#actually no thats a lie i watched Stakes. was that before or after the finale

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

finally have the motivation to finish the 3+ shows im in the middle of so i can do an adventure time rewatch + watch fiona and cake

#all the atposting is getting to me........ i miss it sm i havent properly watched it since . i think since the finale actually. fuck #that was what. 2018? 2017? #actually no thats a lie i watched Stakes. was that before or after the finale #MAN IDK. ITS BEEN A LONG TIME. #im on the last season of castlevania. god this is a rough watch i am going 2 need the sillies after this . #like its good but also . man. #shits fucked !

[aphroditesmoon]

heyy for the clarisse head cannons, maybe a enemies to lovers w clarisse

enemies to lovers hcs with clarisse

clarisse la rue x fem!reader

warnings: fighting, mild violence, kissing.

- I feel like you would probably be in athena cabin or hermes, (or whichever ur prefer)

- clarisse has a lot of people who hate her, but no one brave enough to challenge he, until she met you.

- the two of you match eachother's skills, and it's frustrating for clarisse to admit that you're actually good.

- "you really think you're all that, don't you?"

- "of course not, we both know no ones better than you, clarisse."

- you probably meant it literally, but everyone watching laughs anyway.

- everytime you spar with her, its not because you want to humiliate her but simply because you're intrigued by clarisse.

she was an angry, violent girl, and you wondered deep down if that was the only side of her that existed.

- she doesn't know that ofc.

- she thinks everytime you try to be funny or nice to her, you're just being patronizing.

- for example, when you tell her she's not that bad or try to help her up after you win she's sure that you meant it in a mocking way.

- that was until she got beef with the new kid percy jackson and he broke her spear 💀

- when you found her alone in the ares cabin while everyone's eating dinner, you tried to comfort her. she doesn't appreciate the notion.

- "you shouldn't have went after him, clarisse." you told her.

- "how was I supposed to know he was a son of the big three?" she snapped back, refusing to look anywhere else but atnthe spear.

- the cabin was sileny for a moment before yoi spoke again, "maybe you could give it over to the haphaestus kids, they could fix it."

- "this is a magical spear, not a normal one." she answers back.

- she assumed you came to gloat, to tell her she deserved it, to call her a bully like everyone else did, but she was weirdly comforted by your presence instead. she didn't have to lie or pretend to be strong in front of you, something she learned of after a few months in of sparring with you is that you wouldn't hit someone during their weakest.

- "I remember the first gift my mom/dad gave me when I first got here. a knife, It meant so much to me, but I didn't know that it wasn't invincible, I broke it while trying to pull it out of a tree after I accidentally staked it into."

- clarisse was quiet for a moment before turning to you with a frown and said: "that's so stupid."

- you smiled at her and nodded your head. "yeah it was." she smiled back at you and shook her head. "I can't believe thats the same person who beat my ass last week."

- your eyes widened. "I can't believe you're actually admitting that I've beat your ass." she scoffed at that.

- "how did it end up in the tree anyways?" She asked. you blinked for a few times and reluctantly responded, "I tried to carve my name onto the tree." you could tell clarisse was so baffled by it that she wanted to laugh, but instead she just stared at you with her mouth wide open.

- "thats-" "stupid, yeah, you already said that."

- "carving your name on a tree? really? what, were you 10 years old or something?"

- you were 10. "I was 10 actually." "oh." her face relaxed, all of it finally making sense.

- "anyways, what I mean is, at least your spear went out in a fight. I'm sure your father must be really proud of you."

- clarisse looked away immediately, as if the idea of her father at all, hurted her.

- "you know nothing about my father."

- you shrugged and sat next to her on her bed. "I don't, but I know you. and I'd say you did pretty damn well.".

- you expected her to snap at you again, that was her thing, confronted by kindness or any kind of empathy, fight or flight. but instead she smiled sadly at you. "you think so?"

- you answered yes and inched closer to her. "everyone at camp is either scared of you, or they respect you. that respect didn't come out of nowhere."

- clarisse nodded her head, staring back down at the spear on her lap. "do you really think they can fix it?"

- "it's worth a try." you told her.

- the next time you see her was the following day after she and the other cabin leaders were gathered together for Percy to choose for his quest.

- you noticed she still tries ti act cold with you, but she was less meaner than before.

- "chiron gathered the best of the best to join the quest." she had told you when you asked her where she went.

- "and he asked you to be there?"

- "what, you don't think im good all of the sudden?" she asks, glaring at you.

- you rolled your eyes at her. "I know you're good, but I also know that you tried to kill Percy yesterday, not exactly team spirit is it?"

- she considered it for a moment and shrugged. "who cares, at least that punk will be gone for a while. everything can go back to normal." you follow her as she walked out of the cabin with a normal spear.

- "normal as in?"

- "normal as in, I'm going to kick your ass."

- the two of you sparred for an hour and a half, you wont say that you were holding back today, but you weren't exactly giving her your all. you liked to see the eay she smiled everytime she won, even if it was annoyingly smug.

- that same night, rumors were going around that clarisse was going soft. breaking her infamous spear, befriending her nemesis.

- "we're not friends," she told her cabin siblings. "It's not my fault she's obsessed with me."

- when word got out about what she said, you decided that maybe trying to get to know clarisse was a bad idea. not really being the confrontational kind of person, you just stopped talkiing to her.

- it was a few days later when she went out of her way to find you. all the cabins were in disarray. they were all choosing sides between zeus and poseidon after the news broke that the two powerful gods we're against eachother.

- uncharacteristically, clarisse aided with poseidon. she weighed her choices as cabin leader and daughter of ares and decided it was the best option

- (if you're a daughter of athena) then, you sided with zeus. athena is known to having feud with the god poseidon, and you would side your mother.

- (if you're in the other cabins), then you just use the feud as an excuse to not talk to her, claiming that all kinds of provocative interaction should be kept om a liminal time.

- clarisse found you in the bathroom and tried to get you to listen to her.

- "you're saying that this feud bothers you so much that you've just completely stopped talking to me?"

- "I think, that I'd like to stop being so obsessed with you, considering it was you who said that you wanted me out of your hair."

- she chased after you as you walked out of the bathroom and pulled you to the side.

- " I didn't mean it that way." she was lying and you both knew that.

- "you know what your problem is clarisse? you care so much of what other people think of you, what their perception of you is like. people who wouldn't blink twice if you were in danger. but what about the people who do care about you? the people who want to keep caring about you?"

- your words caught her off guard, she knew it was her fault but she didn't think as far as you had said.

- "I care about you too." she says honestly.

- "you don't hurt people you care about." and she knew that. she knew what it felt like to be scorned and hated by the person you love. and clarisse la rue, will not be like her father.

- "give me one chance to make it up to you, let us start over again." she pleaded.

- you might resent her for what she had done, but that doesn't mean you're immune to her wishes. "one chance."

- "one chance." she agreed.

- the next day, while everyone was out practising, she finda you helping a younger girl in your camp with her stance in fighting and called you to the side.

- "I got something for you." she said.

- the two of you walked a bit further away from other people but she stopped and pull out something from her pocket.

- "the haphaestus kids couldn't fix my spear, but I did get them to work out something new for you."

- it was a knife, similar to your old on2, but the engraved heart shape on the black holder was different. The holder was made if rubbee, easier to grip, and the tip was sharper than anything you've seen.

- "this is for me?" she nodded and placed it into your right palm.

- "it's not magical, but it'll be useful."

- you did not hesitate to pull her by the back of her head to lean down and meet your lips halfway.

- and she did not hesitate to wrap her own arms around your nwck and waist to kiss you back just as strongly.

- "I'm gonna get laughed at for this aren't I?" she muttered against your lips as she pulls away slightly.

- "not something you can't handle." you decided with a small smile on your lips.

- "right, definitely not something I can't handle." she agreed.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #the lightning thief #dior goodjohn #wlw

[akvtsuki-ari]

A Study In Body Language| iii. angel wings

Warnings: talks of trauma, drug use and addiciton, broken childhood, general talk of loss and sadness, general sad tw 

Length: 4.5k 

Authors Note: this fic is really my pride and joy. this chapter is heavy and honest and i hope you all like it. thanks for sticking with me as always and i hope everyone ejoys. much love <33

Plot Summary: You’ve been taking care of Spencer and living with him on and off for a few months, and tonight was supposed to be any other night but it wasn’t. You and Spencer speak honestly for the first time, and Spencer thinks he sees wings on your back. No more walls, no more secrets. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 

You were getting a little too accustomed to the company of Spencer Reid. After that first night, you’d stop by every day and depending on the situation, some nights - no, many nights, you’d sleepover. The morning sun would shed your worries away as you hear Spencer asleep in the other room. You slept less than Spencer at this point, but he was constantly exhausted, so who could blame him. The mental toll of addiction was blooming, and more often than not you worried about his relapse. Some days were better than others, but the night was always difficult. Full of darkness, and silence, and overthinking. 

It had been two months, on and off of living in Spencer's apartment for temporary amounts of time. Everywhere he went there were traces of you, the smell of your shampoo and soap, or your laundry folded up neatly, or grocery lists you wrote in cutesy stationery. Your house was in a similar condition - with traces of Spencer's existence there though he’d never actually set foot in your apartment. His clothes, mostly. Old books he gave you to read, as a small and unspoken repayment. Little reminders of the other person just seemed to pop up everywhere and neither of you really spoke about it. Not if you didn’t have too. 

It was two months like that before tonight happened - what would have normally been another normal night. You made dinner or ordered takeout if you were too tired. The two of you would make small talk, small bits and pieces of intimacy in many ways unknowing, falling onto the floor in front of you, for the other person to pick up. Then the sun would rise, and you’d take care of your personal life while Spencer tried slowly but surely to reintegrate. This was normal for both of you. 

Two months of living on and off with another person accustom you a lot to their inconsistencies. Sometimes it was glaringly obvious when something was wrong, like now. When the knock on Spencer's door lingers for a few seconds too long and you can feel the tidal waves crash and go to shit. When your heart pounds in fear as you use the key to unlock the door and see a needle missing on the desk and know. It was the small pains, the growing pains that hurt the most when you and another person share the same quiet space. 

It hurt most to see Spencer so exhausted. It was killing him and he was letting it, but he was trying. Something happened, surely it did but what? He was getting better even if it was slow but something made him look to the needle before he looked to you and maybe that was the hardest part. That all the walls both of you forcibly kept up may be a reason he got here in the first place. You didn’t have time for heartache, because for now you just didn’t know. You didn’t know of the circumstances, or evidence, or even if he didn’t overdose and those things are the darkest. 

When you see Spencer Reid, staring into the ceiling high out of his mind, you don’t really know how to feel other than sad. You’re not crying, you’re not in pain, you’re just sad. You wish you were angry because anger is such a simple and uncomplicated emotion but you could never be. It was just sad. For a lot of reasons, but just that at the end of the day. 

You sat next to Spencer, placing your bags on the floor. You leaned on the coffee table, taking his temperature. He looked over at you, wincing but smiling. You can’t blame him for chasing his happiness, you suppose. Your hand rests on his forehead for a few seconds as you watch him in silence. He just looks up at the ceiling, eyes flitting with nothingness as he lays there, unmoving.

“What happened, Spencer?,” your voice isn’t solemn. He appreciates that you’re genuinely just asking him a question. His eyes fall onto your expression, and he looks carefully at all your features. A feeling of adoration stir in his chest, his hands reaching out to touch your face and you let him. He figures its the high talking, so he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you - and touches you, afraid that if he doesn’t you’d disappear and he wasn’t ready for that yet. His fingers shake when he moves them. But they still as soon as he touches your skin. 

“JJ called, and asked me how I was,” he laughs. It’s not a genuine laugh, because you’ve heard Spencers genuine laugh and it sounds different. Less throaty, and more like an uproar. 

“I hate lying to them, hah. I do it all the time, but every time it comes with this regret. This time the lie is so bad, I might never tell them,” he muses. You hold his wrist and pull off from it. He looks at you curiously but you lock fingers with him instead and that seems to ease him. 

You just look at him for a few seconds. You don’t have much to say that he doesn’t already know because well, that's just the thing. The two of you still don’t know much at all. You wish it were as simple or well-thought-out as destiny but it wasn’t. It was careful considerations to make sure that things never got too close. That ultimately, both of you could leave this situation behind someday with nothing more than solidarity. Neither of you tried, to tear down any walls or breakthrough any barriers. You sat stagnant, on opposite sides of the same concrete wall and just spoke, or knocked, or otherwise. Each of you just trying to make sure the other survived the darkness. You can’t help but feel it was your fault, that maybe if you were JJ for him, he wouldn’t feel so compelled to break but the notion is flawed. 

It sounds complicated because it is. It takes a level of stubbornness from every party to spend two months with someone and scrape by without at least being friends. You were close, but not friends. If there was a word for that, then this was it.  

“Don’t leave tonight, please,” his voice is dry when he says it. It sounds like he can’t bear too but he does anyway and the request is a surprise. You just nod, staring at him. Trying to figure out how to just exist in something so complicated. 

“Tell me, something, Y/N,” he poses the questions, turning his whole body to face you. You read his expression and he laughs at your confusion. 

“Nothing, in particular, we don’t really do very good at honest conversations, do we?,” he smiles when he says it. You can’t help but smile back, recognition of his words to be true. You just look to him, his body language is so relaxed and quiet. It’s a little unnerving how much you don’t recognize him but whose fault was that? It’s hard to say his or yours. No sway in either direction.

You don’t really know why or how it happens. You don’t know if it’s the way he looks at you so warmly, or the way his hands hold yours so tight like your the last thing he has to hold onto. It was like the two of you had forgotten the whole world, genuinely forgotten it and this was all that was left. Both of you just holding onto the other person, the person who’d walk with you through the darkness without intention and now you were both here. It wasn’t time because it never would be. It would never be the right time to stop being so stubborn, but sometimes the universe aligns in a way where it makes the most sense to not be. None of it ever made any sense but how could it?

“I’m sick of playing this game, Y/N, and you are too. It’s stupid, and it doesn’t have to mean anything but we keep letting it. It keeps meaning something and that’s why you’re still here. So what does this mean to you?,” Spencer's question isn’t aggressive, or unwarranted. He’s right, thats the part that's most difficult. 

He was right. Two months of being together, living together, talking together and still the both of you were here. At some point, the moral obligation stopped, at some point, the emotions didn’t make sense - at some point, there was no need for either party to keep going. But you did, and neither of you knew when the end was. At some point, this was something more than a moral obligation. It had personal stakes, rooted in fear, love, and acceptance. Stakes from personal places that neither of you ever talked of. Always just managed to avoid it. 

“I asked you two months ago, so know I’m asking again. Why’re you here?,” Spencer asks, looking at your expression. You look to him for reassurance and he gives it to you before you settle and go to tell him why - or really who. 

“His name was Michael. He was a brother to me, and when I was little - he always got me out of trouble. He showed me what it meant to live, and to be alive. He taught me how to fight, he taught me how to love, and he showed me how to be kind. Every lesson I learned, he taught me. When the addiction finally caught up with him, he gave me a note. Told me thank you for everything, and that he was sorry. Sorry he couldn’t fight away the demons anymore and told me to remember to be kind. That, that would change the world someday. That’s the short version anyway,” you spoke solemnly. You weren't sure when you started crying, but Spencer started wiping tears off your face. 

It was the first time anyone on the team had ever heard of the story. They knew things about you, of course they did but you always kept that part of you. It made you, all of you but you didn’t want so many people to know all of you. Just not yet anyways. It was such a dark part of you, and maybe part of you believes that if you keep it away - they wouldn’t have to carry the burden of sympathy with them. You didn’t want sympathy; you didn’t want anyone to know just how fucked up your life used to be because it took you so long to grow from that. You’re afraid of unpacking something that you spent so many years compartmentalizing. 

“Shit, sorry,” you say softly. Spencer just looks at you. 

“I didn’t really have much family, my mom passed away when I was young and my dad isn’t really around - he took me in, but he’s a piece of shit. It was the neighborhood that raised me, I made trouble but who didn’t? I have plenty of people back home who are family but there’s no blood relation,” You explain. Spencer nods, a little tired.  

“I was pretty isolated as a kid, so I kinda get it,” he explains. You give him a smile. 

“It’s different, and I know how hard it was for you. You shouldn’t diminish that,” you explain warmly. Spencer cries this time, which is certainly unexpected. You wipe his tears. 

“Michael took me under his wing when he was volunteering at the community center. He said I reminded him of someone, never told me who. Every time I go home that center is the first place I go,” you say softly, recalling home fondly. Spencer listens to you intently. 

“It housed a lot of addicts and homeless folks. So now, I just know when something is wrong. I know what to do, and what to look for. Every person has a different reason and story, so sometimes there's no time to do everything you can. Sometimes a hot meal and a shower, and that one night of comfort is the most you can do for someone. Because ultimately, you can’t force them to recover. You can only give them the tools to try,” you explain, recalling your life back home. A part of yourself that only Hotch really knew, because it was always so hard to talk about. 

“I’ve seen it all, you know? The whole world is sick so what do you do? For me, I just try my best to do what I can. The BAU, and life back home, all of it. I just try my best because it’s all I can do,”  your voice is gentle when you say the last part. Spencer's throat is closing up as he stops himself from crying. He sees what everyone else must’ve seen before. It’s hard to not be moved by you. 

“What do you do when it’s not enough?,” he asks quietly. You’re startled by the question but you pet his hair for a second. 

“Your best is always enough. It’s foolproof because there isn’t anything you can do after your best. So when it feels like my best isn’t enough, I try to remember that there wasn’t anything more to do. It’s hard but it’s how you stay afloat. When it becomes personal, it’ll gnaw on your soul till there's nothing left, so I try so hard to make sure it doesn’t get that way,”  you explain soothingly. The last part sticks on Spencer's conscious mind but he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“You know, we never talked about the first night you were,” Spencer croaks. You look at him for a second, pausing and taking in his words. You didn’t, and it never occurred to you that maybe you should. 

“Would you like to?,”

Spencer just smiles. You take that as a yes. 

“You’re different when you’re like that, and like this,” you’re the first to talk about it. Spencer just looks at you knowingly. 

You put on Harry Potter and waited for Spencer to come out of the shower. Everything was going surprisingly well and when Spencer popped his head out of the bathroom to ask for a towel - you had earned yourself a little faith that maybe this would turn out okay. 

It was short-lived, really. Spencer comes, and sits, and eats. But he isn’t hungry, and he slept for a while but he doesn’t think he will ever again and his breathing becomes unhinged. The folly into what should’ve felt inevitable. It was the first time you’d ever seen Spencer in such a state, unready and willing but destined to fall apart. 

You got him to eat, and to sleep - but the night was going to fall any time soon and he was losing his mind. Moving constantly, walking and pacing, and sighing. He couldn’t hold himself any longer, couldn’t fathom the idea of being alive. Of course, it hurts too. It hurts when you don’t take it and it hurts when you do, so for a while, you and Spencer are just stuck. You’re watching him fold into himself and you’re just a little unsure. 

Spencer sits to read and his hands are shaking. Harry Potter long forgotten, the lasagna foiled wrapped, and the city dark. The world had stopped it felt like but Spencer couldn’t stop shaking. His finger trembles every time he turned the page and an exasperated sigh fell from his lips. He just wanted to focus on anything but the feeling that made his skin feel so hot and prickly. 

You sit next to Spencer and silently take the book from his hands. You hold his hands together and put the book away and you walk to lock his doors and turn of his lights. He looks at you curiously as you pack things away and tidy up. You grab a pillow and some blankets and sit on the couch next to him before you lay down, pulling his shoulder down towards you. He’s little spoon, eyes terribly confused and face flustered. You just braid his hair and lay with him for a while. Eventually, it’s so quiet, he stops shaking. He’s too confused to be upset so he relaxes instead. You’re silent the whole time and he falls asleep in your arms, unsure but happy to be anywhere but in his own head

“Why did you do that?,” Spencer asks first. You look to his eyes as he asks for your recognition and answers. 

“The easy answer was that you needed it. We’re human, we all need to be held sometimes,” you explain. 

“What's the hard answer?.” Spencer always managed to notice those things. The small things that most people wouldn’t catch. 

“That I wanted too,” you look over to him as you answer his question and he gives you a small smile. He nods a bit - eyes hazy and just nods. Spencer looks distantly for a while, comfortable silence falling into the air as the both of you sit and think. 

“I stopped having nightmares after that night,” Spencer confesses. You must look very surprised, Spencers chuckle soothing to your ears as he glances at your face. 

“You were having nightmares?,” you query carefully. He gestures a yes as he stares up at the ceiling, hands, moving to lay on his back, finding your hands as he looks up. You accept it and Spencer gives it a squeeze. 

“They stopped after, and I haven’t had one since you started living here part time,” Spencer admits to you in good faith. You laugh at the part-time comment and Spencer does too. 

Silence again. The longest pause between the two of you as you look at everything in the room but each other. Spencer's expressions fall between being completely relaxed to tense, mind running a million miles at an hour though physically he was relaxed. The drugs never fixed anything, it becomes clearer as he comes down from a high but he feels better. He guesses your the reason and he can’t help but smile to himself. How ridiculous. 

You were in an odd place now it seemed. It was dark outside, though, not your average darkness. It wasn’t the kind that was eldritch - full of shadowy beings and abyss. It was the kind that just seemed to be. It was comforting in it’s own right but maybe that’s just because you were sharing that darkness with someone, someone who you didn’t hate. Someone who understood you, in all the complicated and broken pieces that you came with. Someone who wasn’t trying to fix you, but reframe you in his own mind so that things made sense. Spencer just wanted to make sense of you. 

“This is so complicated, you know that?,” You announce. Spencer hums in agreement. 

“We’re complicated people,” 

“What else do you wanna talk about?,” you ask Spencer, figuring that there was only one way this could really go. The night was the only place confessions could be heard, and you figure tonights the night. It’s really like you read Spencer's mind because he wants to ask you so many questions. Maybe it's a little by default that you know so much about him but he didn’t know anything about you it seemed. You were shrouded in too much mystery and maybe that’s what made him so suspicious of you back then - like he couldn’t accept your outright kindness because he always figured you had some bigger play. It was gut-wrenching to learn you were simply kind. Unabashedly kind, and you had your own reasons but most of them were simply because you were you. He was starting to see light in you, and every time he uncovered a piece there's more of that blinding light - falling onto his face and filling it with warmth. The kinda that pricks his skin after being surrounded by the cold for so long. Maybe it was selfish to find it like this, unfair to uncover you after all this time. He couldn’t help himself, the warmth was a feeling too addicting to stop searching for. 

He feels this pang of guilt, but he knows he needs to say it before he asks anymore question. 

“I’m sorry,”

You don’t need to ask. You know what he’s apologizing for because in the last few months you’ve learned a lot about how Spencer thinks and what he does. It’s everything that the two of you shared that he’s saying sorry for. You don’t need him to apologize but you accept it. 

“Me too,” 

Silence is the loudest voice in the room. 

“Why’d Hotch let you off work?,” the question is sudden but doesn’t feel that way.

“My dad is sick and I don’t know how I feel about it. I’ve been calling home and the neighbors a lot to make sure he’s okay cause I’m not all that sure I wanna see him. I don’t feel anything for him, but it’s sad to see him crumble,” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Spencers voice shakes. That’s troubling but here you still were, watching over him almost needlessly. He knows it was your choice to do it but the way he’s been acting towards you just seemed so unwarranted now. It was okay, really it was but he couldn’t help the guilt that ate at him. You just shake your head, stopping him in his train of thought. 

“It’s okay, Spencer. Really it is, shit happens,” you seem tired, likely because you are. It’s 4am and though you don’t have anywhere to be the conversation of such an emotional scale was getting to you. It was exahusting but you tried your best to keep up with the sleep that was threatening to swallow you. 

More quietness. This time it feels affectionate. Spencer turns his body to face you, his eyes hanging over the way your lids flutter shut with sleep. He’d yell at you to go to bed normally, sometimes he’d catch you awake when you’d sleepover and do just that. But he knew that the conversation wasn’t over - the elephant in the room was still hanging over the both of you and it was just a matter of who would decide to answer the question because the two of you just can’t keep moving like this.

 At some point, you would have to both fall away from this reality that you share. Neither of you wanted to, it was unspoken but, this was nice. It was comfortable, though difficult and at times clinical. It was an escape from everything because every night the both of you ended up next to each other speaking in whispers and watching tv together. Nothing but that. Nothing more or less. You wished it could go on forever, and you hoped he did too but it couldn’t. Two months just wasn’t enough time to escape. But time was up, and if this didn’t prove that then what would? It wasn’t Spencer's relapse as much as it was why he relapsed in the first place. JJ was a reminder, and even though he’d gotten calls before, it broke him this time. It was one time too many, and it meant that time for this had run out. Before this break was gone forever, you two were just trying to find some closure.

You straighten your back out, as look at Spencer. He looks at you, as the two of you make comfortable eye contact. It’s not unnatural, or weird, or tense. You give him a genuine smile and he returns it. Nothing is left to hide so for a second the two of you just enjoy each other's company.  For maybe the first time, it’s not so secretive. It just is. 

“What do we do?,” Spencer chuckles. You shrug, sitting up straight. 

“Well, you should go to rehab, and I should probably go back home,” You say sleepily. Spencer doesn’t disagree with you but it’s difficult for him to admit it. 

“It helps if we’re both brave. So, after this, we can hold each other accountable, and be friends” You clarify. Spencer smiles brightly, his high finally having left him. He’s exhausted now, but he sits up. You stand up too, going to the kitchen. Spencer's eyes follow you as he looks at you curiously. 

“I’m gonna make some coffee, we can sleep in the morning but we should probably start looking at centers. And I need to book a flight back home,” You state. Spencer relaxes and fights the urge he has to hold you. Look into your eyes and say thank you for everything. He figures he has all the time in the world for that now and hopes recovering will be the best thank you of all. He hopes it will be enough. 

He hopes he’s enough for you. 

___

The sun was blinding, even past the curtains it was warm and inviting. The shadow of your laptop danced along Spencers coffee table - as two mugs sat next to it for company. It was a little cliche, the way the birds chirped and the sound of the city just seemed to be so still in the morning. Well, not morning - 3pm. You and Spencer didn’t sleep all night, so really you went to bed around when it was morning.

Spencer's chest rose and fell, as your sleeping figure was draped on top of him. It’s unclear how the two of you fell asleep like that, but at least this time it felt final. He was warm, and the way his hands rested on your back made you sleep easier. The weight of you on top of him made him relax - as if he knew he could always keep you safe from now on. Who knows if you’d ever talk about it, because when you wake up this will all be over. But the memories will always be there - and if you don’t talk about it, you’ll always have an excuse to come by, even if you didn’t need it anymore. 

You booked Spencer sometime in a rehab facility and scheduled an appointment with a therapist for him. It took all night because Spencer was rather picky about scheduling, but you didn’t mind. You booked a flight back home, and Spencer offered to go with you. You declined but you said maybe when you visit home for a happy reason he can come.

Now you’d both have reasons, just in case those stubborn feelings returned. 

The universe knew better, always did. It was too late for needing reasons by now, but it’d be a long time before either of you figured that out. That maybe friendly affections weren’t so friendly, and that at the end of the day both of you ignored the simple things. 

After all, this is a case study in body language. How it changes and grows when your heart opens to someone. 

It’s said when you’re in love with someone, their eyes dilate because of chemicals in the brain. 

Spencer's eyes were always blown out when he wakes up, but you figure he must be tired. 

Right? 

_____

taglist: @cynbx @zephyr-studiesjp @skrrrrrrrrrrt​ @louistwinslover​ @pastanest​ @nomajdetective​ @iamburdened​ @secretlyablueunicorn​

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #crimnal minds angst #mannnn #i love this fic sm its my whole heart #would mean the world to me if yall read it #sighs contently

[jrpneblog]

Memories, what memories.

Fifty years ago on Saturday I experienced my greatest high watching our famous club. It took place in London on a Beautiful Spring day by the banks of the Thames. More of that later as first we must concentrate on the matters in hand with an excellent win at Coventry last Saturday and the visit of play-off achievers, Barnsley, to Deepdale on Saturday for our final home game of the season. Please God let this be the last home game ever played at Deepdale when no fans will be there to cheer the boys on.

Last Saturday we mathematically made ourselves safe from relegation and by the time Monday had come I was trying to work out if we could make the top half of the league or not if results went our way. North End beat and in form Sky Blues by one goal to nil scored by Captain Alan Browne and I think on the day North End deserved the victory. Coventry play a lovely brand of football and it is a credit to Mark Robins what he has done for them given the almost impossible circumstances surrounding the club. North End won with a stonewall penalty midway through the second half nicely put away by Browne. To be fair we should have had another but thats another story. The win left North End on fifty five points with two games to go and the real fear after the Luton defeat at home had dissipated.

On Saturday we face Barnsley at Deepdale in our final home game of the season. It has been so tough watching the boys on a computer and hopefully this will be the last time. The Tykes have done an excellent job in finishing in the top six and they have proved that money isn't everything in the Championship and their achievement should really give North End some inspiration for the next campaign. This is one of those game that you just cant judge who will do what. Will Frankie try a couple of fringe players with next season in mind or will he stick with his tried and trusted system and try to make his case to get the job full time stronger. With Barnsley you wonder will they try and keep going for fourth place to get the second semi final leg at home of will they rest one or two of the key players for the big play off games that lie ahead. I think it will either be a very boring 0-0 draw or might be a real full bloodied encounter. Lets hope its the latter.

And finally this week:-   Indulge me as I take a personal trip down Memory Lane and to an event which now seems a lifetime away. The date is Saturday 1st May 1971 and the venue is Craven Cottage, home of Fulham Football Club, in West London. The game is Fulham v Preston North End and with the home side already promoted the Football league have brought the Third Division trophy to the game to present to Fulham after they have duly won the encounter. For Alan Ball`s Preston there is a chance of automatic promotion as North End sit three points clear of their only rivals, Halifax, with just two games to play (2 points for a win in those days). The equation is quite simple for Preston - win the game and we are promoted back to the second tier at the first attempt after being relegated 12 months earlier by Blackpool at Deepdale. I cried that night as a nine year old and thought the world had ended after my beloved North End had dropped into the third division for the first time ever. Just ten years after Sir Tom had retired and we were down with the also rans. The day started around 5.30am as I excitedly scurried about bursting with anticipation and anxiously asking my Dad was it time to set off for the coach. Fishwicks ran two coaches to the game from Leyland and they were to depart at 7am prompt with the long journey to London ahead of us.Finally the clock ticked round to 6.40 and we set off on the 10 minute walk to Fishwicks to catch the coach that would take us to our destination. London seemed like the other side of the world to me and as we passed Charnock Richard I thought that we must be getting close as we had been on the road for ages. My Dad and my Uncle chatted to the others on the bus as I just looked out of the window hoping to spot a blue motorway sign saying London. We stopped at Keele for half an hour and my excitement grew as there were hundreds of other North End fans on the same pilgrimage. Off we go with the next stop being Watford Gap. Even more North End fans who were singing and shouting and even though we were 90 miles from Fulham the atmosphere was starting to build. Finally I saw a sign “London 44”, we were getting nearer as Lunchtime approached and we hit the North Circular Road to take us towards Hammersmith. It must have taken us half an hour in those days to do the mile and a half from Hammersmith to Craven Cottage as the traffic was horrendous.At last we are there and are met with a buzzing around this famous old ground the likes of which I had never heard before. The crowd was officially recorded at 25,774 but it seemed almost like Wembley on Cup Final day with the chaos and noise around the ground. The queues to get in were massive but my Uncle Charlie could get where water couldn`t get (God rest his soul). Suddenly he burst out - “stay there, Stan” (to my Dad), I will be back in a few minutes. Incredibly he was back in no time with three stand tickets for the Stevenage Road stand right in the middle of the Fulham fans. Most of the North End fans were on the open Putney End but there were pockets of Blue and White all over the place. We are in and as the clock ticks round the teams run out separately at 2.55 with North End playing in Red.The Teams are announced, Fulham first then North End …. Kelly Ross McNab Bird Hawkins Spavin Heppolette Ham Lloyd Spark and Clark, with Dave Wilson as sub. John Gow from Swansea is referee and the game kicks off to a thunderous roar as North End are cheered by about 5,000 fans.The game is cagey but quite open and North End are holding their own kicking towards the Hammersmith End in the first half. Twenty two minutes gone and North End get a corner on the right hand side. Clive Clark jogs over and takes an in-swinger which Norrie Lloyd flicks on to Ricky Heppolette who gives North End the lead with a diving header into the Fulham net. The Putney end goes mad and all round the ground the satellite groups of North End fans are dancing with delight. Fulham counter quickly but Bird and Hawkins see them off like two rocks in the middle of the North End defence. Half time comes and goes as the Preston fans start daring to dream, can we do it against the odds at the home of the league leaders. North End are on the back foot in the second half but only really have one scary moment as Fulham throw everything forward. Five minutes to go, four, three, two, one, “TIMES UP” my Dad announces to the world as half the stand give him a look of disgust. How long will Mr Gow add on as North Ends slender lead remains intact? All eyes on the man in black as the whistle goes to his mouth Yeeessss…….ah No, wait, the whistle hasn`t blown and Fulham have the ball. Suddenly, from nowhere, the long shrill blow of the three whistles and we`ve done it - yes we`ve done it, Preston are back. Alan Ball runs on to the pitch and kisses the turf as the Championship Trophy quickly disappears from out of the stand. The Putney End is going berserk and me and my Dad and my Uncle are hugging each other amid a crowd of home supporters looking slightly mystified as to why the plan has not worked out. The North End players hug and congratulate but its not euphoria just a job done by the late great Alan Ball and his boys. We come down the steps to the stand entrance and our coach is the first one we see among about 60 others the length of Stevenage Road.Its 5.50 before we move an inch but nobody seems to care as the singing goes on and on until we finally make our way back up the M1. By the time we reach Coventry it is well past 8pm but the coach is thirsty and its an ale stop for the adults and pop and crisps for the ten or so kids on the bus who are entertained by a jovial coach driver. Finally we get back to Leyland, it`s Midnight but nobody seems to care as the streets echo to the sound of “Preston, Preston” and the road back to the second division is finally complete. Without actually trying to count them I have probably seen over 2,000 North End games since then but I doubt anything will ever surpass that day in West London and if it was ever in doubt before where my footballing loyalties would lie I knew from that day that me and Preston North End would be together for a lifetime.

.

JR`s HIGH FIVES                              

West Ham to beat Burnley 6/5                        

A £5 Stake returns £11.00 on bet365                

SEASONS STATS                              

Returns  £209.75    Stake £170.00    percentage profit  + 23.4%                       

Predictions 34   won 19   lost 15

[tamedbyafox]

why is it so wrong for property owners to take steps to ensure random strangers don't use their property to camp out? you typed up so much about the evils of hostile architecture, if that's what you believe then are you inviting homeless ppl to sleep in your backyard or living room instead? why not?? maybe because people you don't know have the potential to be destructive and dangerous????

this is the sort of very sad attitude that I think hostile architecture creates and encourages. I’m very sorry you live your life in so much fear. Can you really think your perception of your property’s relative safety is more important than someone else’s safety, and the thinnest smidgen of comfort? 

Your ask only talks about houseless people, not those who are disabled, elderly, or have a house and simply want to socialize out in the public space. So it doesn’t address what I added to that post, but I’ll stake out my general thoughts on this nonetheless. Next time, you may want to try addressing the issues someone’s actually speaking on rather than raising the standard “Not-In-My-Backyard” defenses.

First, other people aren’t an existential threat. People existing in the general vicinity of you, or the general vicinity of your stuff, isn’t some huge threat. Most people are just people, wanting to go about their day and be left alone. People are generally ok, and they’re part of your community. To the extent that people (housed and unhoused, in public and in private) do cause harm, simply saying “you can’t sit here!” isn’t actually addressing the problem. And this also ignores that those who are unhoused are more often the harmed party than the one causing harm.

 And, on the same point, if you’re going to say that unknown people are dangerous, you can’t even justify the existence of a shopping mall or a mega-store. Too many people, they might be dangerous. A laundromat? A school? A Church?!?! Theme parks??!!?!? Any sort of public space could be a threat, we should just abolish them all. The idea that people you don’t know are inherently dangerous is the deathknell of any hope of community. 

Second, you’re making a false equivalency between public space and private space with your comment on living rooms. (the backyard, interestingly, is a reality for many people - there are several houseless people who stay in what I and my neighbors consider our “backyard”, and thats just fine. We’ve never had issues.) Those images in the post though, were of park benches, sidewalks, the buildings that abut a sidewalk, little trees and such. That’s a public space for people to be in! Those spaces are specifically designed for people to be in! Public spaces are for us to use! And that means all people - the houseless, the disabled, community members who just want to be outside. These park benches and trees and sidewalks were put there for the community. And to the extent that some corporation wants their storefront to take advantage of the traffic of the community, they should have to be welcoming of our community - all of it, housed, unhoused. And if the space can be used by someone to stay warm or dry, then they should do that.

Third, these people are forced to “camp out” in these spaces because we, their community, have failed them. There are systemic failures that prevent them from sleeping somewhere warmer than that. Somewhere safer than that. And I am absolutely working towards a world where everyone has the right to a warm, safe, stable housing situation. But until that day, I’m not going to deny them the panacea of a slightly warmer place, a slightly more sheltered place, a slightly safer place. Can you really look at someone huddling in a building’s indent to get out of the wind and kick them out? Why should I punish someone for a situation caused by a systemic failure of our society? 

Fourth, these bits of sharp metal and wooden dividers don’t actually solve a single problem. The act of putting up some hostile architecture doesn’t address safety, or houselesness, or any other root issue. It simply pushes the problem onto someone else. All these achieve is forcing people you don’t want to see somewhere else. It doesn’t make them, or you, or the people in the space they’re going to fo to, more safe. It doesn’t end houselessness or bring about better social conditions or even make the community safe. It just means you don’t have to look at it. Hostile architecture is the ultimate NIMBY mentality of out of sight, out of mind. 

Finally, I hope you take a second and think about what it means to hold the value of property above the value of another human being. I’d love to invite you to read, or watch, A Christmas Carol. It’s the season, after all.  I’m going to include two passages below I think are rather pertinent.

Here, two gentlemen have come to Mr. Scrooge, before his visit by the spirits, to ask him to make some charitable donation:

“At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge,” said the gentleman, taking up a pen, “it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.”

“Are there no prisons?” asked Scrooge.

“Plenty of prisons,” said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

“And the Union workhouses?” demanded Scrooge. “Are they still in operation?”

“They are. Still,” returned the gentleman, “I wish I could say they were not.”

“The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?” said Scrooge.

“Both very busy, sir.”

“Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,” said Scrooge. “I’m very glad to hear it.”

“Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude,” returned the gentleman, “a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?”

“Nothing!” Scrooge replied.

“You wish to be anonymous?”

“I wish to be left alone,” said Scrooge. “Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don’t make merry myself at Christmas and I can’t afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned—they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there.”

“Many can’t go there; and many would rather die.”

“If they would rather die,” said Scrooge, “they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides—excuse me—I don’t know that.”

“But you might know it,” observed the gentleman.

“It’s not my business,” Scrooge returned. “It’s enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people’s. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!”

And the second portion that I think speaks well to the problems of hostile architecture, and the isolation and ignorance it reinforces, is when Christmas Present shows Scrooge the meager Christmas of a houseless London family, and Scrooge sees something truly horrifying: 

“Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,” said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit’s robe, “but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?”

“It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,” was the Spirit’s sorrowful reply. “Look here.”

From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.

“Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!” exclaimed the Ghost.

They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.

“Spirit! are they yours?” Scrooge could say no more.

“They are Man’s,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!” cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. “Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!”

“Have they no refuge or resource?” cried Scrooge.

“Are there no prisons?” said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. “Are there no workhouses?”

The bell struck twelve.

#Anonymous

[headoverhiddles]

Dilated - Cal Lightman x Reader

Synopsis: You babysit for Emily, Cal's daughter, and Cal drives you home afterward. The only thing is, he can tell you want him desperately. (Emily is a bit aged down in this)

You adjust your skirt and sweater, and head up the walkway to the Lightman residence.

The girl who you’d be babysitting for has a rather famous father. Famous in the world of science at least, and you follow a lot of true crime stuff. Cal Lightman is his name, and he’s damn good at what he does. You’ve heard stories of all the crazy things he can figure out just by watching a person talk—he can figure out if they’re telling the truth or not by a simple twitch or shrug.

Needless to say, you’re a little nervous to finally meet the man.

You knock on the door, biting your lip, and a few moments later, you hear footsteps. The door swings open to reveal a cynical looking blonde man—shorter in stature, but the way he stands reveals his astronomical confidence. He narrows his eyes at you.

“Can I help you?”

“Is this the bachelor party? Someone hired a stripper,” you say, and he raises his eyebrows. You smirk, taking a step inside. “That wasn’t a lie. It was a joke.”

He sputters, and glances at you in newfound appreciation. “You... know who I am, I take it.”

“Yessir,” you hold out a hand, and he shakes it. “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Lightman.”

“Cal,” he says slowly, still observing you in interest, “Call me Cal.”

“Alright Cal,” you say, and look upstairs. “Where’s your daughter?”

“She’s um—” As if just remembering he even has a daughter, he turns and shouts up. “Emily! You look fine! You’re not the one going out, I am, you don’t need makeup to look cool in front of the babysitter!”

Thumping footsteps.

“You know dad, I would be embarrassed, but I’m just used to you ruining everything by now,” Emily sighs, rolling her eyes and walking into the kitchen. Cal looks at you, shrugs, and turns back to her.

“I’ll be home around... oh, 11? That fine?”

“I don’t care,” Emily says, and Cal nods curtly.

“Great. 3 AM it is!” He winks at you. “Just kidding. Wouldn’t put you through nine hours with her even for more than minimum wage.”

“DAD!”

“I’m gonna leave, before she ties me to a stake and burns me.” You laugh, and see him to the front door. He slips on his jacket, and looks at his watch. “Yeah, um. So 11. Should be when I’m home, maybe even earlier, if the dinner gets nice and boring.” You laugh again, and rock back and forth on your toes.

“You on your way to pick up your date first?”

He studies you.

Why is she asking me that?

Her lips just twitched up, and her right eyebrow raised for the fraction of a millisecond.

She’s sucking on the inside of her lip.

She wouldn’t be asking what she did if she didn’t want to fuck you.

Jesus H, her pupils just fucking dilated.

“No,” Cal decides, “No, I haven’t got one, unfortunately, just... little old me.” You nod, and he hesitates before grabbing his keys. “You’re not inviting your boyfriend over to have sex on my couch while my daughter’s asleep, are you?”

You blink, not used to how forthright he is. “Uh... of course not. I don't have a boyfriend.”

She’s not lying.

Well. That rules out the dilation. She wants to bloody sleep with you.

Cal nods slightly, and turns tail, shutting the door. You sigh, pressing your back to it, and try to ignore the throbbing arousal you feel from just meeting the charming single dad, walking over to the kitchen.

“Hey, Emily. I’m up for anything—how do you feel like spending the night while your dad’s gone?” Just then, it occurs to you all too fast. “Oh god.”

Emily frowns, looking at you. “What?”

He asked me that to see if I had a boyfriend! That genius asshole!

You smile and blush, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Nothing. Just remembered I had something important tomorrow, but it’s not a big deal.”

Emily crosses her arms. “I’m around my dad enough to know a lie when I see one.” You shake your head.

“C’mon. Netflix?”

“Horror movies,” she grins, and you shrug. The kid’s almost 12, and Cal seems like the type of dad who’d let his daughter watch gory procedural crime dramas just for the faces.

A little bit through the night, you and Emily had abandoned your movie, You're Next, to chat about her school life-- she had confided in you about something earlier, and it got the ball rolling. You're just getting into the topic of how she feels about dating, when keys jiggle in the front lock. On the left couch where you are, you allow your pajama top to ride up and expose your stomach, letting the blanket slip as well.

"Everybody still alive?" Cal squints the TV. "I wouldn't be, if I had to watch that crap."

"Dad, when's (y/n) coming back?" she asks, and Cal looks at you.

"I guess you're the cool one now."

You two head to the front door as Emily goes up to get into bed. "So."

You smile. "So."

"I guess I'll need you again next... Saturday night?"

"No problem," you nod, getting shivers from the way he said "need you."

"See you then," he opens the door, then hesitates at your intense gaze. "Or, um... can I give you a lift?" he offers, "It's no trouble."

"That'd be great."

You two get in the car, him driving for about five minutes before he looks around.

"This about the place?"

"No, it's about 15 minutes from here, actually."

A lie.

She lives somewhere around this neighborhood, but she wants you to keep driving.

"Alright," Cal nods, and keeps on. "So, what's your house look like out here?"

"Uh... it's, big. And white."

"Yeah? What's the street name?"

"Um..."

Cal starts to laugh, and pulls over by a park, behind a tree. "Cut the crap. It's entertaining, but abysmal. You're really not a very good liar."

You huff, crossing your arms, and in doing so, your breasts get pushed up. Cal's eyes shift down, then back up to yours. You notice this, and start to smile. "Were you analyzing me when you met me?"

"Thats sort of what I do. I'm always analyzing people," Cal replies, "Can't help it." You press on.

"But me. What did you find out?"

Cal cocks his head, turning to face you fully. "I found... your pupils dilating when you looked at me."

"Mhmm?" you ask, slowly crawling over to him, "And... what does that mean?" Cal never breaks eye contact with you as he watches you climb into his lap, and his hands settle comfortably on your hips, slowly starting to work his fingers into a deep massaging motion.

"Dilated pupils are a micro expression of sexual arousal," he says, voice low, "Either that, or you banged your head really hard before coming in, and judging by how snappy you were with your little," he gestures, "Dirty joke at the door, that was not the case."

"Quick thinking," you breathe, ghosting your lips just by his to drag up his cheek.

Cal gives you a dark smile. "It's my job, love." He then enforces his hand on your back, bringing you in for a hot kiss before tugging you back, grinding his hips up into your inner thigh to show you just how hard he's getting. You feel his bulge, and feel your pussy getting wetter, clenching to feel him fill you.

Cal brings a hand down, beginning to rub. He watches your eyes with careful scrutiny, watching your reaction. He eventually lays the seat back, and parts your legs, reaching into your panties and slipping three fingers inside of you. You moan loudly, and he begins a movement of stroke, curve, stroke.

"How's this...?" he murmurs. He watches you.

Her lips are parted, but she's chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Her brow is furrowed.

Her fingers are restless.

What if I...

Cal changes his pace to a faster curve, curve, thrust, and when your eyes roll back and you bite your lip, fisting his shirt, he smirks. "Theeere she is."

"Fuck me," you hiss.

"Plan on it," he nods.

"Cal," you whine, and he watches your face, reading your eyes. He grazes your clit, and as your eyebrows lift and your pupils dilate even more, he focuses his attention on that.

"Got something to say?"

"Will you... um," you blush, and he stares into what seems like your fucking soul.

"You can do better than that," he chides.

"Eat my pussy," you beg.

"On it." You crawl out of his lap, and by some miracle, he gets your legs on either side of his face, where you sit and he starts to lick you.

"Oh my fucking god," you moan, and he pushes his tongue inside you, the wet sloppy noises he's making while eating you out turning you on even more. After a few more minutes of this, you squirm. "Cal, I need your cock."

"Thank god, I'm dying to feel what this glorious cunt is like," his eyes are sultry, salacious, "You taste amazing, love."

You bite your lip, and he holds up a finger, getting the genius idea to put the seat back up for a better position. You then straddle him, and while both of you are sitting up, he unzips himself and finally frees his cock, burying it deep. You let him sink all the way in before starting to move, rocking your chest against his. He appreciates your elevation, and watches your breasts rise and fall with every rock like a ship of the two of your bodies.

"You're close," he observes, watching you, and you nod with a gasp. "It's alright darling, let go." You would protest, but you don't have much choice as your orgasm washes over you, his dick continuing to push in and out and rock around as you both clutch onto each other.

"God, magnificent," his breath hitches, and he suddenly looks alarmed. "Shit shit shit, c--ahh, co-oming, coming, gotta get out of--!" Quick thinking, you drop the seat again as he holds his orgasm, but that just pushes him deeper, making him groan and white knuckle your hips. You quickly lift off, and look down, watching Cal's chest rise and fall as he begins to arch his back. You stroke the V of his abs and wrap your fist around his throbbing cock, jerking him off fast. He gasps. "(y/n)..."

You open your mouth, and catch some of bis cum on your tongue and lips as you stroke it all out of him. His head falls back with a thunk, and he rubs his hands over his face.

"Haven't come that hard since..." he frowns. "That time I jacked off in my office after hours, on the phone with a prostitute. Unfortunately, there are security cameras. Unfortunately, I knew."

You laugh, and slide back to your seat, pulling up your panties again and pulling down your top. Cal sucks on his bottom lip, straightens the seat back up again, and looks over. He brings a hand to your face, strokes your cheek with his thumb, and studies you. "Will you stop doing that?" you smile.

"Doing what?"

"If you wanna know how I feel, just ask me."

He takes his hands back. "Alright. How d'you feel?"

"Pretty fucking wonderful," you giggle, "But I need to do a laundry before my roommate finds my sweater covered in cum."

"That would be an idea," Cal nods, and scratches his head. "Right, uhhh... about next Saturday night. Wanna..."

"Babysit?" you smirk.

"Babysit," he affirms, smirking in amusement. You nod.

"I don't think I could resist you for longer than a week after tonight, Dr. Lightman."

He winks.

#cal lightman #tim roth #tim roth x reader #cal lightman x reader #reader x cal lightman #reader x tim roth #mr orange #mr orange x reader #emil blonsky #thr incredible hulk #lie to me #lie to me fanfic #lie to me fanfiction #lie to me smut #cal lightman smut #tim roth smut #tim roth fanfiction #cal lightman fanfiction

[torannosaurusrexy]

No Mercy

Chapter 1: A String Of Losses

➝ Genre: Smut

➝ Pairing: Park Jimin | Reader

{Switch!Jimin} {Switch!Reader} {Boyfriend Jimin} {Teasing} {Masturbation} {Masturbation—Female} {Jimin Being A Lil’ Shit} {Competing Couple} {Short Fic Series} 

➝ Word Count: 4728 | Ch. 1/2

{Read on AO3} ➝ {Here}

➝ Summary: Some couples play Monopoly, others play Chess. However, Jimin and you are not those couples. You prefer to play games with much higher stakes, and the stakes this time? Well, they’re higher than ever before. The rules are simple: The first to cave loses and the winner tops. Simple as that.

“Check mate.” Namjoon smiles, moving his bishop deftly into a position of no return, making you drop your jaw and nearly flip the table in frustration when you realize you lost yet another long winded chess match against the master™. Aside from Namjoon’s near genius IQ, you have to admit that he’s rather cunning and charismatic atop that reliable brain of his. He uses his way with words and means of complimenting you platonically as a means of strategic annihilation. 

You fall back against the chair, huffing in subsequent diffidence that leaves Namjoon reeling. There’s no doubt that Namjoon’s gotten a kick out of your persistent thirst for victory. He wears a blithesome smile thats stretched so far from ear to ear that you worry his face is—or soon will be—permanently stuck that way. “No fair!” You jump out of your seat, pointing at the chess board like it somehow cheated you and now you were left with nothing but a string of losses and a shattered ego. 

Namjoon laughs, throwing his head back before allowing it to rise again as he runs a delicate hand through his silvery locks. “What do you mean no fair? I won.” He points at the marble chess board, eyeing the abundance of pieces he took from you while he still had quite an assortment of soldiers at his beck and call…it seems Chess just isn’t your cup of tea. “The game was practically mine the second you moved your rook out of the main defense line.” He talks lambently with his hands, going on to describe what you could’ve done to avoid such a situation…and another loss. You’ve lost interest though, especially as you spot Hoseok and Jungkook deep in a game of foosball. 

Now there’s a game you can go varsity in. 

“That’s all great Joon, why don’t you teach Taehyung or Yoongi while I go regroup by kicking Kook’s ass at foosball?” He halts his stale monologue about the finery of chess to stare up at you with a puzzled look on his face. He turns to rest his eyes upon the two boys who have their tongues poking at the flesh of their cheeks while they try to decode the contingency of their foretold game. 

Nodding, Namjoon turns back to you, smiling reluctantly. “Fine.” He relinquishes, allowing you the freedom you requested and returning his attention to the chessboard, examining the pieces and placing them back on the appropriate square as you begin to skip away towards the active match inside the large wooden table that shakes every so often due to the animosity in which the two young men play. 

Jungkook scores past Hoseok and takes the game, an exponential lead that—despite his best efforts—Hoseok never would have won. “Think I can have a go?” You ask, standing beside Jungkook who’s still mid victory dance. On a piece of paper, Jin jots down the score silently. 

“Finally! A rookie.” Hoseok grins, assuming you’ve never played foosball and thinks he finally has the advantage over an opponent. 

“Funny, but I’ll have you know I was trained in the most advanced foosball arts.” You lie, trying to get Hoseok to cower into one of the stools beside Jin who’s now staring between the group while he waits to keep track of the next match. 

“Foosball Arts? That’s not a thing.” Jungkook spins one of the metal bars within the table around quickly, rattling the little plastic players within that you can’t help but feel bad for. 

You look away from the spinning bar and instead place your hands on your hips, taking a step towards Jungkook and cocking an eyebrow. “And how would you know?” 

“I made Yoongi look it up once. I wanted to take a class…alas, it did not exist.” He shrugs, making everyone within the vicinity break down in laughter at his sarcastic stupidity. 

Upon recovering, you step to one side of the table, holding two of the handles and taking a competitive stance. “Despite that, wanna play?” Jungkook and the others slowly let the laughter die down before positions are taken and Jin stands to drop the ball into the board. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” He smirks and shifts his eyes quickly from you to the wooden table decorated pristinely like a field. 

The ball is dropped and both opposing sides snap into play. 

At the same time as ball meets wood, Yoongi traipses through the threshold to the lounge; Taehyung and Jimin following close behind, but they’re too caught up in conversation to notice the game taking place upon entering. Namjoon smiles when Yoongi joins him at the chess table; frankly you aren’t sure how long that will last—nevertheless, he seems overjoyed to see his close friend. 

Across the room, Taehyung flamboyantly throws his hands into each word he utters; a laugh of amusement flowing from Jimin upon hearing the end of Taehyung’s unruly story. A yelp of disfavour leaps without notice from your throat as Jungkook scores, and Jimin jumps at the sound of your voice. “That’s three to three. Seems you guys are tied.” Jin announces, making yet another tally mark on the small notepad he has with a flick of his pen.

The game soon resumes and you still remain oblivious to Jimin’s entry with the others. However, he’s anything but oblivious to your presence. Embracing a taciturn air, Jimin abandons Taehyung who doesn’t seem the least bit bothered; portrayed by his blithesome smile upon approaching Yoongi and Namjoon. You spin one of the rows of players hard enough for the ball to fly past Jungkooks defenses and directly into the goal. “Yes!” You bellow, throwing your hands up in the air. Jimin takes advantage and loops his arms around your waist. 

“Nice shot, but I’ve seen better.” He teases, juddering your hips back and forth in his palms gently. 

You spin to wrap your arms around his neck, “Its nice to see you too.” His lips steal yours in a suitably soft smooch that leaves you blushing.

“Ughhhh, gross!” Hoseok groans jokingly, pretending to hurl into Jin’s lap. “Get a room will ya?!” The small group chuckles together before you finally slip from Jimin’s airy grasp. He lingers, admiring your derrière from afar. 

“One more point and I win maknae.” 

Jungkook snorts, “Yeah we’ll see about that; and it's Golden Maknae to you.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself Kook.” Namjoon says from across the room, remaining absolute and focused on his game with Yoongi but somehow still finding time to shrink the Maknae’s ego. 

More laughter; the most heavenly of sounds thrown from each of these boys as if they’re happy to be rid of it. It provides such rapture that you’re not sure you could ever live without the sound. 

Jin drops the ball back onto the chipped playing field, and off the two of you go; spinning the plastic players with all your might. Your hands ache and sting with how tight you squeeze the paddles. You want this win. You need this win. Being competitive runs through your blood faster than that of the oxygen it carries. Currently, you have control of the ball. Getting past Jungkook wont be easy. He’s fast and has the reflexes of a cobra…scoring won’t be any walk in the park. Passing the ball to another row of your players, you slip past your adversary’s last line of defense. But, it’s too late. Jungkook spins his paddle of players and the ball goes flying all the way back, making a home directly in your goal box. “NO! Goddammit!” Hoseok and Jin burst out laughing, Jungkook celebrates with a dance. 

Wiping away a jest induced tear, Jin finally announces the score. “Four to four hot stuff. Seems the maknae might win after-all.” 

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” You growl, keen on winning and rubbing it in Jungkooks smug face.

“I will.” Jimin shrugs, smiling. You and the others divert your stares to your boyfriend who seems for dying today. “I’ll bet that Jungkook wins. If he does…then I get something in return. Fair?” 

“Uh oh, they’re doing it again.” Jungkook whispers towards his two elders who have been onlookers this entire time. 

The three of them turn pale, bets between the two of you have ended in a variety of ways. Multiple involving some of the ensemble getting injured by flying shoes and handbags. Jungkook—poor boy—is the unlucky chap caught in the crossfires this time around…and the pale hue to his usually bright melanin skin tells anyone who dare to look over that something is about to go horribly wrong; or that Jungkook is about to be revisited by his lunch. 

You turn to face Jimin, pulling him by the shirt towards you. “And if I win?” 

He grins, his fairy like blue hair making him appear innocent when he’s anything but. “We��ll decide later. Just do me a favor and lose.”  

“Over my dead body.” 

“That can be arranged.” 

You raise a fist to hit your lover when Jungkook calls out: “Growing old here! I don’t care what the two of you get if you win or I do; but I for one would like to actually find out who owns the bragging rights.” Jin and Hoseok try their damndest to conceal smiles, but fail nonetheless. 

You return to the table, trying with all your might not to let the nervousness you feel sift its way onto your face. Jungkook radiates cocky energy the second you look up to meet his steadfast eyes. “Last point; next scorer takes the game!” Jin announces, sounding exactly like a sports announcer should. “On my count.” He looks to both players. “Ready? Set? Go!” 

With his last dropped word the ball follows and the game resumes, drawing the attention of all occupants of the room. Taehyung has gravitated towards the table, even Namjoon and Yoongi have turned their bodies and heads to watch the making of a foosball champion. Which hopefully, is you. 

Your tongue rests at the corner of your mouth as you watch with sharp eyes: the ball move back and forth between the two teams’ players. “Get out of my way dammit!” You shout, raising a chuckle from your opponent and friends. 

“That kinda defeats the purpose gorgeous.” Jungkook utters, smiling. 

Jungkook has the ball, moving up the field and closer to your goal box. At last second you're able to maneuver the ball from him, moving it back towards his goal. Your attempts are short-lived however; as your opponent uses his quick thinking and rapid reflexes to steal the ball back and move it down towards your side. Sweat trickles down the back of your neck, you’re not sure if you could take another second of the stress. If you time it right, you could hit the ball past Jungkooks defense and into his goal. So, you spin the paddle.

Your heart rings in your ears and you squeeze your eyes shut. You hear the ball land in a goal box. You smile and open your eyes, ready to celebrate. Jungkook cheers, jumps up and down and moves away to do a front flip. “Victory is sweet!” He screams. 

You’re at a loss for words. Your jaw falls slack and a chorus of ‘Ooo’s’ and low grunts erupt through the crowd. “Nice pull through Kook. I was sure you’d lose.” 

Taehyung goes and gives Jungkook a high five, providing you with a solemn look of peace. Then, the cool presence of Jimin comes up behind you. He whispers, “Now…for the next competition.” 

The evening draws to a close when the others depart to find time for themselves. Namjoon and Yoongi first, most likely heading back to their studio’s or rooms back in the dorms to produce or catch up on some much needed beauty sleep. Jin, Hoseok, and Taehyung leave not too long afterward. They said something about going out to eat. Jungkook’s head turned at that but he was looking to Jimin and you to see if you’d be joining them. “We’ll catch up Kook. Tell the other’s we’ll meet you all there.” Jimin’s smile was warmer than a crackling fireplace, and there’s no way Jungkook could say no. He pivots, and follows the others out the door with a smile. 

Jimin waits until he no longer hears footsteps to turn to you and steal your lips for his own. You push him off thanks to his lingering words still swirling through your mind. “So about this competition…” You start, “Care to tell me more?” 

Your lover grins from ear to ear. “So you got a hold of that did you?” 

You nod. “I did. And i’d like to know what you meant by it.”

He sighs, moving his hands down to your hips and holding you there. “I was thinking...we play a game with higher stakes than that of a foosball game.” 

Your curiosity has officially peaked. Park Jimin has these dark eyes that can scoop you up completely with just one glance. Your full attention is on those eyes, and what they’ll do next. “What does the winner get?” 

“Topping rights.” He whispers the words with a gentle smirk plastered to his face. It's clear that this has been an idea of his for quite some time. Like a sleeping panther, he waited for his time to strike. 

You waver, fluttering your eyelashes and glancing about the room. “For how long?” 

Jimin licks his lips, “A week.”

“Hm, Surprising.” You’ve grown cocky, and feel a raging fire of confidence surge through you.

“What is?” Your lover questions, confused by your comment.

“It’s surprising that you’d be willing to give up topping rights for a whole week.”

He starts to laugh, to think you actually believe you’ll beat him. Jimin’s had this game of his planned out for months; and he knows your weaknesses. “I admire your confidence. But I’ll win this one Kitten, you can bet on that.” 

You move forward and kiss him, mumbling a “We’ll see about that.” Between your parting lips. 

Dinner at the restaurant with Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jin was business as usual. The appetite the boys had was big; and the bill was twice that size. Upon arrival of certain meal parts and between meat being cooked, Jimin had conjured a deep and insightful conversation with Taehyung about Korean traditions and origins, a topic Jin soon took over. “Hungry?” Your lover whispers, his hand resting on your thigh. 

“Very; my stomach might eat itself if I don’t get something inside me soon.” 

A silence ensues between you two, but Jimin’s eyes gleam with the promise of an innuendo don’t leave you. He starts to chuckle and you soon register the words that escaped you. “I can put something inside—” 

You dig your nails into his hand that you’ve been holding. 

Jimin flinches, wincing in pain before reaching for your wrist with his free hand. He squeezes until you let up and whisper, “Nice try.” 

Jimin smiles and looks up to Hoseok, “Hyung, we have a hangry lady over here…mind saving me from a mauling?” He asks, teasing you gently with the use of the word hangry. Doing so all while all while desperately trying to evert his train of thought from attempting to seduce you. 

Hoseok proceeds to cut open different chunks of meat, checking each one for imperfections and rawness. “These few are done.” He announces, pointing to a select couple of chunks that make your mouth water.

Both Taehyung and Jin stop their conversing at the announcement of fully cooked meat. “Ladies first.” Hoseok hastily lets the words slip past his lips, gulping back a mouth of saliva. 

Your own lips part to answer him as you hold out your plate. It’s then that Jimin’s hand moves towards an area of you that is usually reserved for touching within the confines of your bedroom. “ThANK you Hobi.” Jimin’s hand brushes over your panties, up and down tracing slow needy movements that causes your tone to fluctuate.  

Hoseok doesn’t seem to take your tone fluctuation as anything out of the ordinary. If anything, he thinks you’re playing. “You’RE WELcome!” He jokes, copying your tone. 

You quickly take back your plate, dropping it onto the table and allowing it to land safely with a clack. Jimin resumes a conversation with Jungkook to cover his own ass. His hand and fingers remain doing the job they set out to do: torture you and win this little competition as fast as possible. 

Jin laughs loudly, slapping Hoseok on the back. The mixture of sounds breaks you away from and out of the haze Jimin’s fingers put—more like forces—you into. Underneath the table, your hand pushed Jimins away even though the feeling of ecstasy he feeds you leaves you in a state of ravenous hunger unrelated to the cooling meat on the plate ahead of you. If he thinks he’s going to win topping rights so easily…then he’s wrong. It’s the first night, and you plan to last much longer than that.

Jimin withdrawals, as the rules state. If he were to press on, he’d lose. And if you were to accept his come on…you would have to accept defeat.

Dammit. This competition is proving to be quite the futile feat. Hopefully…you’re strong enough to make it through without allowing a finger to slip into you. 

Two. Weeks.

Two damn weeks! 

Two weeks of nothing more than casual kisses and hand holds. It has been fourteen days since Jimin and you decided that this competition would be fun. And it has been sixteen days since you two last slept together.

Raw, passionate, heart rattling sex. 

You have never missed it so much before. Its one thing to not have a vessel that can bring you both pleasure and love, but it’s a whole other to be tied to one and neither of you can do jack about it all thanks to a petty agreement. 

“Is masturbating cheating?” You blurt mid movie viewing on the couch with Jimin who’s munching on popcorn and obviously absorbed into the plot line of the film.

“What?” He chokes, coughing up a kernel that he catches before it can pass his lips. 

“Because touching myself sounds so good right now. Like, Chicago deep dish pizza good.” 

Jimin chuckles, taking another handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before commenting. “Seems like someones tapping out.”

You raise your eyebrows and shift uncomfortably away from him, “I never said I was tapping out!” You swallow and clear your throat, “I merely asked if masturbating was cheating!”

Jimin hums, thinking calmly. “Hm…no. No it’s not.” 

You cross your arms, “You’re only saying that because you’ve jizzed four times this week already.” 

Jimins arm escapes from behind you, the movie that before had his attention absorbed, now completely labeled as nothing more than white noise. “What? No I—”

“Chim, I’m not blind. I know you don’t have a cold and the crumpled up tissues in the bathroom garbage were definitely not there when I left for groceries around noon.” 

“Oh please, you’re telling me you haven’t touched yourself once for two weeks?” 

“Three.” You correct, growing antsy. 

Jimin gulps as he stares at you, looking serious but soon his soft features melt to show a laugh.

“What’s so damn funny?!” You yell, sitting up straighter. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t think of the loophole sooner!” 

You pick up a pillow and wack him with it, he moves the popcorn out of the way; sacrificing his face in lieu of the buttery bowl. “Asshole.” 

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds Kitten. Just say the word.” He wears a smug grin that whispers devilish intent, he wants to cave just as much as you do; but he knows he can’t. Winning is his ultimate goal. 

“In your dreams.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“Ha. Ha. Hilarious.” 

Jimin looks away, picking his popcorn back up and continuing to eat. “Fine then, thats your call. Suffer alone.”

“I won’t suffer.” You stand, turning towards your boyfriend before leaving the room, “I don’t need you to cum. Enjoy the movie Jimin.” You call, catching your boyfriend mid mouthful as he turns to watch you go.

“What? Where are you going?! Rachel is about to stand up to Eleanor at the wedding! I’m betting—and hoping—that she slaps that woman! Do you think she actually farts channel N.5?” He mumbles the last part to himself, but eventually pauses the film to chase after you, wherever you ran off to. 

Jimin moves swiftly down the hall with a couple last pieces of popcorn in his hand. He couldn’t possibly enjoy the movie without you. Besides, you were keeping him warm and now he’s caught a chill thanks to your absence. “Babe, I’ll get fat if you let me eat all this popcorn alone. Please come watch with me. I’m sorry I laughed.” He giggles to himself again, remembering the question you asked. “I just figured that you of all people would have taken full advantage of that loop hole. I’m surprised, and impressed!” He compliments.

Your shared bedroom door is ajar, and Jimin approaches it with caution; recalling several pranks involving flour, airhorns, and slime that have taken place in this very threshold. His mouth falls agape when he begins to form your name, the letters averse as they never fully reach maturity. From within the bedroom Jimin can hear stuttering pants and moans, ones so mystifying and familiar. They could only be coming from you. 

Those sweet purrs you let out acting as music to Jimins ears. 

Clearly, his answer to your question imbued in you enough courage to put date night on pause and pleasure yourself in the next room. Your behavior was insufferable, but oh so resolute. The intricacy of your movements had Jimins own hand palming his length through his jeans. The rules to this competition state that touching each other is forbidden and therefore no possibility. But, no where does it state that voyeurism is unwelcome.

Within the room, on the edge of the bed your lips incrementally part; the space between them unceremoniously filled with your tongue that pokes at the opening. Jimins hand squeezes tighter around his length with each pump over his length. The very sight of you so exposed and lust driven is indisputably the most beautiful you’ve ever appeared. Coveted, Jimin moans quietly as your finger is joined by another, your free hand working on other erogenous zones to provide a more fluid pleasure. Jimin dubiously sidles closer to the opening in the door, seeking fortuitous noises from you to further fuel his movements. “Jimin…right there.” You coo, imagining that it was your lover who was moving within you in lieu of your two digits. 

Thats all Jimin needed.

As painful as it is to complete, Jimin zips his jeans. He tucks his length against his stomach, held in place by his belt. Assuming position, he allows his foot to push the door open gently. However, the push is strong enough to reveal him standing in the doorway. “Right where baby?”

“Come to torture yourself?” You grin, curling your fingers deep inside you. Their motion is slow but rough. The very feeling has your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Of course not. I find great joy in watching you fall apart under your own hands. The very sight will hold me over for another week. Maybe two, if I use my time wisely. So thanks Kitten.” Jimin winks, and reaches for the door. “Have fun.” He coos before walking out and closing it over.

“Fuck you Park Jimin!” You yell, realizing just now that despite the view, you may have actually helped your boyfriend win.

Attempt One: Failure.

“How in the holy mother of hell are you guys still alive?”

“Hobi, people don’t just drop like flies when they haven’t gotten laid for a little while.” Jimin laughs, sipping from a water bottle between choreography sessions. 

“A month Jimin! I’d be worried for my health!” The elder boy fakes a shiver, laughing when he catches wind of the laughable air the situation withholds. 

Jungkook gets up from stretching on the floor, he too is drenched in a thin sheen of sweat. “I thought you were kidding! She’s right there all the time man, how have you been keeping it down?!”

Jimin smacks his lips; “Kook, let me show you something.” He takes Jungkook by the shoulder, throwing his arm over it to control where he walks. He saunters him over to a mirror. “You see this?” He says, pointing at Jungkooks reflection.

“Yes? It’s me.”

Jimin nods, “Correct. I too see a virgin who has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.”

Jungkook throws Jimin’s arm off of him, blushing profusely and shooting the two older and now laughing boys a burning look of hatred. “I’m not a virgin!” 

“Surrrrrrre; whatever you say Golden Virgin.” Hoseok jibes, sipping from a water bottle with a drenched towel around his neck.

“The Virgin Mary Maknae!” Jimin turns, pointing at Hoseok when he comes up with the second nickname. 

The two hyungs hold hands and begin to chant half-assed nicknames that leave Jungkook stained red. 

After practice, the room had been evacuated; only Jimin left surrounded by mirrors. And of course…his cell phone. He knows you’re probably home right now. Shoulder deep in a month old package of questionable Oreos. Whats wrong with sending one picture? One little picture. Jimin knows that if you reciprocate…he wins. 

Positioning himself in front of one of the many floor length mirrors, Jimin opens his camera and holds up his shirt with his mouth. His joggers hang low enough to reveal his deep v-line and when he flexes each individual abdominal muscle becomes enhanced. “Chew on this baby.” He slurs to you, smirking into the cloth in his mouth. His finger hovers over the send button after the picture is taken. It’s with that same cocky grin that he clicks send. 

You hear the ding from your phone on the coffee table. Jimin was right. You’ve already made a tyrannosaurus like dent in this package of Oreos, and there’s no chance of you stopping in sight. You continue to munch cuddled up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, picking up your phone with innocence in your doe eyes. His name appears all happy on your screen, so you unlock the device without hesitation.

19:34 Jiminie 🥰💖 | Hi Kitten, just finished practice! Hobi worked Kook and I to the bone today. Look how sweaty he got me!

It’s with slim ambivalent behavior that you click on the photo Jimin has sent. You gulp at the sight. The view is downright blasphemous. The most nefarious part to it being that you just know he meant to send it. Time and time again has Jimin seen the way you look as him after a good workout and just how it affects you. Nothing has changed now. It physically hurts you not to tell him to rush home. Or that you’d love to come and see what he’s practiced today…not that you’d be seeing anything other than his shimmering body moving against yours. 

You need to answer him. He probably knows your gawking—more like drooling into your Oreos—at him. Through gritted teeth, you set out to extinguish his inner incubus by typing up something…normal.

19:37 | Thats great baby! So glad you had a great time! You’re probably famished after all that exercise. What do you want for dinner?

Jimin chuckles to himself upon reading your response. He can imagine what you look like based off of previous knowledge. You’re most likely blushing and biting your lip. It’s all too easy.

Jimin swallows, typing a response thats sure to be incendiary.

19:40 Jiminie 🥰💖|You.

He quickly answers. You hold your phone tightly, blushing and biting your lip in the exact fashion that Jimin imagined. 

19:40 | I think we’re fresh out :( Will pasta suffice?

Jimin sighs. He’s picked a worthy opponent. One that won’t go down without a fight. 

19:44 Jiminie 🥰💖| I guess :/

#Park Jimin #JM #PJM #Jimin #Jimin Park #BTS Jimin #Reader x Jimin #Jimin x Reader #BTS #Kim Namjoon #Kim Seokjin #Min Yoongi #Jung Hoseok #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungkook #Switch!Jimin #Switch!Reader #No Mercy #J-hopeyouchokeme

[sugarless--girl]

Day 7: Disaster — fem!Kuroken

Kuroo was a bit of a disaster around Kenma. The dark-haired girl was terrified that someday she’d slip up and it’d all come crashing down that she had the hots for her childhood friend.

Of course she fucks this up by making out with Kenma at a party. God help her poor soul.

Read on AO3

The party was an absolute disaster and everyone knew it. It wasn’t enough that cops were called half-way through the night, oh no—Kenma had to go and make shitty decisions in her inebriated state of mind. Remind her never to go to a frat party again.

When Kenma first woke up that morning, her hangover was painful enough that it left her cursing god and her dumbass past self. Why was she so stupid? After she finally managed to muster up the strength to sit up—trying not to gag a few times—Kenma looked around for her phone. But something else caught her attention—namely the fact that she was completely topless, no bra in sight. She wasn’t wearing pants either but at least she had her underwear. Small victories. She was also in her room, so she at least had enough sense to get back home.

Did Kenma get lucky last night or had she thrown up all over herself? The latter explanation didn’t account for the missing bra though. God, it was cold in this room. She slowly got out of her bed. Her sense of balance was worse than ever and the thought of even bending down to pick a shirt off the ground felt too much. Kenma just rooted around the closet until she found an oversized t-shirt to wear.

She went to the bathroom to get rid of the taste of alcohol in her mouth.  As Kenma grabbed her toothbrush, she took in her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was a total disaster—something she was not looking forward to fixing. She smelt like alcohol and sweat but the thought of stepping into the shower made her head spin. Her eyes traveled to her neck. It had a huge fucking hickey on it.

Who the fuck—?

Kenma pushed the thought out of her head. She’d have a mental breakdown later. She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to find Kuroo. Her longtime friend was standing at the stove with a look of intense concentration. Before Kenma could step closer, the smell hit her and it made her want to throw up right then and there. Luckily, she clearly threw up everything last night as she just gagged. But it did cause Kuroo to turn her way when she heard Kenma hitting the wall.

“K-Kenma! You’re up!!” She said, as she practically jumped out of her skin.

Her friend’s loud voice would’ve been comforting any other time but Kenma only felt, well, pain stabbing her head. “Kuro…..you’re too loud.”

“Ah, yeah sorry.” Kuroo stared at her oddly (probably staring at the hickey) but Kenma wasn’t in the mood to try and read the other girl’s expression.

“Aren’t you hungover?”

“No.” There was Kuroo’s easy going smile. “I actually watch my limit unlike you. Here, drink some water.”

Kenma took the cup and began sipping it. Drinking water was an ordeal itself. Why did she drink so much again?

“Oh, yeah I saw Shrimpy make out with that scary girlfriend of hers. Weren’t you hanging out with her?”

“Yes.” Kenma muttered mutinously, now remembering why she decided to suddenly torture her liver. Kuroo had ditched her to hang with Bokuto so she decided to find Hinata before the party got too hectic. But it hadn’t taken long for Hinata to get distracted by Kageyama, thus leaving Kenma to her own devices. She hated when her friends did this. Drag her to some random party, made her leave her 3DS behind so she could “socialize” and ditch her halfway through. Kuroo wasn’t too bad with leaving Kenma as the black-haired girl usually knew when Kenma was ready to bail but Hinata—despite being well-meaning—tended to get distracted easily.

God, what even happened last night?

“Uh, so you hungry?” Kenma just glared at Kuroo who laughed at her misery.

“You took me back last night, right?”

“Yeah?” Kuroo said, sounding weirdly hesitant

“Do you remember if I made out with anyone?” Kenma wasn’t the type to make out with strangers—not that she judged people who did, but it was definitely out of character for her. Drunk Kenma was more sleepy and cuddly than horny.

Kuroo stood tense at the stove. Kenma blinked as she tried to make sense of Kuroo’s strange behavior. “Was it—one of your exes or something?” That seemed like the only logical conclusion for the odd atmosphere.

“No, I didn’t see who the person was.” Kuroo muttered.

That explained it. Kuroo was doing her over-protective routine again. “Well, I’m gonna go shower.”

Kuroo whipped to look at Kenma. “Eat something first.”

Kenma grimaced. “After my shower.” She could feel Kuroo’s eyes on her and turned to look at the other girl. Kuroo just looked away.

Weird

Last night was a disaster. Kuroo was a disaster.

How the fuck was she going to live with the knowledge that she made out with her best friend? She was a godless sinner that deserved to be burned at the stake. She took advantage of Kenma when the other girl cuddled up to her. Never mind that Kuroo was just as fucked up as Kenma—she still took advantage of her friend’s trusting nature. Kuroo hadn’t gotten drunk in a while now so last night had been bad. A disaster even.

Kuroo had luckily come to her senses and stumbled drunkenly into the bathroom to throw-up the rest of the alcohol to sober up quicker. Never had she been so thankful for her gag reflexes. Of course, sobering up just made her feel worse.

Not to be dramatic or anything but she totally got why people became raging alcoholics. It was way easier to ignore your feelings when you were drunk out of your minds. But you made stupider decisions so maybe it wasn’t worth it.

Kenma knew something was wrong despite being massively hung-over. When she finally recovered she’d probably ask Kuroo what the hell was going on and Kuroo knew there was no way she’d be able to lie to her face like that. She hadn’t ever been able to lie to Kenma. She was just too perceptive. But the other girl knew when to give Kuroo her space so she hoped that Kenma would let it go this time. That was the only reason she got away with not spilling her guts about her raging lesbian crush on the other girl.

She looked down to her frying pan and sighed. It had turned out slightly overcooked during her self-loathing episode—Kenma wouldn’t mind but Kuroo hated making anything less than perfect for her.

Kenma stepped back into the kitchen, toweling her hair dry. She felt significantly more like a human being after properly cleaning up. Her hair—which initially smelled like someone dumped a shot of vodka all over it—was washed and she no longer felt like that one time where she stayed up three days in a row to finish Dark Souls. She did not finish Dark Souls in those three days as it was rather difficult to react fast when you were sleep-deprived. Who knew?

In the shower, she spent a good deal of time wondering who the hell gave her that hickey. Was it a stranger or was it someone she knew? She contemplated asking Hinata about it but figured going to Kuroo would be the best place to start.

Kenma sat down at the dining table and Kuroo placed an omlette in front of her. She was grateful it looked rather plain as the thought of digesting much else seemed like an ordeal in it of itself. Kuroo watched her as she slowly dug into her meal. Kenma’s stomach was beginning to rebel but she wasn’t about to throw up now.

“Good?” Kuroo asked

“Mmh.” Kenma looked up to see Kuroo staring intently at her nails. “Kuro? Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Ah, I already did.”

Something felt off. “Did you see your ex at the party last night?”

“No? Why are you bringing him up?” Kuroo asked with a frown

Kenma shrugged and continued to eat her breakfast. Kuroo’s breakup had been a messy one but not many people knew the details. Apparently Bokuto knew and that bother Kenma. All she knew, herself, was that it had something to do with her.

“Did you see me with anyone?”

“Well I didn’t see you much in the beginning of the party.”

“But you took me home, right?” Kenma pressed.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You didn’t see me with anyone when you came to take me back?”

Kuroo rubbed her neck. “No…”

Wait…. “Did I have hickey at that time?”

Kuroo looked everywhere but at her. Surely not…

“Kuro, did you give me this hickey?”

To Kenma’s mild horror, tears began welling up in Kuroo’s eyes. “I-I’m so sorry Kenma. I’m really sorry. You can—you can do whatever you want with me. I’m just—“

“Wait, wait, wait…so let me get the events in order: you called a Lyft or something and we went back to our dorm. And then we ended up making out on my bed I’m guessing. And then you got horrified and went to wallow in your room, right?” Everything was starting to finally make sense to Kenma. She always felt as though she were missing something with Kuroo. She knew that a kiss wouldn’t bother Kuroo that much unless it had weight behind it—Kuroo hardly cared about kissing Bokuto after all.

“Yes….” If the kicked puppy look was saying anything, then it was clear that Kuroo expected the worst.

“Kuro….how long have we known each other?”

“I-is this a trick question?”

“No—I mean, why would you expect that I’d get mad?”

“Well because you got mad at Lev…”

“You and I both established Lev is an idiot.” Kenma sighed. “I’m just surprised I didn’t notice this about you.”

“Notice what?” Kuroo asked, slowly looking up at Kenma.

“You liking me.” At that, Kuroo buried her hands in her face and groaned.

“I didn’t want you to notice, that’s why.”

“Why? Because I don’t like you?”

Kuroo mumbled something intelligible in her hands but Kenma had an idea of what she was getting at.

“Kuro….you’re the exception to a lot of my rules. It’s why the thing I’m most surprised about is that I didn’t pick up on your crush.”

“Yeah?” Kuroo asked, peaking up from her hands.

“Yeah.” Kenma smiled, “I notice you all the time.”

Kuroo smiled for what felt like the first time that morning and Kenma’s raging headache didn’t feel as bad as before.

#femslash february #femslashfeb2019 #day 7 #disaster #haikyuu #kuroken #fem kuroken #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #genderbend #posted a day late but better late than never

[pigletsbigmovie]

i watched cap marvel like a week ago so here are my thoughts on that~~ spoilers of course

carol is a character who has been held back all of her life even before she was taken by the kree. and after being taken in by them, she’s had to “fight with one arm tied behind her back.” she’s told that the powers she has arent even truly her own but instead are a privilege given to her and can be taken away by the kree if they deem her to be unworthy of them.

her whole life on hala was one of being manipulated and internalizing this idea that she must repress her abilities because theyre a threat to those who want to use her

which makes her final interaction with yon rogg when she tells him that she has nothing to prove to him so cathartic!

i’ve seen a few reviews that say that carol doesnt rly have a character arc bc all she does is “get stronger” rather than undergo an actual internal change but i just... dont think that is true lmao

i understand how her just going from being able to shoot photon blasts to being able to shoot photon blasts but theyre more powerful and also she glows can seem unsatisfying at first?

often in superhero origin films, the heroes gotta be shitty at their powers first and it’s through ~character development~ that their skills grow? i.e. iron man and doc strange for example. even with thor who already had powers and was skilled with them had to lose his powers and undergo character development to regain them in both thor 1&3

but carol is never bad at her powers? shes told and we the audience are told by yon rogg and the supreme intelligence that she cant control her powers well. and so i can see the audience being kinda put off by the fact that theres never any evidence that thats true? but the fact that it’s not true is the whole point.....

carol’s character arc isnt about learning to take up the mantle of a true superhero in the way iron man and doc strange’s movies are about that. carol is already capable of being a hero and her arc is just one of self-discovery and breaking free of the expectations placed on her by those who just want to use her. she has to learn that she doesnt have to repress herself for the benefit of others but instead is free to be the best she can be

and so her already being skilled with her powers isnt a flaw. it serves that arc.

buuuut i think a case can be made on whether or not that arc was executed well. imo i feel like it couldve been done better but as it is it’s fiiine. i will say that although i enjoyed the movie it did feel like it was missing something that hooked me the way that like... black panther or thor ragnarok did?

and that missing something is: while the groundwork for the themes and her character are there, i dont think they were explored thoroughly enough? like they didnt dig deep enough.

bc carol’s whole physical journey is finding out that she’s human and the kree lied to her and... that was kind of obvious from the beginning?? maybe we dont know the specific details and all but when carol finally realizes that yeah! she was a human! it’s like.... ok... we finally got here. i mean it’s not like there were many other roads this mystery couldve gone down

i just think the journey of self discovery shouldnt have taken the sole form of learning that shes human? bc then the betrayal by the kree doesnt really hit as hard as it should. like it makes it feel like the only thing they did wrong to her personally is lie about the fact that shes human and.... i just dont think the fact that shes human is all that relevant?

like yeah the kree being imperialists is enough to want to kick their asses but the protagonist’s relation to their antagonist is important making the stakes feel high and the protagonist’s triumph truly cathartic

them lying to her about being a human just isnt a big enough deal to me especially considering it was foreshadowed real early on already.

instead they shouldve focused on her relationship with the kree and the ways they made her feel like she had to repress herself for their approval. but she spends very little time with the kree. and the closest person to her on hala is yon rogg.... and we dont rly get much info about their relationship either? i did like the scene where she tells him that she has nothing to prove to him... but that wouldve had A LOT more impact if we had seen examples prior to this of how often yon rogg would belittle her or how often she’d have to conform to his expectations for his approval. she has nothing to prove to him by the end of the film but it never rly seemed like she was rly after her approval in the first place? we know when she communes with the first intelligence she expresses a desire to serve in their military and  that’s one instance of expressing a desire for approval buuUUuuuut the supreme intelligence lets her serve immediately after that conversation and on that mission there isnt rly any example of her team not trusting her to do anything? theres no example of her having to conform to their expectations? i mean theres that one scene where she says she’ll go ahead alone and yon rogg said No but that is... an incredibly small thing.

i feel like it’s kind of implied? that carol grew up in an abusive/dysfunctional family and thats part of why the rambeaus made her a part of their own family?? and i kinda wish that was explored more. and instead of her journey being focused soley on finding out she’s human, it’s her gradually connecting the dots between her abusive upbringing on earth and how similar it was to the way the supreme intelligence/yon rogg treated her and her realizing how manipulative they are........... and rather than her finally finding out that they lied to her about being human being her sole personal stake against the kree, it’s instead just the final nail in the coffin and the reveal wouldve had more impact

anyway!! rly hope they explore her character more in her next solo movie whenever that’s happening bc i doubt there’ll be a lot of time for that to happen in endgame

overall i rly like carol and i liked the movie and im honestly a little bitter about ppl saying she has no personality and no character arc! bc she does! it’s there! maybe it’s not as well executed as some other marvel films 

#ten2 talks #you cant escape my movie opinions. this is your burden to bear. youre gonna carry that weight

[sirivsblaxk-blog]

OT3 prompt: Newt and Credence are together and very happy, but a law gets passed where they have to take a third spouse. Enter Percival, who for all his stoicism is actually very lonely. Newt and Credence make it clear that they don't want a third spouse but Percival keeps trying to win their hearts. It all culminates with Newt and Credence getting into trouble and Percival throws himself in harms way to protect them, nearly dying as a result. Now Newt and Credence have to be worthy of Percival

My first go at writing an ot3 hope it goes okay! :)

“Do we really have to?” Credence asks with yet another sigh as he sits at the dining room table.

“Yes love,” Newt replies as he puts a cup of tea down in front of the boy, stroking his soft hair as he walks past him, “But we get to choose.”

“Not that Director guy, right?” Credence asked, he knew the Director had liked Newt at one point and was almost certain the man didn’t like him, “He doesn’t like me. You wouldn’t choose him, right?”

“I said we get to choose Credence, not me.” Newt replies, “We can decide together.”

Newt wasn’t all too sure it would be a good idea to bring someone else into their relationship but Newt was never against trying something new. Whether it worked out or not he would give it a try and let things pan out for themselves.

Credence groaned and dropped his head to the table, “He’s going to try and get to you I know he is!”

Newt rolls his eyes, “So what if he does? He can’t force his way in and if you don’t like him then thats that.”

“Well do you like him?” Credence accused as he looked up at Newt with a frown.

“That’s not what I said.” Newt replies with a huff. He pulls his coat on and leans over to kiss Credence on the head, “I’m going to work, I’ll be back the same time as usual.”

Newt enters the MACUSA building and heads straight over to his office. Director Graves was one of the first people he saw that morning. Newt was a little worried he’d say something but Percival just nodded a good morning and was on his way.

Percival had used to flirt with Newt at one time but Newt had decided to be with Credence instead. He’d thought Percival too serious and stern for him, not the kind of person he would ever be with. He had no problems with the Director with Credence didn’t like him. He was sure the Director hated him because Newt had chosen him over him, but the Director had never done anything to show any hate towards Credence. Actually at any times they had met he was rather civil with him.

Now they were told they would have to take a third person into their relationship, and as Newt had said he had no problems with trying that, but Credence was terrified the Director was going to come and steal him away.

Percival sits in his office, taping his quill against his desk, his hand reaching up to rub his face. He’d been debating with himself all the night before on whether he would say anything to Newt today. He liked Newt, that wasn’t something he’d ever hidden. And now he had the chance to be with him even though Newt was with Credence too. But would Newt just shoot him down again? Probably, and could he handle being rejected by the same person twice? He wasn’t so sure.

He knew Credence didn’t like him so he’d definitely be the hard one to talk round. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Maybe subtle hints to start with. He knew Newt liked flowers, but did Credence like flowers? He really knew nothing that the boy would like, he could try he supposed. Even id he got rejected he decided that he would keep trying until he got somewhere, even just one date.

Newt returned home that evening to see flowers sat on his doorstep, he picked them up and checked for a note. From Percival, of course. Newt walked inside while still looking them over.

“Flowers?” Credence asked, “From the Director I’m guessing?”

“He got you some too,” Newt said handing the bunch signed for Credence to him, “They’re pretty.” Newt comments as he goes into the kitchen to find a vase for them.

“I told you he’d try, didn’t I?” Credence states as he follows Newt into the kitchen.

“You did.” Newt replies simply, taking the flowers back from Credence and putting them in the vase beside his own. “Just appreciate the flowers.” 

Newt smiles and presses a light kiss to his lips, “And stop worrying.” He strokes Credence’s hair and then excuses himself down into the case to feed his creatures before feeding himself and Credence.

The next morning when Newt saw the Director he felt the need to thank him for the flowers. After all it would be rude not to, they were a nice surprise.

“Mr Graves,” Newt calls as he hurries over to him, “I’d like to thank you for the flowers yesterday, on behalf of myself and of Credence.”

Percival smiles and gives him a nod, “It’s no problem. I thought you’d like them.”

“I did.” Newt smiled, part shy part awkward, “Not so sure about credence.” he admitted with a soft laugh.

Percival let out a sigh and nodded, “I thought that’d be the case,” he mentions, “He doesn’t like me. So I understand if you don’t appreciate my gestures.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you…” Newt tries but sighs at the raised eyebrows from Percival, “He’s just worried your going to come and try to…I don’t know.” he mumbles.

“I’m not trying to ruin anything.” Percival reassures him.

Newt just offers him a small smile, “I know that…But it’s probably best if maybe…”

“I can take the hint.” Percival gives him a kind smile, “I have to go. Meeting with the President.” he nods and walks off up the stairs.

Newt lets out a long breath of air and heads slowly over to his own office. He felt bad but he knew he had to do that for Credence. At least Percival had seemed to take it well.

“Yes Credence for the last time, he was fine with it.” Newt sighs as he asks the waiter for their bill so that they could go home.

“I’m just checking,” Credence explains, “I just wanted to be sure.”

Newt quickly pays the bill and he and Credence head out into the street for the short walk home.

“So, who are we going to choose?” Credence asks as they walk down the street, Newts hand resting lightly on the small of his back.

“I don’t know,” Newt replies, he hadn’t really thought about it in all honestly, “I’m sure we’ll find someone eventually.”

Newt jumps in shock as a figure comes from the alleyway beside them and grabs Credence, pulling him into the darkness shortly followed by Newt.

“Hey! Who are you? Let him go!” He calls, casting lumos from his wand and seeing Credence being held by a man he didn’t recognise.

“You work for MACUSA.” he accuses nodding over to Newt, “You’re gonna do something for me or I’m gonna hurt your friend here.”

Newt looks between the man and Credence, “Wha-What do you want me to do?” He asks as Credence shakes his head at him.

“You’re going to take me into the evidence room. Now. There’s some things I need to collect.” the man explains, pulling Credence closer and shoving his wand up under Credence’s neck.

“I don’t have access to the evidence room…” Newt explains. It wasn’t exactly a lie, only aurors were allowed in the evidence room, thats not to say he couldn’t get in if he wanted to.

“I didn’t ask if you had access! I said you’re taking me there!” he all but yells at him, shaking Credence in his hands as if to exaggerate what was at stake.

“Fine…Okay I’ll-” Newt was cut off when the man was grabbed from behind and threw into the wall opposite them, Credence ran from his spot into Newts arms and Newt gladly gathered him in his grasp.

Flashes of light were now dancing in front of them as the two men battled. Newt noticed the newcomer was none other than Percival Graves. Both Newt and Credence watched anxiously, Newt wanted to help but he didn’t want to leave Credence on his own again. Besides, Percival was a strong man, he could look after himself.

But something distracted the man and he was disarmed, then spell after spell bounced off of his chest, soon sending him into a heap on the floor. Newt almost jumped up to help but aurors started apparating in and the man was tackled to the floor. 

Newt hurried over to Percival with Credence on his heels, kneeling down beside the man and rolling him onto his back, “Mr Graves?” Newt asks. Percival opens his eyes and looks up at Newt.

“Hi,” He says with a hoarse voice, “Sorry if I didn’t help.”

Newt shook his head, “You were disarmed but you did great. He’s being arrested as we speak.” Newt smiles.

“Thank you, Director.” Credence says quietly from behind him, “For saving me.”

Percival nods his head, “It’s my job.” he replies. True it was his job, but Newt had a feeling he knew it was Credence being held and that was another reason he’d rushed to help.

Newt let Percival be taken off to be checked over by a couple mediwizards and turned to Credence with a soft smile.

“He’s not such a bad man, is he?” Newt asked with a grin, taking Credence by the waist and pulling him against his chest.

Credence sighed but shook his head, “No,” he finally replies, “Maybe we could take him out on a date. On one date.”

Newt laughs softly and nods his head, leaning forward to press a kiss to Credence’s lips.

#gramander #newtxcredencexpercival #credence barebone #crewt #gradence #percival graves #newt scamander #fanfic #prompt

[tumblunni]

also the final dungeon sucked and am i like the only one who hated the whole twist entirely? literally the only good bit was that mr never before foreshadowed trash hype killer villain god disguised himself as igor that was a good twist if it was anyone else, if it was a random npc like with p4′s deity final boss, then it would have had no redeeming qualities seriously it was SO THEMATICALLY BAD seriously shido is SUCH a climax boss and you have actual reasons to hate him and an actual grudge and it feels good to kick his ass! even if his boss design is stupid looking! yaldabaoth is just... nobody he’s an abstract representation of the theme of the whole plot, which already got answered it was SO DUMB to just have out of nowhere everyone learns the same lesson again in a giant literal metaphor way dude we ALREADY answered the questions about ‘whether humanity prefers to be obedient and enslaved rather than make their own choices’ and it was so artificial that public opinion of the phantom thieves suddenly tanks to 0 after they save the day?? if everyone forgot about us cos of evil godman brainwashing then HOW IS THIS A LESSON THATS BEING LEARNED. They just had to love us EVEN MORE so they were able to break the rbainwashing! like seriously it was just like.. you wanted some excuse to have everyone cheer on the phantom thieves as they watch the battle why not just have all that happen WITH SHIDO I mean he’s said to have stolen a bunch of metaverse research and know all about it it would make him much more of a threat if he did more with that say that HE is the one using mementos to brainwash the public have the phantom theieves fade from existance cos of that ‘kill myself to collapse my own palace’ plot shido did have it like.. it looks like eveyrone got out fast enough, theyre right at the entrance to the real world, but its just too late everyone fades away seeing the real world in the distance and screaming for anyone to grab their hand, but nobody sees them same effect same scene, just with shido and without three more hours of repetitive plot and a terrible TERRIBLE final dungeon! you could even still have the whole thing of the velvet room attendants fighting back against igor and saving you and then you go back and do the final fight just have it like.. igor was actually good and it was all a test, he faked betraying you. cos this is your final test- standing up to the ultimate authority figure. and he congratulates you for overcoming his challenge, and like.. reveal that the entire prison warden thing was a test for justine and caroline. they were the ones being rehibilitated. like, a test to gain free will that he always does for each new attendant. OR just have the same plot of evil igor imposter and stuff, but we dont need to have it happen after shido’s plot and lead to just goddamn repetition of p4 izanami withoutr any of the characetr development. Seriously he doesnt even get any moral ambiguity or anything! He’s just evil! He doesnt even really believe he’s doing what humanity wants! And him acting as your helper for fuckin 90 HOURS wasnt like a sign of character complexity or anyting, it as just a lie! Think of how much more interesting it could have been if yaldabaoth had a plot like ryoji, like he’s the human form of a god created to destroy everything but he ended up developing genuine affection for the protagonists and regretting the role he must inevitably play. That would have been repetitive but the plot we got is repetitive anyway!! and like seriously just SOMETHING SOMETHING somehow make him working with shido! remove the ENTIRE FINAL DUNGEON. It was padding in a game that was SO RUSHED aside from this damn moment! take that screentime and flesh out haru’s screentime more! DAMN YOOOOOOU have shido being a super mastermind who’s working with this evil god have shido be a wild card, even?? or have him as someone who’s like.. his pride and jealousy caused him to make a pact with this evil god in order to gain like.. fake wild card powers. He’s not able to actually use the metaverse on his own, he’s relied on manipulating his trash son,  and now he’s without even that option he gets so desperate he WILL NOT ACCEPT his loss and goes all super saiyan by fusing with yaldabaoth. Yaldabaoth’s lack of personality doesnt really matter here, because he’s being a plot element instead of a final boss all on his lonesome. He could even be more sympathetic, cos all we see of him is as a mcguffin holy grail acting as the warden to everyone who GENUINELY wishes for imprisonment rather than free will. We dont get to hear his voice, we dont get to see him brainwashing people who clearly didnt make that choice, just to repeat an already-answered question about whether humanity as a whole would make that choice. Its just ‘hey here’s a mcguffin that exists because of the suicidal wishes of humans, and shido has stolen it and is using it to power up, holy shit’. And all we know about yaldabaoth is that he/they/it wants to grant wishes, and has no morality to determine which are good or bad. Not that its a fuckhead with dreams of granduer who wants to trick everybody into wishes they didnt ask for, and has NO PERSONALITY instead of being izanami WITHOUT PERSONALITY and just... GAHHH So yeah like BLINDSIDED, SLAP IN THE FACE, we thought we defeated shido, we were trying to grab the holy grail but WHOOPS HE’S BACK AND HE GRABBED IT. Like, after the whole climactic ‘shido is collapsing his own palace’ scene, when everyone leaves the velvet room they’re just at the site of that locked door, skipping the whole shitty dungeon. And then we see the holy grail right there and we get the exposition about it right there, and how it could reverse all of shido’s bullshit at the cost of ending the metaverse, blah. No need for a boring month of being unable to do anything but see cutscene after cutscene of BUT WE DEFEATED SHIDO BUT NOTHING IS HAPPENING. And then like.. SURPRISE! Shido isnt really dead! we accidentally led him right to this mcguffin that he can now use to become SuperFinalBossmanRematchMode. And this is where we get the exposition of how he didnt really die, it was a fake death pill. OR, if we wanna get EVEN MORE climactic goodness, maybe shido DID die from that, and now like.. his soul is trapped in the cognitive world forever as this horrifying shadow fusion thing and he’s still whining about how its your fault and taking no responsibility for his actions. So SUPER SMACKDOWN TO FINALLY END IT ONCE AND FOR ALL! And its still high stakes cos its all ‘holy shit it should be impossible for him to still exist’ and ‘holy shit he fuckin ate a god’. And like, if yaldabaoth got fuckin bitchslapped before he could even be a presence in the plot. ‘Yeah hey i was pretending to be igor- ARRGH HOLY SHIT SHIDO NO’ Mr actual climatic boss reclaims his throne, rather literally. Makes him more imposing than he is when he’s really just another palace ruler and you never even confront the real world shido or anything. I mean you kinda already beat his plans when you removed his only minion who could access the metaverse, you just do the rest of the palace to collapse his career too... and then like fuckin.. somehow have the same thing where the metaverse and real world start blending. But it’d even have a better explanation than just Yaldabaoth Can Do That, I Guess, And He Didn’t Do It Until Right Now Because Reasons. You could say its like a consequence of the metaverse revolting at shido’s running away from death. Say his willpower is so strong that he can fuckin fuck up reality with it! His ego is THAT big! And then hoodly boo, same thing with everyone cheering you on so you summon satan and save christmas. But the final boss could look less stupid than a fuckin faceless art studio model made of chrome that pulls a gun out of its butt. Or I mean it could look even more stupid, it could just ahve shido’s shit face pasted on top XD But shido’s already proven that he can give a climactic boss fight even while looking like a dumbass wearing too many ShakeWeights(tm)! OR ORRRRRR Instant fix that could LITERALLY make the whole thing better without changing any dialogue except one namebox. Just say Yaldabaoth is someone else. Just give him the name of a fan favourite villain from early persona *COUGH NYARTHALOTEP COUGH* It would fit better with the YEAHHHHH BOYYY factor of his big twist of being fake igor, it would keep that hype going instead of murdering it with a personalityless villain and eight floors of just stairs and light puzzles. EVEN BETTER if they actually did go far enough to make it a proper nyarly cameo and give him a design as cool as his old ones. Like seriously the thing of being twisted representations of everyone’s parents would work SO WELL here thematically! it could be a rgeat moment to FINALLY see and hear more about protagonist’s parents! And like half the party has issues with family that we already saw in the other palaces, so it could be a great fake boss rush style memory lane of all those guys. instead of just pulling guns out his butt that cast all the same status effects. It could be ESPECIALLY good for GIVING POOR HARU MORE SCREENTIME AND DEVELOPMENT. Seriously, just imagine how fucked up it would be to see a twisted fake dad doll attatched to some fucker’s tentacle face, all these months after he died? it was a good idea to at least mention how he was the only palace owner who died, but it was a shame it meant he was also the only one who didnt get to cameo here and give the corresponding party member some more dialogue and developments. Especially cos Haru is fuckin awesome against bosses! HARU 4 EVARRRR But seriously even if everything was exactly the same and they just made one small reference to some character we already know something about, at least it would give us some frame of reference for yaldabaoth’s actual goddamn motives. who in the FUCK thinks its a good idea to tape on an extra 10 hours after the climactic boss to give us Nobody Mc Grail who Does Bad Cos He Want To. Srsly its like if P4 ended with ameno-sagiri and didnt even have all that izanami stuff and moral ambiguity and seriously i am gaining SO MUCH appreciation for how they managed to make a sudden unforeshadowed boss have AN ACTUAL SOUL. And she related to the themes of the story without being repetitive!  Still not as good as nyx/ryoji in my opinion, but it wasnt just ‘we are contractually obliged to throw in 1 (one) Evil God (tm) at the last second, because its a persona game’ the final scene was good, the everything else wasnt 100 Yes to Satan Saving Christmas Thank God for Giant Bullet Blow His Face Off but not THIS PARICULAR GOD because he is a detestable flaw in a game that I loved very much! at least he got fuckin sploded and got a good ‘im fucked’ face without even having a face. Seriously that brief REACTION SHOT was sooooo fuckin cathartic! his ONLY PERSONALITY he ever got was being a smug asshole who thinks he’s the best final boss ever, and we got an actual moment of ‘ha ha ha ha i win i win, i- OHHOTDIGGITYJESUSCHRIST’ *splat* thanks satan now can we seriously have no more evil gods ever, they have officially outlived their welcome can satan just shoot all of them in the head before they even get to be in the story ilu satan (also im curious now to do more research on ‘satanael’ and see what the difference even is about this form? is it just a different aspect of the christian devil like how satan and lucifer are also available in this game? or is satanael actually just a different mythological figure and the whole ‘satan saves christmas’ meme is just cos they sound similar?)

#p5 spoilers