time, although he hesitated. Chase feared that Kaz maybe thought this was out of pity; Chase wanted him to know that this is what he wanted. 

When they pulled away, Chase kept their faces close.

“You like me,” He said, still processing it.

“Yeah,” Kaz said. “Do you like me?” He asked slowly. 

“Of course I do,” Chase said, pulling back a bit more. “I like you so much.”

Ever since then, they’d been dating. They never really had a proper conversation about it, but a week in they started calling each other their boyfriends, and it’d been that way ever since.

#lab rats elite force #mighty med #lab rats #chase davenport #kase #kaz mm #kaz lref #chaz #this has nothing to do with hamilton

[sebastian-blakewood]

CHARACTER INFORMATION:

full name: Sebastian Blakewood

nickname(s): Seb, Sebby

pronouns & gender: he/him, cis man

sexuality: heterosexual

age: thirty-two

relationship status: single

birth date: november 3, 1991

birth place: Charleston, South Carolina

time in town: since january 21, 2023

occupation: IT manager

parents: Troy Blakewood & Serena Hutchins (deceased)

siblings: Orion Blakewood

personality: overly independent, nervous, intelligent, fast paced

pet: none

APPEARANCE:

celebrity doppelgänger: oliver starke

height: 6'2"

hair color: light brown

eye color: blue

FAVORITES:

color: orange

food: french onion soup

non-alcoholic beverage: gatorade zero

alcoholic beverage: any IPA beer

season: summer

candle scent: midnight sky

book: last girl ghosted

video game: call of duty; modern warfare 2

tv show: the good doctor

animated tv show: big mouth

movie: for the love of the game

holiday movie: nightmare before christmas

disney movie: hercules

pixar movie: monster's inc

disney original movie: eddie's million dollar cookoff

candy: bottle caps

chocolate candy: sno caps

Fruit: apples

Vegetable: celery

cuisine to eat: anything italian

cuisine to make: anything microwaved

genre of music: country

artist: lil dicky

song: titanium by david guetta ft. sia

BIOGRAPHY:

tw; death Sebastian never grew up with many expectations because he knew that people were always going to let you down. It was probably because his father had always been the one letting people down since he had Sebastian. His mother was always there for him, but it always seemed that his father was coming and going. It always seemed like there was somewhere else more important  to be to the point where it was just Sebastian and his mother.  Eventually, there was one night where his father left and he never came back when Sebastian was a year and a half old. He didn't know where his father went but he never came back and worried that something happened to him, Sebastian's mother posted out a missing person's report but come to find out he had just moved states and decided to start again with someone else. This was heartbreaking to Sebastian's mom and it wasn't something that she ever wanted him to find out about.  From a young age, it was clear that Sebastian was proficient in baseball. He loved the sport whether it was watching it or participating in it. It was something his mom and him bonded over because she was raised on it as well. Even though they rooted for apposing teams, they would always still have fun with one another.  In high school, Sebastian continued to play baseball and was even offered a scholarship to his college of choice and he decided to go and play for them. While he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, he knew that Baseball was a big passion of his so that made sense. Especially since college was free. Not that money was ever something that Sebastian and his mom worried about. While in college, Sebastian had taken a computer class for his liberal arts degree and he loved the idea of learning more about computers so he decided to take a couple more classes that revolved around the use of computers and he was falling in love with coding and learning how different programs worked. He decided to switch his degree to IT Tech and that seemed to become a real passion of his. While he was in school for five years, it never bothered him because he changed his major too late to graduate on time, plus it gave him more time to play baseball.  Graduation days was the best and worst day of his life for very different reasons. He was graduating at the top of his class and while his mom was driving to the ceremony, she was hit by a tractor trailer and she died on impact. Obviously, Sebastian didn't know this and he gave his speech where he thanked his mom for being his number one supporter. He found out after the ceremony about the incident and he was heartbroken. He felt into a deep despair where he didn't get out of bed for days and then he turned to drinking to help him cope with the loss of his best friend. At the end of the day though, he needed to get up and move on so he decided to sell their family home and he moved to Los Angeles where he started building a name for himself in the tech world.  He worked his way up the ladder and he felt like he was missing something so he found out where his father was and he found out that his father had gone and gotten himself another family. This infuriated Sebastian and he needed to confront him so he went to New York where his father was and they spoke about things. After finding out that he had a half brother, Orion, he decided that he wanted to build a relationship because his mother was gone and his father was basically dead to him so he went to Kismet Harbor and accepted a job as an IT manager and was hoping to build a relationship with his brother. 

#kismetharbor.intro

[raiiryuu]

Been needing to add this to this blog for a while, so I'm gonna try to get the Big Points ready to go so it's at least visible since I've fully switched to calling it 'canon divergent.' Some key points of difference or my view regarding events under the cut, more to be added later!

Laxus and Makarov: Laxus isn't particularly close with any of his remaining blood relatives, for various reasons. He still uses the same name for Makarov as he did as a child mostly out of habit, and usually only when speaking to him directly. There is still a bit of animosity about Ivan's separation from the guild, but it's something that's sort of been marked as an 'agree to disagree' at this point -- there's no saving things now, and arguing further is energy wasted.

Laxus vs Raven Tail in the GMG: This was always kinda strange to me, going back to it after the fact. It makes sense for Ivan to resurface after the Tenrou team did, as he knew no one else knew about Lumen Histoire, but it makes NO sense how he did it, to me. I've been trying to think of a way to make that work, because I do still want Ivan and Laxus to have that conversation. For now, it stays as is, but this is subject to change. I may later have Ivan contacting Laxus separately from the Games to discuss Lumen Histoire and get him doubting. Makarov and Mavis not going into detail on what exactly LH is doesn't help his wariness at all, though as in the manga he doesn't press the issue.

That being said, he doesn't hate Makarov or Ivan. Does he think they both have done things they shouldn't/could have handled things better? Of course. He feels the same way about a lot of the things he's done himself. Is he going to turn his back on his family because of it? Absolutely not. He doesn't have much, if any, contact with Ivan at present, and doesn't necessarily have the highest opinion of him, but things could be far worse. Like with Makarov, he's kinda content to leave things as they are for now. He's got plenty of people to support him that he considers family just the same as his flesh and blood.

The Dragon Issue: the Eclipse Gate shenanigans after the GMG should not have happened the way they did. You spent an entire series hyping up dragon slayer magic to be able to slay dragons, only for it to not matter in the moment? Nah. They were at the very least holding their own, but the gate being closed still got rid of the dragons for good.

Though the Bane/Magic Barrier particles in Laxus's body have been cleared up thanks to the fight with Wahl, the damage they did is still very present, and causes painful episodes and difficulty breathing. The frequency and severity can vary day to day, but it's something he's (grudgingly) working with Porlyusica to treat over time. Sometimes it makes him feel like he's a sickly little kid again, though he'll never bring it up.

During the year timeskip, I'm taking the events of the Raigo Issen spinoff as mostly canon. The Raijinshuu join Blue Pegasus and Laxus very quickly gets fed up by the typical work there, but there are jobs available that are more along the lines of what he's used to. It's during this time that he learns the Red Lightning magic he uses against Wahl Icht. Having it just randomly surface as homage to his great-grandfather always felt a little odd to me, but he had plenty of time to do some research on it prior to this fight.

Laxus carried Makarov to the guild mostly out of a sense of duty, at first, but the longer he had to process he was dead, the worse it felt. He still hasn't sorted his feelings on this out completely, especially with Makarov's return soon after.

Now that I've reread it, the ending. You bet your ass every single one of those dragon slayers got their fair blows in on Acno before he went down.

Regarding dragonification: we never did get clarification on the second-gen slayers' status on this, did we...? As far as this blog is concerned it is still a risk, but one he's keeping quiet about. [The dragon AU I have is about it specifically happening at the point it does, not it happening in general.]

More TBA

#;;mythos { headcanons } #canon divergence post tag

[irondad-defensesquad]

(mcu) tony stark is canonically:

an alcoholic

abused and emotionally neglected by his also alcoholic father in his entire childhood (*the mcu does confirm this even if it tries to paint howard in a "good" light, check the comics related to im2)

also visibly groomed and almost egregiously killed by his mentor who took him in when tony was young, essentially taking advantage of that to take over stark industries and the belic industry

traumatized with clear (complex?) ptsd and panic attacks

responsible of his weapons being illegally sold to terrorize ppl (ofc i agree the portrayal in the movie is flawed, but he doesn't even mean to expose it to the media for status. well he said iron man to the journalists which is my next point:)

heavily punished for the consequences of his actions - revealing his identity to the world, especially for trying to mess with a known terrorist in live TV. iron man 2 and 3 are all about the direct and indirect consequences of his actions, and also his father's legacy, remember howard is the one that created stark industries in the first place. and tony ultimately decides no i'm not my father, i don't need to be him, i'm not gonna continue this cycle of war and violence neither at myself or other ppl

uninterested to work with the military from the very beginning, perfectly knew the government would take his suits and transform them in military weapons. this is the whole fucking plot of iron man 2? it's presented as a bad thing?? stane wanted to create an armor of iron men, in im2 it does happen and it's a fucking disaster!!! tony didn't want the iron men used in war! they would 100% kill innocent ppl with his suits just like they did his weapons before. why would tony want that???

manipulated by wanda with the vision of all his allies dead

still perfectly willing to take up responsibility for ultron

the creator of vision, consequently taking away jarvis the only remaining connection he had to his beloved father figure

the most dedicated to keep the avengers together

the first one to want to listen to steve without immediately trusting the government. he actually changes his mind after team cap is arrested! he talks to sam! he tries to understand where steve comes from and doesn't actually fight bucky until the news of his parents. which he has every goddamn reason not to be "rational" about btw

even after losing his team, still a caring mentor/father figure to peter parker. ofc he was unreachable at first, but after homecoming he made sure he and peter were on the same page! they regularly began to communicate!

a good friend to harley keener, gave him all the good tech! and avenged his dora watch

nebula's first friend and the first person who tells nebula she's a winner, not comparing her to gamora or anyone else knowing exactly how it is to have a father that doesn't love them

the group's dad friend. really. he takes care of everyone. he's the first to reach out. he doesn't judge thor at all iirc!

the best dad in the entire mcu (ofc right there with scott lang but scott is actually canonically best grandma, so tony is best dad, it's canon)

the entire back of the franchise. whether you like this or not

feel free to add to the list i certainly forgot something but here you go

#i've watched and rewatched the iron man movies so i hope this is all correct #lotus speaks #tony stark defense squad #ask to tag #alcohol mention tw #abuse mention tw #death mention tw #long post #antis do not derail #irondad

[brivetaroundtown]

Is it almost 3am on the day the collab is due? Yes. But you know better here then never right? THANK YOU SO MUCH @seita for letting me join your Corrupt A Virgin collab. Go check out the other awesome contributors! It’s very yummy if I do say so myself and I do say so

Link Here

Also I did look up if ducks could drown so that’s now a thing in my search history.

Aged Up Tsukishima Kei x Fem Reader

TW: LEMON ALL THE LEMONS. NSFW SMUT. Dub Con, Tsukki being an asshole, Corruption kink, yan vibes, my writing, virginity loss. use of lamb asa pet name. If you see anything else PLEASE let me know so I can tag it.

2,342 words

Tsukishima wondered if you had grown up in a bubble. That could be the only way someone could have been kept so pure, so innocent. So utterly unequipped to handle even the most mild of flirtations. Surely, you had to know that everyone on the Sendai Frogs has been flirting with you at some point or another. More importantly, he has been flirting with you. Sure, he isn’t the most generous when it comes to niceties, but my god woman you had to have had some sort of clue by now.

But as Tsukishima stares down at your innocent face, he realizes that you have absolutely no idea the effect you have on him. That only makes him want you more.

“Y/N” the smirk couldn’t leave his face even if he wanted it too “you want me to walk you home.”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way or anything! I-its just getting dark and I am not used to this side of town…”

“Of course not, wouldn’t want our little manager to get lost.”

Such a sweet thing you were, thinking of others. Let’s see how far he can push that… accommodating… spirit.

30 minutes later they had finally arrived at your place. Kei could have cut that time in half by taking a short cut you knew nothing about, but where would the fun be in that? Besides, as you got to your apartment door, he knew that you would feel obligated to let him in. Kei did go out of his way to help you home after all, it was the least you could do.

“Thank you for walking me home Tsukishima-san! Ah w-would you like to come in for a drink or anything? I feel bad for making you walk all this way.” Blush staining your cheeks, you unconsciously bit the corner of your lip, a nervous habit of yours. Kei doesn’t even think you know that you do it. “Of course, a water would be nice.”

Kei’s first look at your little studio apartment confirms his earlier assessment of you. Innocent. Still classy, what with the greys and blues in the modern style but the stuffed narwhals and other cutesy sea creature decorations offset the steel bookcases and matching steel appliances. What also doesn’t surprise him is how organized the place is, having seen some of your spreadsheets for the team and your current struggles to organize the equipment closet.

Kei watched you move around your little kitchen. The way you stood on your toes to grab a glass, shirt lifting enough to give him a teasing glance of your smooth skin underneath. It was enough to make a lesser man beg. Thankfully, Kei considered himself not to be a lesser man. He wouldn’t be the one begging tonight.

You felt nervous with Tsukishima’s eyes on you. It’s always hard to normal tasks when someone is watching. But it’s especially more intimidating when that someone is Tsukishima Kei. He was so smart and quick. He made you nervous, you felt clunky around him being so much shorter than he was. Rounder too.

But whenever he included you in on a joke or smirked at you, you felt the butterflies in your pulse, heat rising to your cheeks. Special. It was a little crush, one you were pretty sure was one sided. And now that crush was seated at the island bar in your kitchen. Looking ridiculously tall in such a little space.

You slide him the glass of water while rapidly trying to think of something to say, feeling like an awkward duck drowning in a pond. That’s how dumb you felt, you’re not even sure ducks can drown.

“Can ducks drown?” Wincing at the realization that you said something that stupid out loud. You go to save yourself trying to ramble about your weird thought process but were thankfully stopped short.

“I guess if they weren’t able to produce the oils to stay a-float they would. Why do you ask? Save a drowning duck recently?” The warm chuckle and smirk were comforting. In its own weird way.

‘Look at you,’ the thought comes, ‘breaking the ice and being able to maintain your awkward status. You should win a medal.’ Thankfully, this is not a thought that comes out loud.

“N-no, that would be silly, not even sure what I would do in that situation.” The giggles come unabated, a pleasant combination of flustered joy.

“It’s one of the many things I like about you,” Tsukishima continues “you always have the most interesting thoughts.”

“You have things you like about me?” Your face is hot. Butterflies turning into waves as you try to assess. The whole moment is overwhelming.

“Do you think I would have walked you home if I didn’t?”

Tsukishima doesn’t expect an answer. Enough is enough, if not now when? Taking advantage of your flustered state, Kei had rounded the little island, cornering you to a counter. Hands placed on either side you.

“You asked me to walk you home because you liked me too, didn’t you?” his voice was low in your ear, breath hot on your neck. All the sensations, the heat coming from his tall body, the smell of his cologne and him was becoming too much. Everything was just so new for you.

“I..i..i”

“Well now you have me here. Wanting you like you want me.” He quirks a brow “you do want me don’t you? Or are you just a slutty tease? How cruel of you.”

“N-no!” You weren’t a tease, you did like him, you did want to get to know him more. This was just all.. s-so so much. Too much. “I like you, I..i do! I-“

With his soft lips against yours Kei cuts you off. Its unexpectedly soft for someone re-known for their vicious tongue. Who knew that that the words of a devil hid behind the soft lips of a saint?

Easily lifting you to sit on top of your counter, Kei slips his body between your thighs as he continues to taste you, drinking your soul that comes out in whimpers. “So sweet Y/N-chan.” His lips keep softly pressing along your jaw, softly nibbling on your ear.

“Do you know what I think? I think you have been wanting me for a while. Tell me, do you think of me when you touch yourself here” long fingers teased along your inner thighs, under your skirt, to trace along your quickly dampening panties. Your head shaking no, body feeling thick with the unknown powers of lust, words not able to make it past your lips. Then he rubs your clothed clit, and it is nothing like the brief moments you have touched yourself. It’s a test that Kei has definitely studied for, your body instantly reacting, the lust building, knotting in your stomach.

Moans singing from your throat, you didn’t even realize that you had gripped onto his arms. As if they could anchor you to reality when all of your nerves were shooting off to space. Kei watched as you climbed higher, and once you were close to the precipice, so close to shattering he pulled back, kissing you soundly. “Now now, don’t want to be selfish. Don’t you want us to come together?” His grin is sharp but he still kisses you so softly. The difference makes your head spin.

“I..i have never done anything before… s’much too so-“ your whimpers are silenced by the soft lips of the devil. “I haven’t done much before either” he lies “but don’t you want me like I want you?” Of course you couldn’t, Kei thought, he wanted to own you.

“I never thought you would be so selfish Y/N” your head began to shake on your own. You weren’t selfish, you did like him. You did! Your frantically whispered “please” had the sharp grin in place.

Kei lifts you towards your bed in the corner of the room, thankful for your studio layout. Sinful tongue tracing down your neck as you are laid upon the bed. He slips skillful fingers beneath your clothes, taking his time exposing your skin. The slow burn of your innocence rising like smoke. In this moment you experience the clarity that, whatever happens tonight will change you forever. And you are powerless to stop it.

Too much too soon too much too soon too much too soon “ahhh” the shocked scream leaves your throat as Kei suckles a nipple into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach, winding you higher, overwhelmed by all the new textures and sensations. Nothing was as you imagined, you could have never prepared for this. “K-kei” his name spilling from your lips did something to him, grazing teeth against the sensitive nub.

As he continued to show attention to your sensitive nipples, his fingers had been tracing your bare pussy lips, gathering the wetness from between your folds. The long digits searched lower, gaining entrance into your wet heat. Stretching you open, exploring to depths that you have never dared go before. Pleasure rising within you, you begin to pant as you reach a higher peak than before, knot tightening and yet you still could not break.

“We should come together.” Kei mummers against your skin as he slowly rises up your body. You are just so small compared to him. Kissing you deeply, he moves your legs to be around his waist, letting you feel the warm hardness of his length. Looking down, nervousness began to coincide with the rising of your impending crash, he was thicker and longer than you would have ever imagined. Similar to the rest of him, the red tip angry and leaking precum as Kei rubbed it along the wetness leaking down your thighs.

“Its not going to fit” you whimper out, head tossing at the pleasure of his tip hitting your clit. “Shh shh my little lamb, don’t get selfish, you can take this like a good girl. Watch, I will show you how good you can be.” With a groan Kei grabs his length aiming at your entrance. “We will go slow, let you feel all of me”. With that he began to rock in, tip breaking through the first ring.

Head thrown back with a groan he continued to slowly rock his dick inside of you, inch by slow inch. Thumb constantly playing with your clit, rubbing against the side of the hood as he paused to let you stretch. You were so unbelievably tight, even beyond virgin expectations. Your breathing was labored, your whole world focused on the stretch between your thighs, unknowingly clenching against the intrusion. Too much too soon too much too soon.

“Easy lamb, breathe for me” Kei spoke through gritted teeth. He was capable of kindness, you were his after all. There would be plenty of time to slam into you later. You began to loosen as he cooed at you, Kei never stopping the slow rocking of his hips. After what felt like eons, he had finally broken through, balls deep inside of you, letting you adjust to his length while he caught his breath, gloating at being the one to experience your tight heat enveloping him, of being your first. And your last, if he had any say about it.

“My sweet little lamb, being such a good slut for me” Kei cooed kissing away your tears that you hadn’t even realized were on your face. “Lets cum together yea? Would you like that?” you nodded your head, ready for the fall, for the anything you just needed him to move. “Use your big girl words” Kei admonished still holding still, even his thumb had stopped moving.

“P-please Kei please move, I w-want us-s to cu-m together-r” you moaned, not even finished with your desperate pleading before Kei pulled his hips back to begin ricking his cock in. A steady yet faster pace than he had originally intended, but he was only human after all, and he needed you to cum with him. He needed you to need him.

You were overwhelmed, only capable of strangled moans of Kei, and too much, and don’t stops. His thumb continuing its assault on your clit, the pace of his hips steady and fast and deep. You could swear you could taste him, he was hitting so deep inside of you, his thick length dragging along your walls. Driving you higher and higher, to where pain was pleasure and pleasure was pain.

Kei was close. He knew you were close, could feel it as you fluttered around him. Lifting your legs to his shoulders he changed the angle, searching for the spot inside of you that would completely push you over the edge, would ruin you. With a keen cry tearing from your lips he knew that he found it. Angling his thrusts he kept up his pace knowing that it was only a matter of time.

“S’too much stop. cant cant cant” your head knocked back and forth, your body on fire, electric almost nuclear reactive. “Yes, you can. Cum for me lamb” Kei demanded. His voice hard, determined. As if his words could control sin, you shattered, body spasming as you fell back to earth, hitting every rock along the way. It was a relief filled with sharp edges, causing tears to fall and shakey breaths. Kei cooed at you, telling you what a good little slut you were for him as he fucked you through your orgasm, quickly cumming himself as you milked him dry, painting your inner walls white.

Kei pulled out, a stretched out beside you, gathering you on top of his chest. “What a sinful little lamb you are, letting me do all of that to you.” Exhaustion was overtaking your body, as you gathered your wits about you, shame starting to replace pleasure.

You tried to defend yourself, but Kei interrupted you “its ok to be a slut for me lamb. Because you want me, and now I have you.”

#seita collab #Corrupt A Virgin Collab #tsukishima x reader #Lemon #no minors allowed #minors begone #dreaming of Kei's fingers #yandere #Brivet Writings #Brivet Filth #Brivet Dark Filth

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations. 

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat,  “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

                                                ***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

                                             ***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #twisted

[80s4life]

You Take Good Care Of Her Pt.1

Word Count: 1,416

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: The Expendables {1-3}

A/N: So this was one of my writings I have on my Wattpad, and decided to have it brought over here to Tumblr. This isn't my best work, but it's okay I guess.

Relationship: Lee Christmas x Reader 

Summary: Y/N and Barney Ross are half siblings. With their lives not being easy, the only people they had were each other, Barney raising her as his own.  But, that all changes when she decides to serve our country, earning many scars outsiders will never see.  When she returns however, she might actually get the happy ending Barney and her have always dreamed of.

Warnings: language, a little bit of angst

Masterlist The Expendables Masterlist Part Two

{Not my gif}

For the next few years, with Barney's extensive training and knowledge with hand-to-hand combat, how to quick draw a weapon, and how to know how to use it, Y/N had become a strong woman.  Y/N never understood how or why he knew these things, but yet again, she never doubted her brother for a second.  Barney has always been there for her, as he was now, teaching her self defense in the best way possible.

After Y/N had graduated high school, she joined the army, starting out as a nurse but quickly changing ranking when a horrific war came in, needing her well hidden skills.  Barney was proud of his little Gumdrop, the nickname he had given her from the day she was born, but he would be lying if he didn't say he was the least bit nervous.  He knew she could handle herself, especially when Y/N had even made it a point in learning all different types of weapons, perfecting Barney's signature skills, and going way beyond anything either of them could imagine.  Barney was almost like a proud father.

To say that military didn't change a thing about a person would've been a full-faced lie.  It had made you hard, cold to the touch, maybe in the worst ways selfish, too.  Y/N was never one to put herself first, but in the military world, although you are all fighting alongside each other as a team, the main point was for you to take care of yourself and only focus on keeping yourself alive; no one else mattered on the battlefield.

Y/N had started to write a diary, trying to keep herself from driving off the deep end into insanity.  She was lonely, something that was expected in this way of life.  Battle was a different world, a separate one from the world of the more fortunate ones, the ones not in war.  Y/N had made a few friends, but as the wars raged on outside, they slowly died off, scaring her, and not wanting to have to hurt as much as she does because of how much she cares.

But after all, nothing is permanent.  No one stays forever, and that made Y/N miss her brother all the more.  As she writes in her diary, she also wrote letters home to Barney, those that could have a range of time before getting a response back.  After all, Barney was stuck on missions, making a group called the Expendables, and spending so much time up just to not be alone, worrying for his baby sister, and if she will actually come home alive.

After 10 years, Y/N was able to return home, different, but whole.  Barney, who had responded a few weeks before, had been the first to see her come down the escalator of the airport, more than ready to feel whole again, to have his family back.  When she had spotted him, she practically tackled anyone in her way, almost tripping down the steps to get to her brother.  With a lunge and a jump, she crushed her older brother in a rib shattering hug, tears of joy not only pouring out of her eyes, but his too, although he'd never admit to it.  Clearing his throat he said, "Let's get you home Gumdrop."

After loads of catching up, Barney told her there were people he wants her to meet, as he was going to show her what he had spent so much time training her for, to be one with the boys, the Expendables.  Barney had blabbed about what it is he had done on the ride before entering Tool's shop, which is what made Y/N so eager to meet the rest of the gang, knowing what and who they were before they even entered her life.

The first person she met was Tool, an older man with a rugged smile, warm eyes, streaked hair, and a creative eye for everything he sees.  Y/N enjoyed him and took a close liking to him immediately, becoming a weird yet funny father she never had.  She was caught up in a conversation with Tool, missing the warm smile her brother had as he watched his sister find someone so alike to her, talk to her, and share interests that normal fathers would, even if it wasn't by blood.  Then, multiple other men filled the room of Tool's tattoo shop, the smell of testosterone, grease, and smoke filling the room as the roaring of motorcycle engines came pouring in, soon shutting off.

Barney and Tool introduced Y/N to every person of the group before they all spread out and did their own thing.  Toll Road, one of the members, had talked to her, being kind and gentle, a total opposite of his professional career choice.  After that, Y/N had made her rounds, talking to everyone: Gunnar Jensen, quiet, handsome, tall, and quite funny.  Yin Yang, small, quick-witted, loyal, and very caring.  Hale Caesar, the most hilarious person Y/N had ever met, very playful, and a lot of fun to hang out with.  She had met everyone, except one; Lee Christmas.  

A few times during the night, their eyes had met, as if it were electric that made them shudder and stare on many occasions.  But, although many looks were made, he had made it his duty to avoid her like the plague.  "But why?" was a constant thought that crossed her mind.

As time passed, Y/N had become just one of the guys, squeezing her tiny self into the little family they had all made.  Tool had given her her own specialty Expendables tattoo to make it official too.  Decorating it with vines and flowers, "Matching your personality," Tool would tell her, "Beautiful and delicate alongside other flowers in a bundle, yet hard and piercing when messed with by the wrong hands."  Y/N enjoyed her tattoo all the much more, taking his words to heart and placing a sweet kiss on his cheek.  She never realized the eyes that watched her so calmly from afar though.

What Y/N didn't know was how Lee actually felt, and that was a charge he knew was on him.  It never stopped him from getting jealous though, stiffening as he watched her every moves.  He had fallen for her soft Y/E/C eyes, and Y/H/L, Y/H/C hair that only she could make beautiful the second he met her.  He would talk to her every now and then, but always kept his distance, knowing exactly who she belonged to.  Barney would have his ass hit by a train if he ever touched her, and that was because she had gone through so much already, Barney not wanting anymore pain in her life.

Despite his attempts, he knew he wouldn't ever be able to resist her, and for that, he didn't care what he had to go through, he was going to have her. Because she was his, and he was hers, no matter who knew.

To be continued...

#lee christmas x reader #lee christmas imagine #lee x reader #female reader #reader insert #barney ross x reader #tool #gunnar #gunnar jensen #expendables #expendables imagine #expendables x reader #yin yang #hale caesar #barney ross #jason statham #sylvester stallone #mickey rourke #dolph lundgren #terry crews #jet li #randy couture #toll road

[lazyliars]

The Quackity Meta: a Tale of Two Absolutes

More than anything else, Quackity wants control, and to never, ever lose his own autonomy. And that is why he despises Technoblade.

But wait, how is Technoblade a threat to Quackity's autonomy? Techno is all for individual freedom! He wants to eradicate the government so that no one can be controlled!

There's the question though... How do people exercise control within the framework of a video game like m/inec/raft?

“a person exercising power or control in a cruel, unreasonable, or arbitrary way.”

Power on the Dream SMP cannot be translated one-to-one with real  life power. In real life, yes, a government had infinitely more power than an individual, for numerous reasons. But on the Dream SMP, the government's power is always directly tied to the power of the individuals who are willing to defend that power.

Technoblade is powerful. This is not debatable. How he uses this power, historically, has been a mix of generosity and self-interest*, although primarily the latter.

Generously, He gains resources and then distributes them to his allies during the Pogtopia Rebellion, gearing everyone up and giving them a fighting chance against Dream. However, in the aftermath of Tubbo's being appointed president, Techno turns on them, swiftly and mercilessly. The moment that it becomes clear** that Pogtopia's interests don't align with his own, he crushes them with the aim to prevent them from ever recovering.

( *I use self-interest as a neutral term here. Everyone on the SMP is selfish to some extent – it doesn't make them evil, and in fact has been treated as a positive at times, as well as a negative.

**I want to note that whether or not Technoblade knew of Pogtopia's goal of reinstating the government is unclear. It would seem that from Techno's POV that he didn't know, or assumed that it was a minority who wanted another government. But on the other hand, no one was actively lying to him about their intent, and people like Tommy and Quackity made their goals very clear.  Further doubt is cast on the idea that Techno had no idea when you take into account that he enchanted the Netherite armor in the vault with worthless enchants like Fire Res.

Ultimately, there's no way to know until it is confirmed by cc!Techno himself, and it doesn't pertain that much to this analysis, but I'm aware that it's a hotly debated topic so I wanted to address it.)

It can be argued that Techno's destruction of L'manberg, both the first and especially the second time, was necessary. It can also be argued that it was cruel and a disproportionate retribution against both culpable and innocent parties. Extant of these arguments however, how does it feature into control?

Well, we can’t talk about control without mentioning the most controlling force on the server and the other person on Quackity's hitlist, Dream.

Dream is a tyrant. I don't think anyone can really make an argument against that in good faith at this point. He ticks off every box, no matter how vague or esoteric. This makes the interactions that Quackity and Techno have with him very interesting.

Quackity despises Dream. He's one of the earliest adopters of the hating-Dream-train, to the point that some people have compared him to Cassandra, a priestess who was cursed with the vision of prophecies that would always be true, but never believed. And indeed, Quackity's apprehension of Dream comes in as early as Pogtopia, and grows at a steady pace after the fact.

But despite his rightfully calling out Dream's hypocrisies and his controlling tendencies, Quackity was largely ignored on this front, especially when the time came to exile Tommy and Quackity basically predicted the next arc – If they gave Dream this concession, they would never be able to get out from under his thumb. Flash forwards to the Green Festival, and the moment Tubbo hands over the discs, any illusion of nicety drops and Dream proceeds to destroy them, side by side with...

Technoblade has always had an amiable relationship with Dream. From their first proper interaction on the server being Dream giving Techno some hefty resources, to their snap team-up on Doomsday, they've had a smooth time, with some notable bumps.

Techno fought against Dream during the Pogtopia rebellion, but when it became clear that Dream was more invested in chaos than his other allies, Techno temporarily allied with him to summon the Withers and drive the nail deeper into Manberg’s coffin.

The only time Techno has really bothered to challenge Dream directly is when he came for Tommy in exile. Techno went to great lengths to protect Tommy, hiding him and distracting Dream.

He did give Dream the option to call in his favor and take Tommy, but there are arguments to be made that he did this more as a challenge – that Tommy is worth the favor. Again, we probably wont ever know.

The difference in their relationships with Dream is polarizing. It also reflects the difference in personality – Quackity is an aggressive, ambitious person, whereas Techno leans more towards passivity and caution. Quackity is looking for enemies to challenge, where Techno is avoiding them, people who actually stand a chance against him most of all.

Technoblade is an individual with extraordinary amounts of power. Others have pointed out that he is rarely challenged by other characters or the narrative, and regardless of the merits or flaws in that, it paints him as nearly untouchable. His being in the good graces of Dream only adds to this.

And like with Dream, the only way that people have been able to threaten Techno is when they work together. The Butcher Army, for all it's flaws, managed to capture Techno through numbers – with Tubbo and Fundy (barely) holding off Techno's blood rage while Quackity snuck off to take Carl hostage. And they would have gotten away with it too, if the other most powerful person on the server hadn't stepped in – both by pointing Techno to a totem of undying in the days before the attack, and by getting Punz to cause a distraction and directing Techno to the final control room, where he could escape with Carl.

So, if the most powerful person in the world can only be threatened by people working together, and the most common form of organization is by government, then what does it say about Technoblade, who wants the government destroyed?

People like Tubbo, Fundy and yes, Quackity, all benefit from organizing and working together. They all tend to be less armed, less ready to defend themselves, and completely unable to stand up to titans like Techno and Dream on their own. It's safety in numbers, but it's also control, and control is power.

Ranboo's insistence that Snowchester is a Government is interesting when viewed through this lens. Ranboo is another person who is insanely rich, and able to defend himself and his belongings consistently. Ranboo doesn't need other people to defend him – he's living with Techno and Phil not out of necessity for his survival, but out of need for connection with others.

This seems to be the main difference he finds with Snowchester, which has a more structured environment, geared to defend itself and it's people, if harm should come their way.

Which makes sense, considering it's founder, Tubbo, holds no earthly belongings, and Jack, another prominent member, has made a character trait out of losing his things every other day. The two of them have no conceivable way to defend themselves against people who are stronger than they are. But together, holding the keys to nuclear armaments, they can suddenly play on the field of gods.

The anarchist commune, despite having all members working together and being on good terms, aren't really an organization, they're individuals with common goals and interests. They don't need to live together to be strong, they're all already strong, they choose to be near each other because they want to.

Snowchester is not a government and has no ruler, but together, it's members hold power. They have sway in the world when they work as a collective, and most members have a vested interest in keeping themselves and each other defended because of this. Consequently, the “identity” of Snowchester becomes more prominent, resulting in the flag, the uniforms and the, well, identity.

(Now, the more perceptive among you might have noticed that I basically just compared Techno Phil and Ranboo to the ultra rich 1%, which. Um. Is a pretty serious comparison to make about in a block game rp?

And I wanna say that I don’t think this was necessarily intentional on the parts of either the CCs or the characters, and beyond that, it’s just one way of examining the text. This analysis is by no means the “Right” way to view the story, just a different one.

Regardless...)

Techno uses his considerable power to further his own goals, first and foremost. This is not inherently good or evil, it just is.

Contrast with New L'manberg's cabinet; Four people, pooling their limited power to further their shared goals. Not good or evil, just a way of exercising power.

But power is not static. Power is fluid and changing, moreso now on the SMP than ever before, and Quackity and Technoblade are fighting to define what Power means going forwards.

Techno is fighting for the status quo, knowingly or not. Individuals with power should lead the world, and those without should strive to emulate their betters. He destroys all forms of government, which strip away the rights of the individual in exchange for hierarchy and consolidated power within that hierarchy.

At it's best, this is a very freeing ideology, where nothing and no one can hold back the individual. The world is your oyster if you are willing to work for it.

But at it's worst? “Violence is the only universal language,” is the key phrase. Where does this ideology leave people who aren't strong? Where does it leave those who cannot fend for themselves? If Violence is the only universal language, then the weak have no means to speak.

Quackity is fighting to get a foothold for a contrary ideology – One that prioritizes words over violence and offers alternative methods of gaining and exercising control, such as through currency and conversation. Quackity has tried to varying degrees of success to implement this on the level of his own individual power, such as during the elections, but his attempts at employing this on a grand scale have all been short-lived.

At it's best, this ideology can uplift anyone, regardless of their strength. It encourages more communication, more commerce, and thrives under, you guessed it, strong government.

At it's worst however, it creates a brutally controlling environment. Where a few people gain absurd amounts of power through the complex machinations of a fiat currency, and are then able to use their sway and influence with governing forces to exercise power that they would never be able to hold on their own.

Again, neither of these ideologies are inherently good or evil. They both have flaws and benefits, and benefit no one more than perhaps Techno and Quackity respectively, while hindering the other.

Techno is benefited by anarchy because he holds incredible amounts of individual power. He is the strongest person on the server, he is rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams, and on a meta level, he's straight up good at the game. The current status quo puts him firmly at the top of the food chain, and this is most obvious on Doomsday, when he and the other two most powerful individuals (Dream and Philza) come together and crush the combined forces of New L'manberg. They are not meaningfully challenged in any way, whatsoever.

Meanwhile, Quackity is deeply hindered by the current status quo. He's not strong, he's poor, and he's vulnerable to anyone who wants to bully him with brute force. On a meta level, cc!Quackity just straight up does not play m/inecraf/t as much as some of the other people that on the server. (To be clear, I do not mention that as a criticism, just to contrast Techno. Neither of their levels of play are better or worse for content, they just add to the experience differently.)

On the other hand, in a government? Quackity “Law Student” HQ is suddenly on top. He's charismatic enough to debate with Wilbur “Can Talk His Way out of Anything” Soot during the elections, and come out of that arena smelling like roses. Back during the days of El Rapids, Quackity held his men back from conflict with Dream, and talked him into a corner of technical truths where Dream had to concede that he viewed El Rapids as an independent nation if he wanted to get involved with their conflicts.

And Techno, while he is brilliant and an English Major, suddenly loses a lot of his intimidation factor if he has to respect laws preventing brutal murder. Techno can certainly debate, but his go to conflict resolution is usually violence, and if you take that away, you take away the threat of challenging him. Because make no mistake, challenging Technoblade right now? Is suicide.

And this duality, this grey morality and clash of ideals, is why Quackity is my favorite character on the SMP. He isn't strong. The power he holds is tenuous and balanced on a knife's edge. It would make more sense for him to stay quiet, keep his head down, and if anything, try to change things from the shadows, where he'll be in the least danger.

But he isn't quiet. He doesn't just challenge authority, he challenges the authority; Dream, Wilbur, and of course, Technoblade.

And in all but one of those matches, he's come out with a concession from his enemy gripped between his teeth. He schooled Wilbur in the debates. He forced Dream to grant El Rapids Independence at a time when he hadn't done so for New L'manberg.

But he failed miserably when he challenged Technoblade. Quackity lost that fight in the final control room before it began. He lost the moment he formed the Butcher Army. He would have lost if he managed to kill Technoblade, and he lost still when he died.

He lost because he conceded that the only way to achieve his goal was through violence. He decided that the only way to establish himself and New L'manberg as powerful? Was to kill Technoblade. And he lost that fight and he always will. There was never a way that he walked out of that fight with the victory; Quackity lost the ideological battle long ago.

But not the war.

As of writing this, Quackity is in the process of introducing an economy to the Dream SMP, on Sam's initiative. There is no action I can think of that is wiser for him to take right now. Now, when Dream has been deposed and there's a vacuum in power; Now, when people are getting tired of endless violence and the loss it brings; Now, when people are looking for something new.

An economy is a direct challenge to Might Makes Right. Trading, supply and demand, politics. It offers a new way for people to obtain resources and a direct alternative to brute force; other methods to pay for slights and breaches of honor and etiquette. No more will pet wars be fought with iron swords and shields, but with money! A healthy sum of cash for the murder of Fungi!

If Quackity can get this system off the ground (and with Sam's help, he definitely can,) the stage would suddenly be tilted in the favor of not just Quackity, but the people who he has associated himself with most closely – Tommy, Fundy, even Schlatt. They're all business men, all scammers. This could be Quackity's world, and he's damn well intending for everyone to live in it.

We’ll have to see what Techno thinks of this - Quackity hasn’t made any moves to start another government, and an economy doesn’t inherently contradict anarchy. But it does hold a potential threat to Techno’s current power.

And as for Quackity? What will he do once he’s at the top? Will he finally become a true tyrant? Will he usher in a new age of equality and justice? Or will he eschew all of that in favor of personal riches. For once, the cards are in Quackity's favor, and we might get the chance to see what he does when he holds real power.

#Dream SMP #Quackity #Technoblade #Ranboo #Dreamwastaken #Dream SMP analysis #lazytext #long post #its done its done i did it its done #ive been working on this for THREE WEEKS #THREE WEEKS OF CHECKING VODS AND WIKIS AND AAAAAAAAAAAAA #If theres typos I DONT CARE #I LIVE MY LIFE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

[slytherinnbitch]

Day 26: Accident

when harry woke up in a hospital bed for the millionth time, his first thought was hermione is going to kill me. and it was true because hermione had threatened to do exactly that if he landed himself in the hospital yet again. 

but when he finally opened his eyes, there’s no red or bushy brown hair in sight. just the pale blond one which belonged to the prat he hated the most. Draco Fucking Malfoy. and for some reason he looked relieved to see Harry. that couldn’t possibly be right. because draco hated harry with passion and he would have been happy if he died-

“Merlin, Harry, gave me a right scare. can’t you play one game without getting injured or is that too fucking much for you?” draco asked, and while the words and the tone of his voice were in perfect contradiction; one thing was clear. Malfoy was concerned about Harry. but that was something he would focus upon on some another moment when his mind wasn’t full of some half a billion questions. starting with what in merlin’s name was malfoy doing here?

“Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here? he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. and because he couldn’t help himself he asked the other question which was burning a hole in his brain, “what game are you talking about?”

as far as harry was concerned, he had last played in hogwarts, although he did still participate in some of the impromptu Weasley weekly sunday matches but he doesn’t think Draco knew about that. harry’s words seemed to stop malfoy in his tracks. he frowned at harry, then he stared into his eyes for a long time before harry looked away. 

“uhm, okay. Ha-Potter, could you tell me what year this is?” malfoy asked, did he really think harry to be so dumbheaded that he would forget the year. 

“malfoy, do you really be asking me that? don’t you have better work to do? or did your small brain forget the date?” harry scoffed. malfoy was undetered, he asked harry the same question again, as if he hadn’t even heard harry’s words.

“ugh, you’re so annoying. its January 2001, unless i was unconsious for more than two weeks, then it would be february 2001.” harry replied, and the fuck was he alone? that too with malfoy to keep him company. he was about to ask just that when malfoy said-

“i’ll contact hermione and ron. just- sit here and try not to break anything or get out of bed.”

“and who would you be to comand me that?” harry challenged, like seriously what right did the poncy git have?

“as your appointed healer, if nothing else.” malfoy replied before leaving his private hospital room. 

.

"okay so it's 2011 and I have somehow forgotten ten years of my life. So what's up with me right now then? Senior Auror? Please don't tell me I went for Minister!" Harry tried to joke, it wouldn't do good to panic now afterall. "and however did I end up here? Malfoy mentioned something of a game?"

Ron and Hermione share a look. Harry always hated when they did that, especially after they got together.

"and why did you both allow Malfoy to be my healer? What were you both even thinking?" he added because he can't help but feel slightly betrayed by his friends. Malfoy entered at that exact moment, nosy git that he is, can't let people have some privacy.

"so does he know then? Doesn't look like it," Malfoy claimed, and Harry wanted to strangle him because he was aware that the he was him.

"harry was just asking about his job, and ... other prospects of life." Ron said, looking back and forth between Harry and Malfoy.

"well, I would be going really blunt now because reg would be wanting answers soon." Malfoy motioned his hands around as if whatever he said made sense and who was this reg person even?

even if Malfoy had appeared confident just a moment ago, he took a deep breath before he started, looking determinant, "you're a professional quidditch player. You resigned from the aurors about nine years ago and have been persued by various teams, and have changed teams twice. You now are the main seeker for Puddlemere United. You got hit pretty hard by a bulger before losing consciousness. And then here we are two days later. Does that answer your questions?" Malfoy asked calmy, it's a lot to take in. Well, Harry never fancied being a Auror all that much after defeating that noseless bastard so it's a good decision on his part. He wondered how he came to the decision.

But more importantly, he still had plenty questions let, "who are you? I know your name, malfoy. I am curious to your status in my life." Harry asked and by the look on Hermione and Ron's face and pain reflecting on Malfoy's, he wondered what was so wrong about it.

"Harry, I must have forgotten to tell you. I'm the Minister now. And Ron became head auror just six months back! don't you think that's incredible?" Hermione asked but Harry knew when a topic was being changed pretty well.

"it's no use stopping the inevitable, Mione. He would know eventually and I rather face it myself firsthand. Would be the best route for my heart, you know?" Malfoy said sadly. As if he had something to be sad about, Harry scoffed mentally at that. And what ths fuck? Mione? Not only was Malfoy on first name basis but he also called his best friend by their nicknames? What had the world turned to?

"We are married, Potter. And no, I haven't used any illegal or inauthentic means to achieve it. We have been together for the almost nine years now. And married for the past six." Malfoy said in one breath and what the actual motherfucking fuck?

"Yeah, right. So what's the real shit?" Harry snorted because malfoy might have a humor but this was so fucking far from the truth that it was downright ridiculous.

"Draco is telling the truth, Harry. You both are married." Ron said, and are these people alright? Harry was getting worried.

"what did he do to the two of you as well? What kind of potion did you use? Or is it a spell? Tell me, Malfoy. How have you been doing it for what did you say? Nine years, yeah?" Harry sneered. Malfoy's face shattered, as it should. He had been caught afterall.

"Draco..." Hermione started but Malfoy quickly put up his hand.

"I can't, not right now. It's fine, Mione. Don't worry about me." Malfoy said with a broken voice. Harry had never seen Malfoy showing this kind of emotion publicly before, but Harry didn't care.

"oh, and if we are actually married. I would like a divorce, immediately if possible. You can take whatever you want from my vaults if you want, if money is what you have been after. Reckon you wouldn't need much, what with your family fortune but I guess some people are never satisfied." Harry taunted because that's what he knew best, even if Malfoy looked like he was on the verge of crying.

"are you sure you want that? You won't regret it when you get your memories back?" Malfoy asked slowly.

"oh, absolutely. I think my actual self would be actually thankful. And please do this as soon as possible." Harry requested, although his tone showed anything but.

"very well, Potter. If that's what you wish for, then that's what you get. Don't say I didn't warn you," Malfoy said one last time. Harry just snorted at that.

Ron looked torn between shocked and upset and Hermione was actually crying. She started protesting but Draco just shook his head and smiled at her.

"I always knew this dream would break, mione. I'll be fine. I have reg." Draco sighed before he came to stnd directly infront of Harry.

"break the bonds then, the certificate would already be produced after we do that. I'll contact the advocate right after." Draco put forward his hand and Harry hesitated for a bit before putting their hands together. The touch was familiar, the skin soft and tender. Harry didn't even dwell on that for more than a second.

Malfoy spoke a foreign language, although Harry did catch a few Latin words in there as well. He didn't really care, but when Malfoy finally extracted his hand. Harry gasped loudly, his heart felt lighter and there was a whole comfortable weight on his shoulders that was gone. He didn't like that feeling even one bit.

Malfoy silently wiped the tears in his eyes, as if that was insignificant. He stared at Harry for a long time, to the point that Harry started feeling uncomfortable.

"well, goodbye Potter." Draco said atlast and Harry just lifted an eyebrow and sneered at him. He gave a sad smile to Harry's bestfriends as well. Then, malfoy actually hugged both of them, together.

When they pulled apart, he said, "don't worry, you both. He is not my Harry anyway. I'll be fine." Malfoy didn't look fine and even Harry could tell that.

"what about reg?" Hermione asked. Seriously, who was this reg?

"I'll be taking him with me. Or since ha-potter is the one who is leaving. Reg would be staying with me."

Draco then smiled, Harry didn't like that look one bit, he looked at Harry through his red eyes and said, "i must have forgotten to mention but I'll make sure Regulus stays with me. What with you being unable to even remember him. I'm sure I would have no problem at all. And don't even try otherwise. Consequences would be deadly." Harry shivered at the words but still, didn't understand who Regulus was. The only Regulus he knew was Sirius's brother and he was long dead.

"Potter, Regulus is, Regulus Malfoy-Potter is our son. Or I should say my son." malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "and don't even try contacting him by anymeans before- no even after you have gained your memory back. Because trust me it will, and it won't be pretty. I don't want my child to go through anything that would cause him trauma, and trust me when your own dad can't remember you, that's going to fuck up anyone's mind real bad, especially for a one and half year old." Malfoy spat out.

Harry could still hear some words ringing in his mind. Child? He had a child? He was a dad? He had to-

"Your rings, Potter." Malfoy out forward his hand, Harry frowned at it.

Malfoy finally gestured at his left hand and he say it, a solid but thin band of gold with small diamonds encrusted. It looked perfect. Just what Harry would have wanted for himself. Did he choose the ring himself then? Not detered, he slid the ring out of his finger. It was with some struggle but it came out atlast. But malfoy was still standing with his hand open.

"what now?" Harry asked, irritatedly.

"the family ring." Malfoy coldly stated. Oh, he then noticed the Malfoy family ring on his tiny finger of his right hand. He practically threw that into Malfoy's hands. Who wanted to be even near that thing?

Malfoy's hand pulled into a tight fist and Harry noticed that he still had a wedding band. So of course, Harry asked, "what about the ones you are wearing?"

"what about them?" Malfoy inquired and Hermione asked at the same time Hermione cried out, "harry, can you please not?"

Harry ignored her and lifted his eyebrows at malfoy again, "well if you take away the ones I had. It's only fair, I get those back."

Malfoy's eyes flashed angrily before the icy facade was back on, "i didn't want dissolve the marriage. I have no obligation to return the rings. And even if I did, I won't. My Harry gave them to me afterall." Malfoy said coldly, but his voice broke at the end.

"and the child-"

"nothing of it. Regulus is my son and he'll be known as such from now on. I would like to see you try otherwise." Malfoy basically growled. Then he gave one mock salute to Harry and turned his back to them and strode out of the room.

The three of them sat in silence for thirty more seconds before Hermione got up, mumbled something about Draco and left the room hurriedly. Ron took off soon after.

He patted Harry on his shoulder and said, "mate that wasn't good. You're going to regret it." Ron had said it with such conviction that it had Harry frowning for several minutes.

In the empty hospital room, with no one but himself to provide company, he felt a strange sensation of dread creep up. He looked down on his ring finger and the slightly lighter skin tone seemed to taunt him.

Harry felt extremely lost, again.

Day 25: Battle || Day 27: Babysitting

Part 2

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