#i did a lot of copy-pasting lmao sorry

[toastsnaffler]

Would love to hear ur thoughts on Hades game sometime because I too loved but had beef with the game and I think we are the same ….

yessss, disclaimer I haven't played it for like 3 years and I only played 10 hours/got to the end once before I dropped it so i might be misremembering some things but I stick by my opinions! under the cut cuz this is long as fuck 🫣 my haterism has no limits

ok so basically my grievances w hades can be split into 2 main areas: gameplay + narrative, I'll break them down in that order.

firstly gameplay - roguelikes/lites are my fave genre so I was predominantly approaching hades from this angle + its failure here is the clincher for me.

I found the gameplay repetitive and stale. this isnt a criticism of its permadeath like ive seen some ppl make - I usually relish repetition/grind especially in permadeath-based games bc I find tactical challenge fun + love the learning curve, its soooo rewarding. but hades is ultimately just a glorified button masher. mob/boss movesets are boring + unoriginal, and can generally all be fought the same way. trying to do otherwise drags out fights; it actively discourages emergent gameplay so theres little variance WITHIN runs. the pool of rooms for procedural generation is far too small so theres little variance BETWEEN runs. there's no real challenge to combat, difficulty is mainly increased by heightened mob tankiness as you get further in a run. movement/combat doesn't flow well, its mechanically very weak, relying heavily on its permanent upgrade system instead of developing skill in the way you approach the game. all the weapons feel clunky and don't really offer any unique challenge/benefit so theres virtually no point switching between them and the grind to unlock them all is so pointless… god there are just SOOO many hack n slash crawlers that keep it fresh even for hundreds of hours and hades fails miserably at keeping it fresh for even 5 measly hours :^/

I didnt like the boon system either - its far too simplistic + shallow. its fine to rely on chance, this is part of the random generation, and I think it had a lot of potential in that it was a good way of combining aesthetic w gameplay itself. but this is pretty much the only form of resource management - and theres barely any management to it! theres no reward for exploring different builds, they dont really synergise BETWEEN gods in interesting or useful ways, so the game encourages you to just stick with one god throughout, and biases random generation towards boons youve already collected. part of the fun for me is learning HOW to design a build, and working with the randomiser to play flexibly, but hades just isnt interested in that at all...

also - I don't like the permanent upgrade system, I think this detracts from it as a rogue. every time you should be starting on square 1 - maybe you pick up health upgrades etc throughout each run, and maybe you unlock new weapons etc for the random generation pool, or purely cosmetic upgrades, but the point of permadeath is that it RESETS! zags base health + dmg should be the same 50 hours into the game as when u first open it. make a different genre of game if u dont wanna do that lol. I also think IF youre going to say fuck it and add a permanent upgrade system, you should also add unlockable permanent biome shortcuts bc ur just making it boring as fuck to have to waste time grinding thru earlier biomes with unskippable combat once youre op for them.

I GET that they did this to make the game more accessible* to players who dont typically enjoy rogues, but it just makes it really disappointing for those of us who DO love rogues, and it always feels cheap to me when games are like "well of you want challenge then set the difficulty yourself with these modifiers 🙄" like just make the base difficulty TOUGH up front and then add an easy/story mode and accessibility features* for players who don't want the challenge.. if you're gonna call yourself a rogue the gameplay should be the PRIORITY not a throwaway option

one of my biggest peeves with hades is how people now laud it as one of the best rogues - whenever I mention I like the genre I almost always get asked "oh, like hades?" and it pisses me off so much… its a rogueLITE not roguelike, ie. it has rogue ELEMENTS but its not a true one and imo, it does a pretty shit job implementing them! I would have a lot less resentment towards it if it wasnt marketed as the forefront of the rogue genre - frankly its a very basic rogue with very mid gameplay, its characters/design are by FAR its strong point and it should be sold as such. its misleading and makes me sad that this is what most people think of when they hear rogue :-(

*(side note - accessibility in this game is another major flaw. theres really no excuse for a game as popular as this to be so lacking in accessibility options. allow people to bind keys together or use coloured outlines or have colourblindness settings or alter font/text size etc - its not that hard! dead cells did a great job of this lol)

anyway... moving onto my second criticism - narratively, its also unsatisfying.

the hades plot is, loosely, about a cycle of abuse, so the 2 natural directions to go in with this are either: #1: escaping the cycle, or #2: continuing it forever.

#2 is the easiest to do with a rogue format - bc of permadeath the game is already cyclical, so all you have to do is create an ending which loops perfectly back to the start (smth like 'its impossible to truly defeat/reconcile with his father so even after zag beats him, hades drags him back to the start again). obviously this is a miserable story to tell, but tbh I think it wouldve been interesting + fitting - so much of greek mythos is about cycles and the unchanging nature of the gods, and they LOVED eternal cyclical punishments. plus theres smth rly tragic about zag gradually helping everyone else while no one else can save him from his family LOL

#1 is a bit harder to do - this is the story they WANTED to tell but I just don't think it worked… the driving force plot-wise is his desperation to escape. realistically for this to happen the game needs to be finite, which it can't be due to its rogue nature - somehow you have to end up at the very start again. the main solutions I can think of for this are:

a) after the final boss, insert some time travel shenanigans (easy to fit into the worldbuilding using a character like kronos) and all of zags progress with hades is unspooled. this can be completely out of his control, or it could be a choice the player makes (to end the game here or choose to go back and relive zags past in order to progress npc questlines). eg. what happens in dead cells. again, tragic but it makes more sense to me

-or b) bite the bullet and give the game a completely finite ending after beating hades. if players want to go back and play more to complete other npc questlines, they pick up play from before they beat hades. this isnt explained "narratively" bc the plot is already concluded and now theyre just playing for fun (eg. what going under does)

I also think for a character-focused story-rich game, roguelite was a really terrible choice of genre as it locks every interaction behind pure chance and hours of grinding - just really baffling why they decided to do this, especially when theyve had such success previously making games within different genres (transistor, bastion, pyre). the core of the issue for me is that the devs wanted to create a game that was both story rich AND a rogue - and these things arent mutually exclusive, but the best features of each contradict each other when you try to balance them in a way to appease their respective fans (ie. the challenge/complexity of the gameplay is heavily restricted by keeping it easy for ppl unfamiliar with rogues to pick up, but the strength of the narrative arc is simultaneously weakened by the fact that as a rogue it has to be perpetual bc of permadeath + you're working with procedural generation…)

I'm not going to beef with the artstyle or music bc I rly loved them both (even if I wish the body diversity was better!), or with the interpretations of greek gods bc literally every piece of media abt greek mythos has to decide how to interpret them and I think its silly to be like "this isnt CANON" - since we actually dont HAVE a strict "canon" for many of these stories bc theyve been retold/translated in so many conflicting ways lol. I've just heard ppl complaining abt that and I dont think its worth complaining about 🤷‍♀️

ANYWAY tl;dr: hades should've been an action-heavy isometric metroidvania… it wouldve made it far easier to focus on character questlines (ie. with respawn points + a fixed map), unified the story they wanted to tell with the gameplay SO much more effectively, and allowed them to reach the full potential of both, whilst also playing up to supergiant's previous game-making strengths. but thats my 2 cents!

#SORRY THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG I JUST HAVE A LOT TO SAYYYY #also sorry for the weird formatting i typed this out in my phone notes and copy pasted into tumblr sjkdjf. hope it makes sense #just really frustrating to me that it ended up how it did bc it couldve been soooo good if it was good. but it wasn't 💔 #whats even more frustrating is that hades 2 doesnt look like its gonna improve on any of this lmao. sad well theres other games! #hades #.asks #.diaries

[heartbrake-hotel]

Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

#blurb #ask #goddamn will they EVER let each other finish a sentence.??? #sorry dialogue is Not my forte 🙈 im a prose kinda girlie hardcore #also yahhhh i just kind of . totally abandoned the ending to cater to my h/c fantasies. sorry not sorry 😎 #halfway thru the second block of bullets i realized the hc format was completely pointless and i had basically written a full fic #on the other hand im nothing if not a stubborn bitch so.. not changing the formatting now.! #if u think about this too hard u start to see a lot of plot holes #or at least further questions about the specificities of vamp lore in this au #to that i would recommend u pls ignore them 🥰 #GODDD i started writing this directly in the ask. like a fucking FOOL #knowing FULL WELL how this stupid post editor not only eats ask drafts for breakfast and spits out their bones #but ALSO that the even STUPIDER copy/paste restrictions would hit #since theres a character block limit separate from the character POST limit 🙄 #so ive had this tab open for almost a week and have just been walking on eggshells around my laptop praying to not lose it dfghj #MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF TO POST IT TBH #also smitty ive got a sidenote for u as well but its gonna go on main lmao. one sec #oh god............ just realized i did the ff.net thing with the in-text ANs 😳😳 #pOST CANCELLED; EVERYBODY GO HOME

[tayytayy12]

I hate it here (a lot less when I’m with you) | OP81 x Reader

Summary - Reader just got out of a mildly toxic relationship and released a song about what her coping mechanism was during that time, but when her new relationship gets leaked by the paparazzi, she decides to show off her new favourite person.

Warnings | Mentions of a past toxic relationship/ breakup, swearing

FaceClaim | Gracie Abrams

Requested | Yes - No

Type | SMAU

Yourusername

Liked by | AaronDessner, PheobeBridgers and 2,987,425 others

Tagged | @/AaronDessner

Yourusername | Long Pond Studios has always been a place where I’ve let my emotions and feelings guide my songwriting completely, every song that I’ve written and recorded in this place has been a complete raw reflection of my feelings, and I’m forever grateful that I can trust you enough to share them all with you without the slightest moment of hesitation. That’s why, I’m surprise releasing my brand new song, ‘I hate it here’ now. This song is about a method I’ve used to cope for the past few years of my life when I wasn’t in the best situation, and I hope that it will help any of you who are or were in the same situation I was. This song was made with my soulmate of a collaborator, chosen friend, found family of mine, Aaron and were so incredibly proud of it and we can’t wait for you to hear it. Sorry for being away for so long, I love you 🤍

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User1 - OMFG SHES ALIVE !!!

User2 - ONLY TOOK FIVE MONTHS TO CONFIRM YOU’RE ALIVE AND BREATHING

AaronDessner - My favourite one together so far 🤍

Yourusername - Love you forever 🤍

User3 - WTFDYM ‘I HATE IT HERE’ EXPLAIN?

User4 - GO LISTEN TO IT ITS SOOOOOOOOOO GOOD

User5 - A SURPRISE DROP? WE’RE SPOILED

User6 - When Aarons a co-writer AND the producer, you know for a fact the song will change your life (and make the therapy bill triple)

Liked by author

User7 - Girl don’t apologise

User8 - FR like she gets cheated on, takes a brake and then apologises to us 😭 like girl it’s okay

JackAntanoff - *Alexa play Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo*

Yourusername- Your times coming synth man 🤫 LOVE YOU STILL

User9 - WDYM HIS TIME IS COMING YOU CRYPTIC WOMAN

User10 - “I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind.” That’s all I have to say.

User11 - Y/n could write Romeo and Juliet but Shakespeare couldn’t write I hate it here

User11 - “I place you need a key to get to, the only one is mine” girly I hope someone makes you want to make a copy one day

Yourusername - God I love you lmao

User11 - OMFG Y/n loves me I can die happy

User12 - “tell me something awful, like you are a poet.” BC HE ALWAYS PAINTED HER BLUE SKYS THE DARKEST GREY, RUINING HER DAY BY TELLING HER AWFUL SHIT LIKE HES A TORTURED POET !!!!!! (I knew Coney Island wasn’t fictional you fucking delusional people, no one in a happy relationship writes that shit 💕💕💕)

User13 - “This man made me feel worthless.” Y/EX/N ISTG WHEN I FIND YOU. COUNT UR MINUTES

User14 - “I'm lonely but I'm good, I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine” bitch where did you find my diary

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Yourusername

Liked by, SabrinaCarpenter, OscarPiastri and 2,191,910 others

Tagged | @/SabrinaCarpenter

Yourusername - I’m sorry who’s this woman debuting at no.1 on the billboard hot one hundred? My god it is me, I can’t believe this, I love you I love you I love you thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart, I mean it, I really do. MY GOD I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. (And my baby with her first top ten entry, I love you Sabby, Go stream espresso, it is that sweet 🤍💕) OKAY ONE LAST THANK YOU. 💕🤍💕🤍💕

Okay I lied but being among names like Beyoncé, Ariana Grande, SZA and Kendrick Lamar is one of the biggest honours ever, I’m huge fans of them all and to be in the same space as them is an honour no words can express, I love you all, the most caring sweet fans on the whole planet 💕💕💕💕

(And yes, it was a reference to a physical key, this is it)

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User14 - We made the right one famous guys

User15 - I’m actually crying, when did she stop being our little secret

SabrinaCarpenter - My biggest fan 🩷

Yourusername - Your biggest fan 🩷

User16 - Oscar in the likes for what?

User17 - Who?

User18 - Oscar Piastri, he’s a 23 yr old f1 driver

User19 - What is vroom vroom boy doing here

AaronDessner - Truly blessed to work with you

Yourusername - I’m the blessed one don’t even

User20 - Only y/n could send a five minute long, slow, alt pop song with a main piano background, basically a depressing lullaby bop, to number one above all these TikTok songs

User21 - She’s actually adorable

OscarPiastri - Been on repeat!

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User22 - UM HELLO WHAT ARE U DOING HERE LITTLE ORANGE MAN?

User23 - This is all bc of me btw

Celebrity.updates

Liked by, user24, and 82,828 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername @/OscarPiastri

Celebrity.updates - NEW COUPLE!!! Fast upcoming pop star, Y/n Y/l/n (21) seen out late at night on the streets of London with Formula one driver, Oscar Piastri (23), according to the source of these pictures the two were laughing and running around the streets together, when Oscar caught up to her and hugged her to him and kissed her. Rumours say that Y/n met Piastri through her ex partner who’s an engineer for f1 team Alpine, the pair seem to be quite smitten and loving with each other. What’s your thoughts on this?

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User25 - WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN

User26 - Posting these photos is bad enough, but tagging them in it is crazy

User28 - Neither of them have even been hinting at a relationship at all, they clearly didn’t want anyone to know yet

User29 - Can’t these sickos just let them live, they’re people too

User30 - Whoever took these is messed up

User31 - They do look rlly happy together though

User32 - The fact that her ex is an alpine engineer makes this situation so much more funny and interesting

SabrinaCarpenter - You’re actually disgusting

User33 - TELL THEM SAB

User34 - The fact that she’s not even wrong

User35 - the fact that she defends Y/n with no hesitation

User36 - The friendship we all need in our lives

Yourusername

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Tagged | @/OscarPiastri

Yourusername - I hate it here a lot less when I’m with you 🤍 my favourite polite cat xxxx

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LandoNorris- Finally. The pair of you at the paddock hiding in MY divers room bc you were scared someone would see you in Oscar’s. Sigh.

Yourusername - You love me

User37 - OH MY GOD

User38 - I need to know the bears name

OscarPiastri- She named him Gerald

Yourusername - Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s our son

OscarPiastri - Sorry baby

User39 - Hysterical

OscarPiastri - My favourite smiling dog 🤍

Yourusername- Excuse me did you just call me a bitch

OscarPiastri- NO I DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT

User40 - The dynamic is already everything to me

User41 - Even his GF knows he’s a polite cat

Yourusername - He so is (he’s in denial)

User42 -“ I hate it here a lot less with you” Shut the fuck up

OscarPiastri

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OscarPiastri - She made me a copy 🗝️🤍

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User43 - Someone sedate me

User44 - SHE. MADE. HIM. A. COPY.

User45 - WTFFFTTFTFTD

User46 - Literally the ultimate Oscar on Alpine revenge

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Yourusername - I don’t need my secret gardens, or my lunar valleys anymore, because I have you 🤍

OscarPiastri- My favourite and only girl 🤍

User47 - I’m taking a nap on the highway

///////

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #op81 fic #op81 x you #op81 angst #op81 smau #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x female driver #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #ln4 one shot #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fluff

[genericpuff]

Hey so I saw the newest free episode and wtf is this.

A copy / paste of this:

I've been seeing people say that Hera's FG design is good but ... I'm sorry, maybe I'm just jaded, but I just don't see it? There's no glow, no visual oomf, it's just giant naked titty lady but now covered in black body paint and some ambiguous constellations. For a goddess who's typically affiliated with peacocks, her FG design is very... bland. And if Rachel really wanted to make her affiliated with starlight and show it as such, she could have pushed it a lot further so she doesn't just look like a caution sign covered in dandruff :/

Fuck it, here's an edit to get across what I mean-

(been a while since I've done a glow edit, damn lmao)

It's a bit busy on the eyes the way I did it but I hope it gets across what I mean that a little more could have been done with it to give it that starry look beyond just slapping white dots on a black/dark body. These are supposed to be all-powerful gods, make them look the part, dangit.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

the abandonment issues au,,

where Sun and Moon gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss their way into ur heart

and then turn into sad wet baby kittens when u find out and call them out on it <3

(copy and pasted from the space aces discord, sorry fellas lmao)

abandonment issues au:

ok what if. fucked up au time

where. reader is the new daycare assistant or a mechanic or smthn idk theyre working withh Sun and Moon thats the important part

i think it works better if theyre like, Sun n Moon's handler? Bc they r closer that way and it makes it more fucked up lmaooooo

so basically. this takes place right after Sun n Moon had their best friend-handler person leave bc Sun n Moon had been acting increasingly volatile n buggy n rlly just having issues but the more the previous handler tried to talk to them abt it and fix it the more they got anxious abt getting decommissioned and would cover up the problems n act like nothing was wrong

and eventually one day the previous handler nearly got rlly hurt and knew they had to leave bc it wasn't safe for them and they left a detailed warning/report for the mechanics

(and they didnt say goodbye, not out of malice or anything just bc they didnt want even more reasons for Sun n Moon to act up/potentially hurt them or themselves)

so. the mechanics did a total clean up of Sun n Moon's system, basically left their memories but scrubbed their data of a lot of the 'feelings' they'd had- mostly wiping away the feelings tied to 'good' memories, and the only thing Sun n Moon could do to fill in the void of 'feelings' was assign different feelings in their place, so when they once looked back and felt happy or nostalgic, now they feel confused and angry and sad and betrayed bc why was all of that happiness taken from them?? why did their handler hurt them like this??

so the scrubbing of their systems, which was one thing they really really didn't want to have done for fear of losing their memories entirely, DID work in putting their issues on a much lower level,, but it didn't get rid of the issues entirely. Now they're just,, easier to hide or play off or ignore. They're careful around the kids, of course, but they do at times have trouble with their motor controls or their speech will glitch slightly, etc

a few handlers come and go, never staying for more than a week or so- none of them really care about the job, don't see Sun n Moon as coworkers but more like fancy 'machines' with no real thoughts or emotions, they normally leave after Sun or Moon has a glitchy moment and nearly hurts them or, in at least one case, does hurt them by squeezing their wrist too hard. more often than not, the ppl applying for the position read the list of warnings n cautions and are like 'hell nahh' and bail immediately

then. in comes,, reader. local dumbass. most endearing of idiots. a bit dense. very much clueless. dearly beloved

you're the first one to really treat them like your coworkers, making small talk and being friendly and kind and patient and laughing at their jokes. you smile when you introduce yourself, offering your hand for them to shake- not afraid of them or their little twitches at all. god, how they missed that. you remind them of their previous handler, if only in how you see them like theyre people and not machines.

and they make a mutual agreement to do whatever they can to keep you as their handler. even if it means dodging around company rules and policies by doing something like crumpling up the confidential 'warning' forms, ortelling the occasional white lie, like forging your signature onto the papers when your back is turned and making sure it makes it to your manager without either of you noticing who exactly was putting it on their desk.

you've already started calling them your friends the first time they have a glitchy moment. you're doing detailing work on their endoskeleton, really just cleaning dust away and making sure everything looks the way it does in the manual, when they break something- a tablet, a pen, your phone, whatever it is, it happens in an instant and startles you.

when Sun n Moon come to and realize whats happened theyre terrified. what if you use this as some kind of excuse to leave? What if you abandon them, just like their previous handler did? What if you start treating them differently, or you tell the staff that they need to be scrapped

so when you ask what that was about, they're frantic, quick to come up with something, anything that might make you shrug and forget all about it,

"Well, you WERE just working on their insides, right? That must have been something YOU did to suddenly make us do something like THAT! There's no way else it could have happened. Right?"

You take the lie hook, line, and sinker, apologizing profusely, promising to try harder to make sure nothing like that happens again. The relief they feel is almost euphoric. They pat you on the head kindly, reassuring you that they know you didn't do it on purpose, it was just a little mess up! You're fine, friend, we forgive you.

From then on, they dodge blame and truth alike, most often redirecting your attention to something you must have said or done to make something so strange and out of character for them happen so suddenly, and you believe them, full of apologies and careful words and actions and nervous worrying about doing things wrong and hurting them somehow. It's cute, how anxious you can get. It's cuter, how you melt for their comfort and reassurance. 

They play the song and dance with you again and again, weaving doubt and guilt into you more and more frequently. Until one day, you mumble something about how 'maybe i'm not cut out for this, maybe i should switch to be on the janitorial team instead, or some other department, i don't want to hurt you guys, or-or be the reason someone else gets hurt, i clearly dont know what im doing, and it's only gotten worse, maybe i should talk to my manager,,' and they panic

don't be silly, friend!!!! you can't just leave like that, what about the kids, what about that puppet show you had helped them plan, did you really want to just abandon all that?? so what if maybe they had the occasional hiccup, you were always there to smooth it over, who cared whether they dropped things from time to time, or- or broke a toy or two, that didn't matter, did it??? You were getting so good at being their handler, your little mistakes were normal, come on, you don't want to leave your very best friends. Do you?

and you cave, agreeing to stay, and they are so, so extremely careful to hide their little moments from you for several weeks, making sure you don't notice their tiny twitches or split seconds of glitchy voices, maybe keeping a closer eye on you than would be comfortable, watching over your shoulder each time you type up a report about the day, giving the manager a loathsome glower behind your back whenever they happen by,, and every time you leave you say 'i'll see you guys tomorrow!,' they grab onto your sleeve and respond with 'promise?' so you always know that they really, really do want you to come back

and then. one day,, you decide to go looking in their files for something small and silly, like what kinds of updates had been added to their pick-up protocols, and you find the warnings and cautions forms

and you see your signature on them, but you would definitely remember this and you are absolutely certain you have never seen these papers in your life. and you take the papers and you go to ask them about it.

"i thought you said you never had any problems before? you told me you never had any issues before but this- this is full of things that you- and you, you've been having these problems for that long??"

they stumble over their words, frantic, panicked, backpedaling on everything theyve ever said, trying meekly to grab the papers from your hands, piling excuses on excuses 

"you knew? you knew you were having these problems, and you didn't tell me? and you- you told me it was my fault!"

you're close to tears, hurt that they lied more than anything. you keep backing away from them, dodging their attempts to get the forms. they don't know which is worse- seeing that look on your face, or when they were left without so much as a goodbye.

"you could have told me. i thought i was the reason for everything, i thought i was hurting you, and you just... you lied right to my face and let me think that."

theyre putting on their best soothing voice, movements slow and gentle, wanting to comfort you and wipe those tears away and reassure you somehow that this- this isn't their fault, none of it is, it never was, they're fine and you're fine and nothing was ever wrong, and everything will be fine if only you calm down and stay

you can tell they arent really listening. you take a deep breath and turn away from them, scraping the tears from your face. you tell them you're going to go home and write up a report about all of this and when you come back you can go over it together before you send it to management, but right now you're leaving because you need space to breathe and time to think

but all they hear is that you're leaving, and they panic.

they don't hurt you, of course! but right now you're not allowed to leave.

you try to shut out the sound of them crying and apologizing and begging, even if it breaks your heart, because right now all you want to do is go home and lie in your stupid bed and have a stupid cry in your favorite pajamas. but you try every door you can think of- none of them open. you've sstayed past closing more than once, but the doors aren't normally shuttered for another two hours,, and you're pretty sure the night guard isn't even here yet

the entire time you're walking around the 'plex, Moon is trailing sadly behind you, waiting with the saddest, most pathetic wet cat look an animatronic can achieve, for you to turn and face them again

and thus begins what is probably the longest night of your life, spent trying to avoid your animatronic friends/coworkers who are acting like the worlds clingiest ex who just got broken up with and who can't stop dropping sad love songs in ur dms

by the time morning rolls around, they agree to actually go to parts n services and cooperate and try their best to get whatever is wrong with them repaired, even if it means they might get decomissioned. in the mean time, you promise to come back once they're fixed and work with them to help them get back to their old selves- or at least, back to how they were before any potentially dangerous bugs

basically this is the 'sun and moon have abandonment issues and gaslight you abt it' au

idk what else would happen tbh idk why i thought this au needed to exist either but here we are *lays facedown in a puddle*

#bones of a rabbit #bones of a rabbit au #fnaf au #fnaf sun/moon #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf dca #fnaf sun/moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #au ideas #idea rambles #rambling #tw gaslighting #tw jealousy #tw obsessive behavior #tw possessive behavior #clingy sun and moon #tw guilt #abandonment issues au #abandonment au #they r very mentally ill ur honor #long post #fnaf fanfic

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine - Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 8.5k

TW: Guns, S2 E14/15 ie Revelations (lmao sorry gang), guns, police (acab), torture, character death, mentions of death, dead bodies, rabid dogs, loooots of bible talk, mentions of kissing, brief reminiscing of potentially more sticks to canon pretty closely meaning if you have issues with the Episode Revelations, then this might not be for you, neediness, crying, lack of crying, internalized emotions, mentions of cheating, mentions of past relationship trauma

A/N: So I'm pretty sure this reads as gn! Reid does quote a proverb that references women, but that's because the bible wasn't big on inclusivity when it came to shaming people who enjoyed sex...anywho! I love any and all feedback! Enjoy!

You, Emily, Hotch, Derek, Gideon and the Sheriff sat around the computer, staring at a woman tied up in a barn, in her slip dress, mouth duct taped over. A figure, who had hidden his face, was reading out a passage of the bible. Your eyes were glued to the screen. 

A portion of Jezebel shall dogs eat the flesh of.

“No. no.” You turned around, not wanting to watch what was happening on the screen, just hearing it was almost too much. 

“Jezebel’s Death.” muttered Gideon, his voice filled with solemnity. 

“My god.” Emily turned away from the screen, copying your actions. 

Finally, Hotch told Emily to turn it off, but not before the Sheriff jumped up. “Wait.” 

You all looked at him, confusion written all over everyone’s faces. 

“You hadn’t seen enough.” Derek quipped. 

“Those dogs. Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would’ve had them impounded but the victim knew the owner.” The sheriff was sure about it, more sure about this than anything he had seen in his life. “A neighbor, he didn’t want to press charges.” 

Gideon stared at him. “You sure?”

“As god as my witness.”  The sheriff scrambled for his notebook, flipping to find something. “Three mangy mixes, I knew those dogs looked sick. I called in animal control, but I don’t know if they ever followed up on it.” 

“Here it is.” He looked up from the page.

“You have the owner’s name?” Hotch leaned over glancing into the notebook. 

“Hankel.”

Your eyes went wide. “Hankel?”

“Tobias Hankel.” 

“That’s where Reid and JJ are.” You looked over at Hotch, who watched several waves of emotion fly over your face, trying to control all of them. He nodded and looked at everyone. “Alright let’s go.”

The sheriff yelled out for people to grab their gear while you asked Hotch for a second outside. He nodded and followed you outside to the parking lot. It was cold out, only because of the night breeze, allowing yourself to enjoy the lack of sun and heat. 

Hotch was the only person who actually knew about you and Spencer’s relationship, not because you didn’t trust the team, but because the less people that knew about it, the better. You had watched agents lose their loved ones over and over, being used as pawns against one another, and you were terrified of that happening. The team knew you two really liked each other, and you would hope that it showed since you had been dating for almost a year. 

You were the team's newest addition, right after Elle, younger than Spencer by a year, but still boasting your own PhD. The two of you clicked right away. And to a room of profilers, it was obvious that you two would work perfectly together, and you did. 

So when you started dating a couple months later, you had kept it a secret, just to test things out, not make it public before you were sure. But then the whole “Fisher King” incident happened, and then Elle disappeared, which meant Emily had just joined, causing there to be really no time to just drop another bombshell on a team.

You didn’t mind though. It meant that despite the teasing, you got reassurance that Spencer absolutely had a crush on you, regardless of relationship status. Morgan teasing him over glancing at you one to many times had definitely boosted your ego a bit, but a little confidence never hurt anyone.

You looked up at Hotch, really trying not to freak out, counting your inhales and exhales, timing them so your heart wouldn’t give out. “Hotch if they aren’t…” 

“I know.”

“I’m not asking you to promise me that everything is okay and he’s going to be fine, because we honestly have no reason to believe anything is wrong in the first place, but I–I just need to know that whatever might go down, I’ll have your support because…” 

He nodded and put a hand on your arm, giving it a squeeze. “I know. I’m going to give you another minute out here, but then we need to go.” He went back inside, letting you close your eyes, breathing in the air, letting the coolness still your chest. 

It was hard to only have Hotch know at times like these, or at least confirm his suspicions. You had been alone for about thirty seconds when Derek came out to greet you, bringing you your vest. 

“Stressed out there Girl Genius?” 

You nodded and accepted the vest, sliding it on, remaining silent. 

“Hey.” You looked up at Derek who held his arms out, and you gratefully accepted the invitation. “Everything’s going to be okay. Maybe he’ll finally admit that he loves you if something bad happens.” 

His joke landed but not in the way Derek thought. You scoffed. Derek sighed and pulled away a bit. “He really does like you Y/N, you just have to be patient with him.” You almost felt bad for not telling Derek the scoff was because you already had told one another, quite recently actually. 

“Maybe Derek. Maybe. But for now, I want to make sure they’re both okay, and I’d rather it be sooner than later.” 

The police pulled up to the Tobias household, sirens wailing, lights flashing around. You jumped out the car, gun in your holster, following Derek and Emily. 

The sheriff stopped Morgan and told him about the barn in the back, and the three of you moved to the back of the house. You took out your gun and slowly followed behind Morgan and Prentiss, watching the door of the barn swing back and forth slightly in the wind. 

Derek clicked on the flashlight, and you two did the same, following behind him as he took the lead into the barm. You shined a light through the empty stalls, rocking back and forth between each side, looking for any sign of  either Spencer or JJ.

Emily’s light landed on one of the dogs, dead—shot. You swung your light the opposite way, finding another dog. Just then Derek took a step back, having found the mattress in which the remains of that poor woman was, or at least all of her blood soaked through the entire fabric of the mattress. You immediately turned away, not being able to look at it. You had a very strong stomach, unusually strong since you worked with the FBI and had seen plenty of inhumane things no human should be capable of, but something about this particular scene was unbearable to look at. 

“Damn.” Derek whispered before you all whipped around when you heard someone scream “F.BI.”.

JJ. Her hair was matted, eyes wide, chest heaving. She was shaking, eyes running between the people standing in front of her. 

“JJ!” Derek yelled her name as everyone had swiveled around to her, all twisting your aim to JJ. . 

“Don't. Move.” 

“JJ it’s us–Morgan. Prentiss. Y/L/N. Don’t Shoot, it’s okay” He slowly moved towards her, trying to calm her down, get her to put down her weapon. “Don’t shoot. It’s okay. Are you hurt?”

She lowered her gun, eyes quickly moving from each of you, you could watch as her mind tried to calm down, letting the adrenaline dissipate. You approached her, getting close, trying not to startle her. 

“It-Tobias Hankel is the unsub.” She let out, eyes still quickly scanning around her, almost searching for something. 

“We know.” Emily exhaled, as she placed a hand gently on JJ’s arm. The sheriff leaned over and informed Derek that they were going to call an ambulance for JJ. 

“W-W-We just thought he was a witness…” JJ holstered her gun before watching as Morgan looked around as the dead dogs surrounded all four of you.  

“I had to kill them.” Her eyes had glossed over. 

“JJ, where’s Reid?” Derek spoke, looking at her expectantly, but eyes filled with worry. 

“They just completely tore her apart. There’s nothing even left–” 

“JJ. Look at me.” You grabbed her hand, causing her to look up at you. “Look at me. Where’s Reid.” 

“We–We split up, he told me he was going to go around back.” JJ started to panic again, realizing he wasn’t with you. You also started to tremble, pulling your hand away slightly, exiting the barn before you could hear another word, gun drawn. 

You could hear as Morgan followed you, almost running to the back of the barn. You stopped once you turned the corner, slowly creeping forward, eyes scanning across the corn, but also listening in for potentially any sound coming from behind the barn. You saw some trampled stalks, and turned to look at Derek. 

“He followed him into the field Derek.” 

Derek saw your thought process, and the conclusion you reached as you reached it, which was a matter of seconds. As you went to dash into the field, following the very faint trail, Derek grabbed your arm and stood his ground, meaning you fought against him, and he struggled a bit, but ultimately won. “If you think for one second I am about to let you go into that field, you’re crazy.”

“Dere–”

“That’s clearly a sign that someone got dragged. He’s not in there.” 

You huffed, biting your lip. You were trying so hard not to break in front of Derek, but every second you thought about what Tobias Hankel had been doing to people, meshed with every other second you thought about that happening to Reid, it was a miracle you could still even listen to Derek. 

“Go inside with Hotch.” 

You nodded slightly, holstering your gun, and running your hands down your face. “You’re not going to leave me alone until you watch me walk away from the cornfield.” You grumbled out, looking up at him. 

“Yeah.” He sighed and pulled you into a quick hug. “Look. I don’t know what has actually occurred between you and Boy Genius, but you charging off into a field we know he probably isn’t in, won’t help us find him. I’m going to talk to Prentiss and JJ.” 

You nodded and pulled away, running your hands through your hair, quickly walking towards the house as Derek moved towards the ambulance, not fully taking his eyes off of you. He was curious as to what the team didn’t know about you two, but pushed it aside since clearly pestering you about it wasn’t going to help any of you find Reid. 

The next morning, You had not slept, and were only slightly avoiding JJ, basically walking laps around the outside of the house, trying to let your brain get some oxygen and calm down. Or, you would be standing around a table with the team, sitting in front of the computers, and your leg would bounce, you would tap your hands against your arm, anything to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Obviously the team all picked up on it. It’s not even like they were microexpressions, you were just visibly anxious.  All your brain could think about were flashes of Spencer, and whether or not he was still alive, completely unaware of his whereabouts since the lead from last night turned out to be a dead end. Hankel was smart, which made you nervous. 

You were currently walking around the living room, wearing a circle into the rug, which was barely holding it together, reading Tobais’s diaries, trying to find anything. You heard JJ welcome in Garcia, and you paused to look up at Garcia with a brief smile on your face before continuing. Once they got her set up, Hotch tilted his head, requesting you come a bit closer so you all could talk. 

“So, I’m guessing nothing new since I left.” He started. 

“Not but,” Emily started. “The good thing is this guy documented everything second of his life. The bad news is we’re still unpiling.”

“From the looks of it, he hasn't left this place in years.” JJ sighed and stared down at all of the notebooks and papers strewn across the table. 

“He knew he could pretend to be looking for a motel and throw us off his trail.” Emily looked up at Hotch, but Gideon interrupted. 

“No no no, it’s more than that. Sheriff’s office, 911 calls. Every time he engages the police and gets away with it, he reassures himself. God’s on his side not ours.” 

You just walked into the kitchen and lightly dropped the notebook you had been reading onto the table, brushing past Hotch. “I need some air.” You mumbled to him, shoving the rickety screen door open and quickly hustling down the steps. 

You ran your hands through your hair, trying to breathe, trying to fight the urge to burst into tears and let yourself just lay on the ground. The only reason you hadn’t done so yet was because the urge to find Spencer was so much stronger. 

After a moment, you heard the screen door open and someone come down the steps. “Emily I’m fi–”

“Y/N,” 

You looked up and made eye contact with JJ. Her hair was flatter, less knots, but you could still see she had been shaken up. It didn’t matter. You were trying, desperately trying to not blame JJ for Reid’s disappearance, and you knew she was struggling with it too, but the fact that they weren’t together meant that he got dragged off somewhere, technically on her watch. 

“JJ now’s no–”

“Please let me—”

“JJ.” You cut her off, arms crossed over your chest. You were only truly able to make eye contact with her for a couple seconds before you had to avert your eyes upwards. “Seriously. I’m fine. Go back inside.” 

Your voice was curt, and running along the line of unkindness, but you were restraining yourself, trying to give your coworker, your friend, someone who had become your family, an out in this moment, but she just wouldn’t take it. 

“You won't even look at me!” That got your attention back to her. “You haven’t spoken to me since the barn, and you’re avoiding me. I-I know what we did wasn’t…” 

You huffed, now only staring at her, challenging her. “I’m listening now, JJ. That’s what you wanted right.” 

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know you blame me. I blame myself. But I can’t stand you being so distant and I–”

“Look. JJ.” You cut her off again. “I am doing everything in my power not to scream at the top of my lungs how stupid it was, for the both of you to split up.” Your voice was low, and steady—it was unnerving to hear since you had always spoken with such character, such lightness. “But right now, I can’t yell at Spencer. And I really do not want to yell at you. I think it is one of the stupidest decisions either of you could have made. But blaming you for a decision you both made, doesn’t help us find him any sooner. So please. Just leave me alone right now.”

You brushed past her, not making any actual contact with her, since the next person who touched you might actually be the reason you start sobbing. JJ was absolutely shocked, frozen in the yard, trying not to cry herself. You didn’t want JJ to cry, you really didn’t, but she was pushing on something that is usually completely surrounded by walls and locks and gates. 

You blinked away your tears and walked back into the house, towards the kitchen. Hotch and EMily looked up at you, both noticing JJ wasn’t next to you, and your face somehow managed to seem more frustrated and anxious than before. 

Spencer had bought you a necklace for your one year anniversary. It was a very simple chain, with a small pendant on the front. Inside it was a pressed flower, a small, pressed, red salvia in the center of the clear pendant. You loved flowers, it was very obvious from the way that you always had a small vase of a few fresh flowers in the corner of your desk, or you had a signature pair of floral converse you always wore when you went out. It took Spencer all of three seconds to figure out that you loved flowers, and all of one question later to find out if you knew, and liked, Victorian Flower language; of course you did. When you two had started secretly seeing one another, you had been updating the flowers weekly. It was a part of your regular schedule, so no one questioned it. But suddenly you were becoming deliberate in your mini bouquets, hints of longing (pink camellias), with pops of devotion (heliotrope), or secret adoration (gardenias) sprinkled with I think of you (blue salvia), eventually turning to bouquets of ever-lasting love (baby’s breath) and sunshine in his smile (yellow tulips). Every time you would update the weekly bouquet, the team would comment on how the new bouquet looked so beautiful, the colors brightening up the place. But when Spencer walked through the door, you loved watching his eyes immediately dart for the flowers, decoding the message for only him. The red salvia  on your chest was proudly proclaiming forever mine, for Spencer, and no one was the wiser.  

When you wore it happily the day after your anniversary, exchanging the previous bouquet for a new one filled with yellow lilies, Spencer cou;d’ve known right then and there that you were over the moon, if you hadn’t already told him, and shown him, the night before. When Derek watched you fiddle with the necklace all day, he had made a joke that clearly you have someone in your life and “Pretty Boy needs to step up his game”, he had misread your slight smirk as a tease on Spencer, and not on himself. It was not a month later that you were fiddling with it in Tobias Hankel’s kitchen, your biggest tell of all, that you were nervous about something. But to most of the profilers in the room, you were nervous and fiddling with your necklace, to Hotch, it was a clear sign that he needed to keep you at a slight distance to make sure your head stays clear. If any of them had been thinking clearly, they might have made the connection from the necklace to Reid, but no one really was. 

JJ followed a minute later, and quietly went back to her seat. It was clear she had been crying, or trying not to, but so were you, so it honestly didn’t make you feel as bad as it probably should have. 

“Hey guys.” Emily’s voice cut through your thoughts. “I have got a list of Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Someone’s name and number is written on it, but it looks to be about twelve years old.” 

“Try it. There are no bad leads.” Gideon answered. 

You sighed, but watched curiously as Gideon stared at the wallpaper. He peeled off a section of it, revealing what seemed to be the same phrase over and over and over again. 

“Honora Partum Tuum.” He read aloud. 

“Honor thy father.” You finally spoke up. For much of the team, it was the first time they had heard your voice in hours. 

Gideon looked over at you, realizing in his eyes, nodding. 

“Hey guys. I think I got something.” You heard Derek yell, which meant all of you rushed out of the house, running over towards Derek. He had his gun out, pushing hay off of doors to what seemed like a storm cellar. 

Derek pulled open one of the doors, shining his light into the darkness. “Tobias Hankel, F.B.I!” Hotch gave him the go ahead to slowly move down the stairs, then allowing Emily to follow. Hotch then gave you a small look, giving you the impression that you would not be allowed down into that cellar until it was cleared. You stood back slightly, not having the energy to have a bout in front of the others, still holding your gun, and scanning the surrounding area, keeping an eye particularly on the barn and the fields behind it. 

You heard Derek yell out “Tobias Hankel” a couple of times, making your pulse beat faster–maybe they had found him, maybe he was okay. There was no other sound than Derek though. Maybe he was dead. Maybe someone else had spencer. Maybe—Derek came out of the storm cellar, covering his mouth. 

You looked at him expectantly and shook his head. “Tobias’s father…on ice.” 

You exhaled, a wave of emotions crashing through your veins that only left you more stressed than before. 

Hotch came out of the cellar next, and motioned for you to follow him. You knew this conversation was coming, and the fact that it hadn't happened already surprised you. 

Once the two of you were out of earshot, Hotch looked at you, not as a friend, not as someone who helped you through some dark moments in your life, but as your boss. “Can you continue, or do you need to sit the rest of this case out.” 

His tone wasn’t harsh, quite the opposite. He watched as someone he cared for was slowly crumbling, closing off her walls to the outside, meaning you were more in your own head, than truly present. 

You nodded, sighing. “If I’m not here, then I might go out there on my own. I’m not telling you that you’re babysitting me.” Hotch tried to cut you off, but you barrelled through. “But I need to be here, because if a breakthrough happens, if any of us find a location, I need to be in that car Hotch. If we find Hankel, I have a full understanding that however I react is the fate of my job. I am well aware of that. And I love this team with basically everything I have, so I need you to trust me, the way I am trusting all of you to find him.”

Hotch watched you for a moment before nodding. His features softened and he placed his hand on your arm again. It was the most contact Hotch ever really gave, but it meant so much. “Are you okay?” 

You shook your head, managing to keep it together. “No. I’d be more concerned if I was.” You tried to crack a joke, causing both of you to smile before he nodded at you. “I’ll see you in there.” 

He left you standing by yourself, giving you a moment to collect yourself, before you followed him back into the house, back into the kitchen, back into the journals. 

Spencer being gone for so long meant you had a laundry list of things you missed about him. You missed the way he would ramble on about anything in the world that he knew about. You missed his sweater vests, how they never seemed to match his outfit, but somehow always pulled the look together. You missed his dorky smile at you from across his desk. You missed the notes he would leave you in your apartment when he would get up to get to work, knowing you always had arrived before him at work since you lived closer. You missed the feeling of his hands in yours. The feeling of the hand on your back, on your shoulder. 

But right now, you missed how fast that son of a bitch could read. Oh my god. If you had to read through one more of Tobias’ notebooks, you might lose your mind. You placed it facedown on the table and placed your head in your hands, giving your eyes a well deserved break. 

After a moment, Derek spoke up. “There’s something weird going on here.” He was slowly pacing around the table. 

“You think?” quipped the sheriff from across the room, and you snorted slightly in agreement and amusement. 

“No seriously, check this out.” Derek looked up at everyone in the kitchen. “This journal is full of religious ramblings. He notates hour by hour. November 15th, 3:17 – if ye offer a sacrifice of peace offering unto the lord, ye shall offer it of your own will. And it goes on and on. 5:04, 7:41, 10:22, 1:42, but then it goes blank for days.”

You removed your face from your hands, looking over at Derek. 

“Maybe he got sick of writing.” The sheriff offered up. 

“I think I got it.” 

“What is it?” Gideon prodded Hotch, all of you watching him. 

“Journal entry, December 6th, Father sick. Wants me to put him down. I say thou shalt not kill, he says honor thy father. Must pray for guidance.” Hotch looked over at Gideon. 

“So he kills his father as an act of mercy?” 

“This is two months ago. Tobias Hankel’s father had been dead for four months already.” Hotch raised his eyebrows, Gideon and Derek starting to realize what he was getting at. 

“That’s exactly it.” Derek moved one of the chairs away from the table. “Look at the floor. These scuff marks are fresh. I mean, it’s like two people were moving the chairs constantly trying to fight for control.” 

“So?”

“This journal matches Charles Hankel’s handwriting, but it was written after he died. Upstairs, Tobias’ bedroom—it’s got junk piled from floor to ceiling but the other bedroom could pass a military inspection.” Derek was explaining to the Sheriff, who honestly was starting to get on your nerves with some of these questions. 

“So you’re telling me one of Tobias’ personalities was his father?” 

“Well, Tobias was raised with a strict religious code. Black and white, right and wrong.” Gideon interrupted. “When his father asked Tobias to kill him, something had to give.” 

“His brain couldn’t handle the moral contradiction so it split into two personalities in order to keep his father alive.” Hotch looked over at Derek, a conversation between the two of them happening silently and quickly. 

“So who is Raphael?” 

“My guess, he’s the mediator between the two.” You spoke up, watching hotch and derek before looking back at the sheriff. 

“Angels have no human emotions.” Gideon continued your thoughts. “Live or die, they don’t care. As long as it’s God’s will.”

“We need to start profiling Tobias’ father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid.” Hotch quickly looked at you before looking at Derek. 

Derek nodded and started to head out of the room. “I’ll get Garcia on it”. 

“Any luck with the rehab contact?” You looked up as Emily and JJ walked in, hoping they would have some answer for you. 

Emily sighed. “Well he has no idea where Hankel might be, but we did learn that he has a serious drug problem. Dilaudid.”

“Well that could explain the psychotic fracture.” Hotch nodded over at Gideon. 

“What are you talking about?”

Gideon, who had been staring at the photos all along the mirror that they had taped up, looked over at JJ. “Tobias is living as at least three different people; himself, Raphael, and his father.”

“Well this could be some bad news.” 

Honestly, to you, it felt like all the sheriff did was bring more and more bad news. 

“A computer store was robbed in the middle of the night. A suburb outside of Atlanta Thief got away with four laptops, external hard drives, and a satellite.”

“If it’s Tobias that puts him right back in business.” Hotch cast a quick glance over at you, watching as you tensed up, knowing the images you were desperately trying to keep out of your head. In response, you stood up and left the room, heading over to Derek and Penelope in the next room. 

Penelope was sitting at the desk, typing and typing away. Derek looked up as you entered, giving you a small smile. You shook your head. “They think Tobias stole—” Just as you started, your mouth stopped. The screens in front of Penelope had changed, going blank with one cursor in the corner. 

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know.” Penelope’s eyes were wide. 

Spencer filled up every single screen, except for Penelope's laptop, and the one screen she was directly connected to. 

“Oh my god.” You yelled, one hand flying to cover up your mouth, the other immediately grabbing your necklace, eyes flitting from screen to screen. This wasn’t real, it wasn’t happening–it couldn’t be happening. 

Spencer was tied to a chair, his clothes disheveled, his hair a mess, he was missing both shoes and one sock. The left side of his head was soaked with blood, hair wet with it. 

This was your worst nightmare, and yet you could not look away. You watched as his chest rose and fell, giving you at least the calm that he was alive. But tears still pricked the corners of your eyes, breathing was becoming harder and harder, but you couldn’t shut down. Your body wouldn’t let you. 

Your yell had the others almost run into the room you were in, all of them barreling into the room, filling it up with bodies. Once they all looked at you, each one slowly realized what you were staring at. 

“He’s been beaten.” Emily so astutely pointed out. 

“Can’t you track him.” JJ was also struggling to breathe, guilt consuming her entire body. 

“Hankel’s only streaming this to his home computer.” Garcia said solemnly, still doing her best to find something, anything. 

Hotch turned to look at your face. At this point, most of the blood had left your face, leaving you pale, and nauseous. He tried to calmly gestured for you to leave, giving you an out, but you stared straight ahead, somehow becoming more pale, more sick, when Gideon pointed it out for you all. 

“This is for us. He knows we’re here.” 

Derek huffed and turned away for a second, trying not to bash the wall in. “I’m gonna put this guy’s head on a stick.” 

“Why can’t you locate him?” You could kiss Hotch for staying so level headed in this moment. Your eyes quickly tore away from the screens, looking at Garcia. 

“He’s rerouting to a different I.P. address every thirty seconds. I can’t track him.” 

Can you really see inside men’s minds?

All of you quickly found a screen to watch as you heard the voice take over. 

See these vermin? Choose one to die.

All you could do was stare at his face–his eyes. You had never seen Spencer so vulnerable, so tired, barely fighting at all. You watched as his eyes scanned across something to his right. All of you held your breath, waiting for Spencer to say something, anything. 

You choose one to live. 

“Oh my god.” You mumbled again as Spencer shook his head slightly, defying Tobias, or whoever’s wishes. 

I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior. 

“You’re a sadist in a psychotic break. You won’t stop killing. Your words aren’t true.” 

The other heathens are watching. Choose a sinner to die, and I’ll say the name and address of the person to be saved. 

“I won't choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.” Spencer was staring into his eyes, challenging him. But Tobias, or Charles, picked him up by the collar, both hands, and brought his face really close to Spencer's. 

Can you really see inside my mind boy. Can you see I'm not a liar. He chucked Spencer back into the chair, causing Spencer to flinch from another bruise you probably couldn't see. Choose one to die, and save a life. Otherwise they’re all dead. 

“All right. I’ll choose who lives.” You inhaled sharply, Derek tensing up next to you. 

They’re all the same. 

You all waited, in silence, as Spencer scanned what you assumed were the laptops that had been stolen. His eyes flickered to the camcorder, shame in voice, looking back at Tobias or Charles. “Far right screen.”

Marilyn David, 4913 Walnut Creek Road

“You got that?” 

“Marilyn David. My name is Jason Gideon with the F.B.I. I need you to close your laptop screen right now. Someone has been connecting into your laptop’s camera and watching you. For your safety, you need to close it. 

“Raphael.” 

The computer screens went black. 

“Garcia, get him back.” 

Derek turned away, slamming the door against the wall as he stalked out of the room, beyond pissed. 

“Garcia, get him back.” You repeated, absolute horror dawning on all of your faces. Your eyes were frantically running over every screen every ten seconds, hoping that maybe one of them would still hold the image of Spencer. 

“I’m t-trying.” She whispered, furiously typing away, trying to hack into something, or find Hankel, anything really. 

“So now what. Wait for a 911 call?” The sheriff's voice rang out in your ear, and it grated against you. “And hope we get there in time.” 

Once you had gotten the 911 call, you, JJ, Emily, and Derek were told to stay at the house with Garcia. You heard Derek and JJ in one of the other rooms, but you were just standing next to Garcia’s chair, not moving an inch. All you could do was stare at the screens, eyes flitting from face to face on unexpecting potential victims. 

JJ walked in, looking more like she had in the barn–disheveled, guilty. “Any more signs of Reid.” 

Both you and Garcia shook your heads. 

“He just posted the last murder online.” Garcia’s voice was grave, eyes dark. “It had over 17,000 hits in the first twenty minutes.” 

“I want to see it.” 

“No you don’t.” You answered JJ, not turning to look at her. 

“Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want.” 

You tore your eyes away from the screens and over at JJ. 

“If I can’t watch this…I have no business being in the field.” 

“J-ge, it’s not a competition.” Garcia whispered. 

“I-I need to see it.” 

You shook your head and walked out of the room, not being able to watch it again. You walked into the kitchen where Derek and Emily were, discussing something. Derek’s eyes quickly flicked over to you, surprised slightly by the fact that you had left the screens. 

“We can trace their whole family history. Here we got happy smiling pictures of Tobias. Report cards all A’s and B’s. But at eight years old, we got nothing.” 

“That’s his mother leaving.” Emily shot you a quick, yet sympathetic smile, before looking back at the mirror. “Six months later, on the other side of the board, we have a form from child services saying they paid a visit.”

“Then Charles starts keeping journals about punishing sinners and needing to remove the devil from his son.” Derek continued. 

“Which corresponds to Tobias’ drug use. He’s trying to escape.” You watched as Emily and Derek worked through the profile again. 

“So wherever Reid is, It was Tobias’ choice, not his fathers.” Derek sighed and scanned over the pictures, trying to find maybe a common location amongst them. 

“How’d you figure?”

“Look at these two lives. They’re like inverse graphs. One’s getting weaker while the other ones getting angrier. Tobias would run away while his father would have stood and fought.” Derek looked back at Emily. 

She nodded. “Okay so Tobias uses drugs as an escape. I’ll go back through the journals and see if I can find anything connecting his drug use to a hiding place 

“Uh where’s Gideon.” You finally spoke up. 

“He’s upstairs. Why? What’s going on?” 

“Hankel just posted the latest murder.” JJ walked out of the room that you had just been in. 

You watched as she quickly called out to Gideon that the newest murder had been uploaded, and as he quickly made his way into the adjoining room. You heard him panicking, trying to come up with a solution to get people to stop watching the videos. 

You were fiddling with your necklace, mind lost on the day before all of this started. It had been sunny in DC. Something you didn’t get all the time, especially when you were only there half of the year. You had gone over to Spencer's apartment, picking up your favorite take out on the way over. He had been teaching you how to play chess. You already knew the basics of chess, which pieces moved where, and how to analyze a board on a move to move basis, but Spencer started to teach you strategies. He would explain every single move he was making, and how he was able to predict a check in three. It was adorable. In return, for every game you would learn together, Spencer would watch a movie with you. He would watch movies if you had asked him in the first place, but this time, you gave him what he thought was the most enthralling commentary the entire time. You would put on your favorite movies and ramble on and on about a certain actor getting sick during this shot, or the fact that the two romantic leads hated one another, or even someone breaking their toe during one scene—he adored listening to you ramble, in the same way you loved listening to him. That night was movie night. You had picked cult-classic “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” you were absolutely enthralled to explain to Spencer the interactive portions of the movies, the screaming at the screen, the details of the pink triangle on Dr. Franknfurter’s smock, the repetition of certain musical themes. You two hands ended up tangled on the couch, giggling about something, drunk on each other’s company—it was perfect. 

But the sound of Spencer’s sob ripped through your thoughts. It took you three strides to be back with Garcia and Gideon, watching as Tobias slammed his fist across Spencer’s face. Your hands moved to your mouth as your eyes watered. 

You heard as he begged Tobias to help him, bruises flowering across his face, a cut across his lip breaking the once smooth skin. 

He can’t help you. He’s weak. Confess. Confess your sins. 

You watched as Spencer’s chair was chucked to the ground, while he was still tied to it. Every single atom of air had left your lungs. You could feel the pit of your stomach drop, unable to move, unable to blink. Tears welled up in your eyes as the love of your life was being beaten to death, and you couldn't do anything about it. 

Several studies have shown that plants can feel pain. Whether or not they are completely and one hundred percent credible is something you and Spencer have jokingly argued about multiple times. You liked to think that they didn’t considering you managed to bring in a fresh crop of newly cut flowers each week. But these scientists claim that plants can feel pain. They can feel the pain of being cut from the vine or stem, and they can feel themselves dying as you watch them wilt in the vase. You and JJ were quite similar in feeling like you had to prove something to yourself, that if you couldn’t handle what was happening, maybe you shouldn’t be in the field, shouldn’t be in the BAU. 

Watching Spencer have a seizure on the ground, unable to run to him, unable to save him, unable to do anything but just watch in horror, made you feel every single ounce of pain you could have ever imagined. When his body stilled, and Tobias exited whatever building they were in, you were still standing there, completely and utterly in shock. Hotch took your arm and wordlessly tugged on your arm, but you couldn’t move. Your feet were cemented to the floor. Even if you wanted to run the other way, you couldn’t. Hotch tried again, but you just stared at the screen, constantly flipping the necklace over and over and over and over again. If you moved, you might start sobbing, you might collapse, you might have just died on the spot. 

Spencer's lips were still. His lips would ramble when he had something he found quite interesting to speak about, they would fidget when he got nervous, they would form quirky expressions when he had a moment of realization. But not once have they ever been this still. And it was dissolving your heart. Moment by moment another small section would boil down to dust, not even letting you have the chance to have your heart ripped out, because that would mean your heart would still be together, still be beating, just not with you anymore. Your heart was dying because Spencer was dead. 

The first stage of grief is denial. All you could do was hope, pray, anything that this was some sick and twisted joke, that Spencer was okay. That Spencer was alive. That you weren’t staring at Spencer’s body on the screen, not knowing where he was, and if you would ever find him, or his body. 

Lucky for every single person in that room, and lucky for Tobias Hankel, you watched as he burst back through the door, dropped down to his knees, and tried to resuscitate Spencer. Your eyes widened as you watched every single chest compression, every single moment of mouth to mouth. After the longest thirty seconds of your life, Spencer convulsed, air filling his lungs, coughing. 

“Oh my god.” You almost threw up into the hands that were covering your mouth because you were so grateful for the fact that Spencer was breathing, that his dead body was somewhere you might never have found it. 

“Wait. Wait a second.” Emily leaned over to Garcia. “When was the video of the last murder poster?” 

“9:23.” 

“And what was the time of death?” 

“The 911 call came in at 9:04, and the murders must have been moments later.”

“That's only a 19 minute difference.” You spoke up, figuring out what Emily was getting at. 

“How long would it take to post the mpeg.” Derek chimed in. 

“2, 3 minutes.” Garcia looked over at you all. 

“Lets call it 2. You figure a maximum of sixty miles per hour in a residential area, that means Hankel has to be within a seventeen mile radius of the crime scene.” Derek reasoned, looking over at Hotch. 

“Garcia, can we see it on a map?” Hotch leaned over Garcia. 

“Call Farraday. I want that area locked down like it’s martial law.” Gideon turned to Derek, ready to give more instructions but you interrupted. 

“Guys.” 

You came back to life. 

Spencer was looking up at Rapheal now. The complete shift in tone from Charles to Raphael to Tobias always made your hair stand on edge, but you could hear the anger that Raphael held. 

There can only be one of two reasons. 

“I was given CPR.” Even after he was just given his life back, he still managed to crack a joke.  

There are no accidents. How many members are on your team? 

“Seven”

You paused, ready to speak up, but Tobias beat you to it. 

The seven angels who had the seven trumpets who prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and fire, mixed with blood and they were thrown to the earth. 

“He thinks it’s revelations. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death.” Hotch explained.

“Hotch there are eight of us on this team.” You spoke, this time garnering the attention of everyone in the room. “He’s lying to Hankel, that's considered a sin right? If Hankel finds out—”

You were interrupted by the sound of a chair hitting the ground. Hankel had yanked Spencer’s chair upright, watching as he was jostled around. 

Tell me who you serve.

“I serve you”

Then choose one to die

“What”

Your team members choose one to die. 

“Kill me” 

You inhaled sharply causing one of Derek's hands to find the small of your back. You had already watched him die once, but you can’t give CPR to a bullet through the brain.

You said you weren't one of them

“I lied”

Your team has six other members. Tell me who dies. 

“No”

All of you watch as Tobias pulls one bullet out of his pocket, and clicks open the revolver. He placed it in, and spun the barrel, letting it close with a click. Spencer playing Russian roulette was not on your bucket list of things to do this year. Maybe force him to go kayaking with you, let him teach you some other game like Go, maybe even take a few days off for a real vacation and work each other up so desperately. But you could guarantee, this was not on that list. 

Each time Spencer refused, and you heard the empty barrel fire, your heart gave out, again. 

Choose, and prove you’ll do god's will. 

“No.”

Click.

And again.

Choose. 

“I won’t do it”. 

Click. 

And again.

Life is a choice. 

“No.”

Click. 

And again.

Choose. 

Spencer’s pause made everyone hold their breaths. He had a 33.33% chance of getting shot, and luck had to run out, it always did. 

“I-I choose…” You all waited, no one truly knowing what he could possibly be thinking. “Y/N Y/L/N.” Derek's hand on your back tensed up, all eyes looked at you, and all you could do was stare at Spencer on the screen. He wouldn’t just hand out your death sentence like that, he wouldn’t do that to you. Right? Right?

“Adulterer, cheating on my for months now. Puts their own needs above others and their feelings.” Your brows furrowed, hand immediately at the necklace you were wearing around your neck. This accusation confused the absolute shit out of you, since you had revealed to Spencer your history with a previous partner who had chea–oh. He was speaking to you. 

“Oh my god.” You whispered. 

“I would come home to bouquets of crimson roses and rosemary, or there would be begonias and clematis. I've only ever bought red salvias with baby’s breath—their favorite.” Spencer chuckled, putting on an act for Tobias. 

“Pen! I need a pen.” You yelled, everyone now concerned you had lost your mind, but Garcia had quickly handed you hers as you tried to write down the flowers Spencer had listed off. Once you had all of them written down, you quickly ran out of the room.

“Genesis 23:4, For the lips of an immoral woman are as sweet as honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil. But in the end she is as bitter as poison, as dangerous as a double-edged sword.”

You only paused for a moment when you heard a gunshot, but you kept going, hoping and praying that you were right. You had found one of the empty pages of Tobais’ journals and wrote down the flowers:

crimson roses - mourning rosemary - remembrance clematis - poverty begonias - beware, watch out

You looked at the list of the flowers, over and over. “Mourning…” You mumbled, when it hit you. Quickly, you grabbed the bible on the table, flipping to find Genesis 23:4. 

Morgan walked into the room, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Look I don't know about this potential relationship that you and Spenc-"

“I’m not a cheater.” You cast him a quick look, still flipping to find the page. 

Derek started. “He’s not in his right mind Y/n.” 

Gideon quickly followed. “Come on, look you can’t think anything of that..” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Well, yes, it is, but that’s not–”

Hotch cut you off. “He’s panickin—”

“Everyone. Stop.” They all obliged, watching as you picked up the notebook you had been writing in. “What is my worst quality?”

They all just stared at you.

“Okay I’ll start, I can be a total bitch.” 

“You miss a concerning amount of briefings.” 

“You can get overly emotional sometimes.”

“You’re extremely stubborn.” 

“You don’t trust anyone easily.” 

“Okay good, I’m all these things, but none of you said that I would ever put my needs over anyone. Especially over other’s feelings. Reid and I had a conversation about two weeks ago about my ex who would repeatedly cheat on me, among other things.” You took a little breath before continuing. “And he knew I would obviously remember a conversation like that. He also knows I love Victorian Flower Language, it’s one of my favorite interests. Some of the flowers he listed off,  correspond to flowers you send in mourning, when someone has died, not the flowers you send someone to admit their love or hide it.” 

You handed the bible to JJ. “And he also quoted Genesis Chapter 23, verse 4, Read it.”

JJ read out: “I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you, that I might bury my dead out of sight.”

“Spencer would never get it wrong unless it was on purpose. He’s in a cemetery.” 

“I don’t see a cemetery” Garcia had pulled up the 17-mile radius again, looking between you and Hotch. 

“Call up the first time we saw Reid.” Gideon was rubbing his hands together, trying to remember something. 

“I won't choose who gets slaughtered, and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher.” 

Spencer had looked right at the camera, fucking brilliant man. He had been trying to contact you all since the first time he was on camera.

“Check to see if there are any reports of poaching in the last couple of days.” Hotch nodded at Gideon while Garcia speedily typed out her parameters, getting a response almost instantly. 

“Okay uh, a farmer reported two sheep being slaughtered on his property.”

“Where are we talking?” Derek was behind you, watching as Garcia zoomed into a five mile radius around the farmer’s land. 

“It would be someone that was old, dilapidated, run down. Clematis is a sign of poverty.”

JJ pointed to a small section on the screen. “What’s that patch of green there”

“Marshall parish, I think it's an old plantation.” 

“Wait.” Emily quickly flipped through a journal, trying to find what she had remembered. “Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from Marshall.”

“Guys. There's a cemetery on the grounds.” 

“Alright.” Hotch nodded at all of you. “Let's go.” 

As you all headed out, Hotch stopped you, pulling you past the kitchen and into the living room. Derek shot you a sympathetic smile as he and the rest of the team exited the building. The living room would be far enough away from Penelope's prying ears, but it’s not like it mattered anymore—it was pretty obvious you and Spencer were sleeping together, if not dating. 

“You’re not going.” 

You scoffed at Hotch, expecting nothing less, but still willing to fight him about it. 

“I’m serious Y/N. I need everyone out there to be as level headed as possible, and you and I both know that the second Spencer put his life on the line, second time round, you were about to raise hell and earth to get to him. If you can promise me, right here, right now, that your head is completely clear, then I will let you go with us, no questions asked.” 

You pinched your eyes, letting out a hefty sigh. “Hotch I cannot be here in case he needs me.” 

“If he gets hurt, you will not be able to function as an agent, and that is a risk I am not willing to take.” 

Hotch is right. He almost always is.

The porch door swung open with the loudest screech yet, Derek appearing in his bullet proof vest, holding Hotch’s in his hand. “We’re heading out.” 

Hotch nodded at you, a brief hand on your arm, before walking to the door. 

“Hotch?” 

He looked over at you. 

“The last flower? Begonias?” He nodded at you, not sure where you were going with this. 

“If you were sent begonias…it was a subtle warning that you were in danger. Please, be careful.” 

“We will.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut, and suddenly you were stuck in a ranch house, wondering whether or not Spencer was okay, and whether or not your team would even make it on time. You clutched at the necklace, twirling the pendant, watching as the headlights faded into the darkness, with the very real possibility, someone might not come back. 

Next Part

#spencer reid #x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x gn!reader

[moonbiscuitsims]

Team Minato Cyberpunk'd AU version (TS4). Kakashi, Rin and Obito. Mega CC list dump (Download below)

REFERENCES

Why did I do this? Mainly This fanart and This but also This and This by @badninken inspired me, I never used to care as much for this team beyond a backstory but suddenly I do because their art is beautiful. I definitely enjoy AU Obito more. Also this fanart by @akatsukiarts for Rin's skater look. Courtesy of @skykashi who I discovered them through 💜 probably wouldn't have made this otherwise, or at least would have probably only made Kakashi or Team 7. Also I guess since I did Konan and Pain I'm probably going to end up making every Naruto character I like into cyberpunk version for my save. I can't help it. I like them more than in my pure canon naruto save lol. This is a LOT of CC and took a looong time, but I didn't include sliders or irrelevant items like skin or skin details, only the important items from their outfits or stuff I really liked, so you can make them if you want to or just if you want some of the items.

If there's something I forgot please let me know. Also sorry if I got anything wrong or messed up the links somehow, I feel like I'm going blind from copying and pasting and googling lmao if anything doesn't make sense ask me. I'm reuploading Happytobe's Naruto CC cause all of the links seem broken and I think they have been for a while. It isn't broken, my mistake, they simply have a strange thing that pops up before simsfileshare, I thought it was all broken. I have updated my CC list to include happy to be's links. The lost cc folder now only has three items :) This is their site I recoloured the jonin long leggings for Rin. You need the mesh I include in the HTB section of the cc list lost cc folder, as well as my recolour if you want them. They clip a bit when she walks but it's fine. I also made an ANBU tattoo only version of S4 Anime Cas's anbu outfit. All their CC links as well as many other creators and miscellaneous downloads are all included in the link below.

CC LIST + DOWNLOADS 🐱‍👤💜

#moonbiscuitsims #moonbiscuitsimsphotos #moonbiscuitsims4 #moonbiscuitsimscc #moonbiscuitsimsnaruto #moonbiscuitsimscas #simblr #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 lookbook #cyberpunk #naruto #moonbiscuitsimscyberpunk #naruto shippuden #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #obito uchiha #uchiha obito #rin nohara #nohara rin #team minato #akatsuki #tobi akatsuki #kakashi #obito #anime fanart #sims 4 anime #anime sims

[oceanlipgloss]

26.1.2024

—nsfw + chapter 5 spoilers

Valefor's H-scene it is! The CG in the update announcement looked preeetty promising, so let's see what lies behind the door it

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

intro:...no

update I: *inhales* right...here's the deal. He's very happy and turned on that she's comparing him to Mammon, but I'll be honest and say that I don't like what she's saying or how she's going about this at all. He likes it, but that doesn't make her approach okay—to compare two individuals in a manner that makes it seem as though one of them is a copy of the other (and in turn isn't being recognised as their own person). Gusion deserves someone smarter than MC, yo But from an objective point of view, WHB is a lot about logic twisted backwards, so I can sure as hell definitely enjoy and respect how the concept is being maintained because that's how it's supposed to be: adopt a concept, stick to it till the end

update II: I am sorry, Bimet. My condolences. Time to collect some condolence money from you Kinda hot how Valefor just replies with "I know" aka code for "I want this to be risky and I'd like it if I could scrape your nerves" tho go for it, boy

update III: ughhh yes I like how they're in sync

update IV: the language in this H-scene is stronger—more direct and explicit than it was in earlier scenes cock oooo PB, have ur writers been reading fanfics? :D I don't see hot object anywhere I will never let them live that down

update V: not bad, Valefor, not bad at all. I love how he's intent on wringing her nerves lmao

update VI: "shaft" lol they've definitely been reading fanfics I haven't seen this word in forever. Then again, I just write fanfics and barely read any, so...yup, the word is probably still used but I'm not there to see it

update VII: YEAHHH NOW FLAG IT, TUMBLR🖕🏼I'm still salty about how I wasn't able to post Belial's CG in his H-scene reaction post

update VIII: nice move, monsieur

update IX: ...how is he going to cum STAMINA AND PAST H-SCENES SAY THEY COULDN'T

update X: GRAAAAA HOTTT IT'S THE HORN AGAIN AND IT'S TRICKLING DOWN HER HEAD THIS TIME also, PP FINALLY GOT RIGHTS! PP IS 'HOT OBJECT' NO LONGER, REJOICE! But I am once again asking: HOW. DID. HE. CUM? And why wasn't anyone other than him and Bimet able to cum/orgasm? Is it a blessing superpower God bestowed upon Tartaros men only? Is that it? I demand need answers pls

update XI: sort of appreciate the semi-angsty injection at the end "although that would be very rare" that's what he said

update XII: probably fiddling with them nip nops anatomically speaking, referencing some laws of physics

#whb #whb valefor #what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad diaries

[foileadeux]

im obsessed with your art and animatics... do you have any tutorials or process posts about some techniques you use? like how you move characters separate of the backgrounds (is it just some clever tweening in vegas??) ty in advance... ;; v ;;

sure! umm this is gonna be messy sorry if anythings incoherent. ill walk u thru this segment of the pkradi hollow fight bc theres a lotta layers. heres the shot for reference

aaand heres a breakdown of the layers (called tracks in sony vegas but im just gonna keep calling them layers) from top to bottom

heres the foreground! where i wanna place shit that goes in front of the characters and background

heres where the characters will be placed! sandwiched between the foreground and background, they get more frames (as shown by the smaller segmented images on the timeline) opposed to set pieces which is usually just 1 image, which means we gotta approach tweening w the characters differently since there are a lot more images! ill explain that after this initial breakdown

and heeeres all the background shenanigans. not much to add here. those sure are background frames

RIGHT now to the tweening. when tweening 1 image/frame whateva you're gonna wanna use pan/crop (located on the image, that lil box with a crop around it icon), use this for stuff that only really needs 1 image, like a background. because its easier. like you could use track motion for everything i guess but pan/crops nice and easy and doesnt give me a headache she treats me nice and good

but uh yea so youll start with a little keyframe at the beginning, drag the pan/crop timeline to the end and click the little + sign to create a keyframe! then from there move the pan/crop box (the one with an F on it lmao) around and kablammo. Movement. usually with backgrounds its just a simple panning to the left or right, like how i did it for this shot! but you can do lots more like zoom and angle it etc

aand when you wanna tween across multiple images in a layer/track you're gonna head on over to your layer/track and hit that funny little track motion button aand youll be greeted with a pan/crop lookin thing except its like. for the whole layer/track instead. so the timeline is waaay bigger since it covers the whole thing. but umm yes same principle as pan/crop basically, except youll now need to insert "hold" keyframes right after your final keyframe, copy and paste a keyframe with all the positions defaulted (im gonna assume youre using 1920 x 1080 since its the standard)

like so and then right click a grey keyframe and choose "hold". this stops everything from fucking up and flying between each keyframe basically LMAOO the Hold is it waiting for your next keyframe that is Not a hold. if that makes sense. anyways yea only worry about that for track motion JUST because it works with the entire track/layer, with pan/crop you can ignore this

BUT YEAH thats my silly little sony vegas tweening guide i hope that helps!! umm i have another tutorial also so u can check that out too if youd like :D

#ask #saluting anyone who bothers reading all of that #i use sony vegas 14 btw

[zelenbug]

i did the height thing again but for rayman 2, specifically the pc version (minus the ending uglette and polokus, got them from dreamcast bc the pc ending map didnt load but this shouldnt affect anything). and i didnt leave anyone out this time ! (EDIT: actually i forgot one guy but theres a separate comparison at the end of hte post)

full image uncropped (21.8 mb, 36506x3438) and also halved again because its A Lot (7.6 mb, 18253x1719)

and condensed. a bunch of guys have been cut from here for being WAY TOO TALL!!!

also full image (5 mb?, 11015x1560)

notes below read more again

-

this time i didnt let them be at their original y positions (relative to rayman with the same y coordinates) for convenience

otherwise i got the images the same way as with the rayman 3 height thing more or less, but was more lenient with y rotation for the ending cutscene and didnt relocate them to the same y coordinates every time bc rayman 2 maps are weird. i also let the upscales/downscales for some things still be a thing, both axel and foutch are at 2x scale (thats why theres a bonus tiny foutch) and jano during the boss fight is 5x

i didnt get everything from the dreamcast version because ive never played it but i did get specifically this image for bias reasons

these are all the same exact height unsurprisingly. all from dreamcast btw lmao i dont have an explanation for globu's hands

the babies are in hte order of their actual object instances so enjoy the fact that theres 8 of them (the lower poly one doesnt count thats a diff object technically) but oktette is not the eighth one. also enjoy these random tiny fish

the caterpillar thingy (that they used to represent black lums in rayman kart for some reason) is confusing so i made its height the approximate height of its segments here

now the important question? Whos taller ???!!!! ok yeah its reflux no competition

you see why i didnt include any of the much taller guys in the rayman 3 height chart ! i had way too much trouble with the r2 ones already!!!

and it turns out my sheets are cross compatible bc rayman ended up the same height on both of them minus ONE pixel. the r2 one is taller but its such a negligible difference im not even counting it

using this knowledge you can just directly copy paste and compare whatever you want!!! heres a bunch of comparisons idk its kinda interesting

i have to go stand next to a tiny angry robot to showcase how much taller i am

2024.02.29 edit i forgot about this guy sorry

would be around here

#rayman

[aroacesafeplaceforall]

I'm sorry wait people think youre aphobic now??? LMAO

Like okay sure whether Alastor is sex-repulsed aroace is kinda up for debate (I strongly believe he is, I think there is a lot of evidence for that, but whatever). But you were very clearly taking issue with allos shipping canonically aroace characters with no thought for how them being aroace affected the relationship. And beyond that, you NEVER said something about them being evil or awful or deserving of death threats, you more or less said you thought it was a shitty thing to do and that you judged them for it.

You even specifically mentioned that if someone was araoce and shipping an aroace character, you weren't as worried about that, and that if thought was put in to how being aroace-spec affected the relationship, that was good.

Beyond that you have always been extremely supportive of all sorts of "imperfect" araoce identities (to anyone who doesn't believe that claim, please read the damn pinned post).

Yeah, you messed up with the one person, but you apologized and deleted the post. You never said to send death threats or harassment, you specifically said to "block and move on." The individual is being hypocritical, saying it's your fault people are sending harassment to them but not their fault people are sending harassment to you.

And if that one individual reads this: People unfamiliar with Hazbin have no idea that radio has a connection to Alastor. And alter doesn't only refer to system alters. While on Tumblr that's the main implication, it can also mean stuff like an alter-ego (for superheros and the like). Additionally if Jamie was tired he may not have fully read it out. He may have just copy-pasted the username. Yes, he should have done his due diligence, but when his error was pointed out he did EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER to correct it. What else do you expect?

(I'm a bit nervous to be posting this instead of using an anon ask but here goes. Definitely turning off anon for asks on my blog).

#submission #aromantic #asexual #discourse 

[bibibbb99]

Traits/personalities in a partner that turn genshin men off (Kaeya, Scaramouche, Albedo)

I hit my head today and suddenly stopped being an art tumblr for a solid moment.

Disclaimer:

Somebody probably did this already, but I want to give my own input (if some information is similar to another person, just know I did not copy or reference them)

Just my opinion, you’re allowed to have your own take on this.

Also some of these traits can turn off multiple characters as well as the ones I have yet to write for.

I am not good at spelling or grammar or proof reading, so please excuse me.

If anything I said offended anyone, please tell me so I will not repeat the same mistake twice

Having some of these traits is not an issue (such as low self esteem bc, same), but excessiveness is not good bc y’all great and amazing and somebody must tell you how awesome you are. 

Kaeya:

Overtly low self esteem (especially if you’re very vocal about it too)

Pessimistic

Mentally weak

Why I think so:

Kaeya technically do not have a single solid support beside him that he can fully trust and rely on, as his relationship with diluc is strained and he has always been putting up a front to the knights of favonius

A strong pillar where he can be openly vulnerable and fully honest will make him feel safer and stable in Mondstadt

Someone who openly deject themselves constantly in front of him, will reinforce his belief that you are inadequate in reassuring and protecting him from his own fears and insecurities (even if you’re abilities and strengths are actually greater than what you say you are. The important thing is that you are continuously enforcing the fact you’re inadequate due to low self esteem, which may perpetuate Kaeya’s own low self esteem and actually make him believe you are weak)

Kaeya will probably be forced to also put a mask of confidence he has as Calvary captain towards you, to balance out the relationship. He can only perform so long before this relationship deteriorates and he gets exhausted of standing on this stage of pretence publicly and privately.

Scaramouche:

Brutal and insensitive honesty

Lack of attention to detail/not reading between the lines

Self absorbed

Why I think so:

Some of these are kind of self explanatory lmao

Scaramouche is also another character who is deeply insecure and fears abandonment

His prickly and arrogant personality is a testament to those vulnerabilities

If you frankly comment on something mildly embarrassing he did, an error he happen to make, or maybe something wrong he said, he’ll be pissed off. As that means you clearly see him as an imperfect and flawed partner.

Openly commenting on his flaws with brutal honesty also shows that you don’t care about his extremely delicate dignity and self esteem he tried so hard to protect (basically he thinks you don’t respect him in anyway, in terms of his effort in building this strong facade)

Scaramouche is subtle with his words, mannerisms and affection, there’s a lot of reading between the lines and guessing his true intentions when pursuing a relationship with him.

If you don’t attempt to look at his underlying motives and desires, the relationship will probably progress frustratingly slow or not happen at all. He wants something but he doesn’t want to openly say it, it hurts his pride. He will not relent and admit his true thoughts and feelings, so a perceptive and understanding partner would be much appreciated.

The last one is kind of obvious but Scaramouche wants to be adored and cared for, given his history of isolation and rejection. It’ll bring him so much joy if his partner is caring and attentive to his feelings and wants. A selfish and inconsiderate partner will never be up his alley, after all it is just a repeat of his past and he doesn’t want any more pain and misery.

Albedo:

Lack of a passion or hobby

Unwillingness to try new things/lack of curiosity

Do not appreciate beauty of surroundings

Extremely bad temper/quick to anger 

Why I think so:

Another self explanatory one I’m sorry

It is canon Albedo is extremely passionate about the things he is interested in, and loses attention if he do not care for it.

A partner who do not have their own hobbies, passions or quirks won’t interest him at all, as he has nothing new to learn from you, and you do not motivate him in any way or form.

There really won’t be much conversation if the partner is not an eager learner, as Albedo can talk on and on about things he is interested in (and that’s how you get to know him), if you don’t ask, he won’t exactly say much either.

Albedo is an artist and I can assume he appreciates the beauty or interesting aspects of his environment, if his partner show an absence of curiosity or an eye for beauty for the mundane, or actually peculiar things in the environment, he would be… bored. He may even be frustrated you do not understand or appreciate the things he care about at that time. He wants to share all his joys and happiness with his significant other, but what is the point if his partner do not care for it?

Lastly, I think someone with a bad temper/quick to aggregate will turn him off. Albedo is used to looking after children, to him, only children succumb to such volatile emotions. If you start throwing a fit over small things, he will probably look at you blankly and begin to see you as childish for throwing a tantrum. Nobody wants to date a child, that’s illegal lmao.

#genshin impact #genshin kaeya #scaramouche #scara x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin albedo #genshin headcanons #kaeya x reader #albedo x reader #self insert #genshinimpact x reader

[liauditore]

LIAU MY BELOVED

ask game question

Jimmy x Martyn

:D

romeo asking for mirror birds in MY ask box?!!?!??!?!?! (i know u pref mirror birds but solidwood is too funny im so sorry)

ah yeah. these losers.

see, a lot of my thoughts surrounding these two would kind of spoil my own AU that i never make stuff for so im usually somewhat hesitant to talk about them but basically., (toxic!fh mention)

post-evo divorced property police is so real. ive always imagined it as a childhood friends situation, with martyn being a bit older than jimmy.

they probably caught feelings for eachother fairly late and already well into teenhood but neither of them were really sure what it was (this is maybe going a little bit into sexuality hc territory but ive always imagined jimmy as whatever the male equivalent of a useless lesbian is and martyns biphobic towards himself lmao).

i touched on this briefly in that one fic i wrote but i've always headcanoned martyn as being somewhat parentified and thus ties his worthiness to be loved into his ability to perform acts of service for someone rather than just.. existing and letting himself be loved.

so as jimmy became more independent, martyn becomes a bit more insecure about their friendship. this becomes a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy as he distances himself from jimmy, feeling like jimmy wouldn't love him if he didn't Need him, and jimmy in return feels confused and hurt as he helplessly watches someone he knew all his life drift away.

that + jimmy has this not-so-subtle crush on scott that martyn's always suspected. he's a jealous bitch.

The storm formed after a final sip, my fingertips frozen solid, I pretend that again I can see, you past the rails, ready to meet And I wonder is it too much to ask, to once more, hold you warm in my hands? To accept I can’t forget, and embrace what still fails to fade?

Milk Tea (Oktavia's translyrics) (because I wasn't kidding when I said these two were cheesy yuri to me lmao)

we had a clown to clown communication moment i think cus I also love the idea of them splitting up and meeting in Third Life years and years later (altho i like to imagine it as more of a voluntary separation).

some stuff copy+pasted from that cursed shipping doc i mentioned awhile back: ((scott + jimmy became a thing while martyn was gone pre-3L))

Now reuniting in 3L as fully grown adults after years apart, all those suppressed emotions come bubbling back up to the surface. An adult Martyn is much less unsure about what he's feeling and Jimmy still has those fantasies of what could have been playing on loop in his head. Of course, Jimmy is still attached to Scott and can't abandon his Bethrothed. He loves and knows what's best for him, he would sooner die than forsake his loyalty. But it does hurt when he hits him. Martyn still cares for Jimmy deeply, whether he wants to or not. He takes the time to keep an eye out for him, even though they had no real reason to interact anymore. He becomes one of the only people to realise what Scott was like with him, how devoid of love it all was. He throws out a line, offers to help him run away. Jimmy refuses. Betrayal. A second time. For the same man. Who cares about Jimmy anyway? (he always did take me for granted)

(a little note here before anyone sets me on fire - time works a bit differently in my writing and the players don't have exact ages but jimmy and martyn's age gap is probably not as dramatic as their cc counterparts)

(it's still there but neither of them even recognise their feelings as remotely romantic until they reunite as adults, as kids it's all just them being silly and having grade school drama with each other)

So uh yeah lots of mutual pining and suppressed feelings and puppy love turned angst👍 tis all i shall say cus i wanna make art of the rest lol

Just a second to lessen the ache, or minute to kiss it away I’d give all I have for the chance to go back to youth and you

#asks #ask games #trafficshipping #solidwood #mirror birds #martyn/jimmy #property police #why do these guys have like fifty names #martyns always been a bit boistrous but he starts getting rlly mean later towards jim :c

[bluejays-and-subways]

Emmet with an S/o who mimics the way he talks

Tws: Mentions of past bullying

I got hella excited and this came out a lot longer than I thought. Oops. Kinda made it more of a combo of a one shot and headcanons?? lowkey might make this a full mini fic if people like it enough lmao.

You had first met the subway boss when a Jotik scurried underneath your foot. You had almost stepped on the poor thing, stopping an inch or two above it. You then quickly scoped it up, holding it in your hands to avoid anyone else from harming the it. It snuggled into your hand, letting out a pitiful "Jol. . ." Before its eyes closed. It must have been exhausted, running around trying not to get stepped on.

You held the Joltik close to your chest as you walked over to one of the people standing by the subway car, instructing people left and right. He seemed to be some sort of boss, or at least a person in charge, based on the way he carried himself. He was rather cute, you supposed. He had kind grey eyes and a bright smile as he talked, but the more he talked, the more you noticed how he talked.

He must have noticed you staring, because he turned to look at you, giving you a smile. You noticed that he seemed tense, his smile straining as he talked to you.

"I am Emmet! You are staring. Do you need something?"

You blinked, a warm flush covering your face as you quickly sputtered out that you found a Joltik running around, and didn't want it to get hurt.

You had barely finished your sentence before the man was now in front of you, his grin relaxing. He reached his hands out and gently pet the Joltik on top of its head. He looked back at you, "I am Emmet! This is my Joltik. Thank you for finding her."

You gave him; gave Emmet a smile and happily returned his pokemon to him. He playfully teased the Joltik, and that's when you noticed another odd thing about how he spoke. When he said very, he drew out his r. It was adorable, admittedly. You had to hide your smile half behind your hand at the touching reunion.

You hesitated before holding out your hand, saying three simple words, "I am y/n."

From then on, the two of you would often times run into each other. You often took the subway to and from work, and always tried to make time to talk with Emmet. He had introduced you to his twin, Ingo shortly after, saying you were the one who reduced Jolly (Which you came to realize was one of his many, many joltiks).

The more you saw Emmet, the more you noticed you began to pick up on his mannerisms. Whenever he would greet you, saying "I am Emmet!" You would always reply back with "I am Y/n!". You even started dragging out the word very!

Mimicking people was something you had done all your life, more often with close friends and family than with people you had only known for a few months. He had never commented on the fact that you did this, and you were partly grateful for the fact. You had no idea how to tell him that you did it because you liked him, because you found how he talked endearing and sweet.

However, that eventually had to change.

The two of you were sitting on a bench. It was a rare moment where Emmet didn't currently have anything to do, and you had the afternoon off. He had been very quiet all day, and when you commented on it, he simply said, "I am Emmet. I do not like being made fun of. Are you making fun of me?"

His voice was so small, so quiet and he refused to meet your gaze. You felt your heart sink. Was he upset because of you?

When you asked him to elaborate, he took a deep breath, sparing a glance at you, "I know I talk weird. People have made fun of me for it all my life. They have always been verrrry mean. Are you making fun of me?"

You felt your heart sink into your chest. You quickly grasped his hands in your own, "I am-" You swallowed your words before letting out a shaky breath, "I like the way you talk. I think it's cute and endearing and so verrry you. I-I've always copied other people when they talk- when I like them and consider them a friend. I'm sorry Emmet, I should've told you about it. I'm verry sorry. Please forgive me."

He was very quiet for a moment before he spoke up, "Do you mean it? Do you like the way I talk?"

You nodded your head without a second thought. He brought you into a tight hug, burying his face into your shoulder as he wept softly. You held him as he cried, murming soft reassurances.

From then on the two of you became even closer. It was now custom to great each other by saying "I am Emmet" and "I am y/n"

He eventually picked up on small habits of your own, startling you one day when he said something you often said. He only gave you a cheeky smile when you stared at him.

Ingo is ecstatic when you and Emmet first go out, and is your number one supporter. He takes you to the side one day and thanks you for making his little brother happy, and that he happily considers you apart of his family as well.

When Emmet asks why you are all teary eyed, you simply say it's allergies.

#aaaaaaaaaaa #i should go to bed #its 5am and i havent slept since #actually did i sleep last night? #whoops #anyways onto the tags #this was cute to write tho #very fun #i have ideas for a full blown mini fic if the masses demand #and by masses i mean my one follower #Tags Jay TAGS #pokemon emmet #pokemon #pokemon emmet x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon submas #pokemon submas x reader #sumbas x reader

[wernerherzogs]

ALSO since i'm already talking, here are my final thoughts on td: night country if anyone still cares lmao. @highcampandmisdemeanors my apologies, this is basically a copy paste of what i wrote to you bc i'm lazy :D spoilers ahead:

- overall I liked s4 quite a lot, but I think s1 references hurt it as they made no sense in that place, and had only created plotholes (what were annie and the tsalal guy doing in that rv van if the TD universe taught us those dolls/etc. are associated with child abuse!!! why the writings/symbols on the walls!!!), what did fiona shaw's character know about the spiral and why didn't navarro question her immediately, etc. there was a disconnect between what we've been taught that imagery meant, and what was actually going down in that show. and the time is a flat circle quote just felt cheap. :/

- i always love magical realism/complex ontology of a world that goes beyond observable phenomena (y'all know how i love twin peaks), so i didn't mind that, and nic p dabbled in it himself (even though he always had a safe umbrella of a 'realism' to provide a possible explanation for that - rust's past in s1, characters approaching death in s2, wayne's sickness in s3), so whoever says those themes didn't fit the TD universe is wrong

- having said that, the execution of that wasn't great - the sound design was too overwhelming most of the time, hitting you over the head with the whispery noises and chants in a native language, and the way the apparitions spoke was sooo cringe 😭 it also kind of felt like the creators weren't sure till the very end if they actually wanted to Commit to them or not, although i think it ultimately works in show's favour - maybe navarro did simply inherit whatever her mother and sister had, and it's just a mental health issue (which is how nic p would have left things off as well lmao)

- ultimately what i loved the most about this season were the things that pretty much had nothing to do with the TD universe, namely the relationships!!!! whatever navarro and danvers had going on was super compelling, so was danvers' relationship with prior and her daughter, or navarro's with her sister and fiona shaw's character, and obviously prior's with his father, and so on

- basically, maybe this show actually shouldn't have been a TD show at all, but i did enjoy it overall, and i liked the ultimate explanation behind the mystery, i thought that fit the TD 'verse quite well!, especially the s3 finale. the acting was GREAT on all fronts, so was the arctic setting. the only nod to s1 i would've left was rust's dad thing, i thought that was cool, and i disagree that it retcons anything in s1, having freshly rewatched it (sure the agents say at some point that no one had seen rust's dad in 30 years lmao but who is 'no one'. cops? authorities? girl this is alaska <3 and rust might have used a trip excuse just as an alibi, sure, but so what?)

- music supervising/soundtrack choices were mostly tragic, i'm sorry to say. ): t bone burnett no one can get on your level

- bad cgi animals in shows must End

#can someone please remind me how to make a cut on mobile ☠️ #long post #also i'm sorry i'm not tagging this i don't want anyone from the show's tag to find me rip

[theliterarywolf]

The way people disavow major studios yet still almost exclusively consume media from them actually reminds me of the current community around the Sims 4.

Like there's been a lot of rushed, buggy, and lacking content lately, and folks are consistently talking about it. Yet I'll still see like "Oh wow that's not enough content for that price. Oh well, I'm still pre-ordering it lmao!"

It's really perplexing for me as someone who just won't pay money for media unless I really love it. I mean it might also be a side effect of me being a lifelong sailor of the high seas, but it means that when I DO pay for media it's almost always indie stuff, and I have more to spend on things I really want to support to begin with.

Is it really just the convenience factor? Do people have more of an issue with going through unofficial methods now?

I'm just really fascinated by folks that continuously support companies and such they clearly don't appreciate anymore

Bruh, what is going on with The Sims? I keep seeing people saying that all the new games have been ass but are still buying them AND all the content packs?

I honestly don't know why people still preorder games.

And I'm not talking about Wishlisting a TBA title on Steam, I'm not talking about buying a bundlepack the day of release, I'm talking about people dropping full price before a game comes out.

Because not only has the past decade or so in gaming shown us that you're essentially telling Triple A companies that all their crunch and fractured release plans are A-okay... Most preorder 'bonuses' aren't shit, I'm sorry. I still remember that criminal preorder stunt GameFreak pulled with ScarVio.

And, yes, I know that other regions had the special edition statue as their preorder bonus, but the fact that that wasn't universal doesn't help

I will say this, though, to connect this back to mainstream movies and television: a lot of people just... Don't know how to sail the seven seas. That combined with the fact that certain sites go down or get infected with malware all the time has kind of made this environment where piracy has gone from an open secret to people doing moral grandstanding about 'You can't pirate that content*! Think of the poor studios!'

(*The only time I'll say this is for independently published books. Especially since a good chunk of indie writers will gladly drop you a free copy in exchange for a thorough review or something)

Because, as I've mentioned before, the vast majority of piracy isn't a matter of not wanting to pay but a matter of not having a means of access to do so.

I'll once again bring up a personal example: I wanted to watch Turning Red last year but I refuse to get a Disney+ account. I pirated it, ended up liking what I saw, and when the Blu-ray came out, I purchased it.

But you have so many people going 'Wow, can't believe this studio won't stop making shitty movies! I'm going to go buy a ticket to see how shitty this movie is! Wow, this movie sure was shitty! Wow, can't believe the shitty movie just got confirmed for a sequel, how did this happen~?'