#also he shouldn't have thrown out the plant

[snonkerdoodlefizzy221b]

just watched season 1 of good omens. i have ideas brewing

[lis-likes-fics]

A Christmas Movie

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x spider!Reader Word Count: 5.4k exactly Kink: Size Kink Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, size difference, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, love vomits, Miguel speaking Spanish… A/N: This is a few hours late but I literally finished it five minutes ago. Miguel describes the reader as tiny a lot, but it is only meant in comparison to him, not as a physical description of the reader. Thank you! Also A/N: This can be read as a sequel to this oneshot, but can also be read as a standalone. Thank you and enjoy!

“Is this necessary?”

You rub your side as you lay on the floor, an ache in your muscles as you get thrown to the hard floor again. Looking up at him, you move to stand. “Yes.”

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest, his gray hoodie loose enough not to allow you the pleasure of seeing his muscles bulging through the material. “Why?” he asks, waiting patiently for you to recover before he advances again.

You stretch your arms over your head, feeling your back pop with a heavy sigh. “Well, you saw my attempt just then. You threw me like a fucking ragdoll.”

He shrugs. “Are you ready?”

You sigh, shifting back into your starting stance.

“Firmer stance. I shouldn't be able to move you.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Of course you should. Have you seen yourself? You're huge…in more ways than one.” You smirk at him.

He just rolls his own eyes in return. “It should be harder to push you. If I can use my finger to make you fall, your stance is flimsy.”

“You can use your finger to make me fall apart any day.”

He ignores you. He walks over to you, ignoring your remarks as he fixes your stance. He nudges one leg further from the other, widening your feet before pressing down on your shoulders to lower you slightly. He shoves you, you stay standing.

“Better. Do that,” he says.

“You're so grumpy,” you mumble.

A chill rushes up your spine and your right cheek flutters with heat. Ducking, you narrowly miss Miguel's fist to your face. “Dude, what the fu–!”

You backflip, landing in a crouch as he went for another attack, this time aimed at your feet. “Always be on guard. I could have knocked you out,” he instructs, still coming toward you.

His webs shoot toward you, and you act quickly as you jump up once again. You flip before planting your feet off a wall and jumping off just as fast to fly over his head. Another web threatens to wrap around your body, you block it with your own web.

Miguel bounds after you. When you land, you shoot your webs at him one right after the other. He dodges them all, nearing you like a colossus. When he's close enough, you flip back again and spring off your hands. Your foot almost makes contact with his face, but he turns just in time to step out of the way, grabbing you midair and throwing you away.

You're about to fly into a wall when you manage to change your position enough to bounce off of it. He isn't fast enough to catch you this time. You hook your leg around his neck and manage to wrap them both there quickly. You squeeze your thighs tight around him. He reaches up to grab you, and you web his face to blind him.

Miguel's hands grip your body, but you tighten your legs around him and lean back with as much force as you can muster. You shoot webs to the floor, gripping them tight to add some strength as you manage to flip him forward. He lands hard on the floor, and you land in a perfect crouch.

He groans at the impact, moving to rip the webs from his face quickly to an attempt to stay on the attack. But while he's distracted, you web his hands to his face and web his foot to the floor, shooting a few extra for good measure.

He rips the webs on his hands almost too easily, breaking free from the restraints. In one swipe, his foot is free. He comes for you immediately, pouncing at a surprising speed.

You roll onto your back, propping your knees to your chest. You manage to maneuver him so he flies past you. He rolls to avoid another hard hit to the floor.

The chill in your spine is just a second too late. His webs shoot at you. You lose your balance as you try to stand, and you fall back in the middle of turning to face him. In the next second, he's on top of you, a hand around your throat and your hands pinned above your head.

His face is inches from your own, his breath heavy and his eyes are nearly glowing red with exertion. “What were you waiting for?” His voice is insistent and rough, high on adrenaline.

A shiver blossoms through you, a rush of pleasantness prickling your skin. Your breath is shallow and quick. As you stare up at him, wide-eyed and also on an adrenaline rush, you smirk. “Do we always end up like this?”

He tilts his head, confusion finding its way to his face. Then he remembers. You're in the training hall, this is just practice, and you're you.

He rolls his eyes, and the adrenaline seems to fade. He doesn't get up. “You're smaller than me, which makes you faster. You can't let down your guard, and you can't slow down for any reason.”

You huff. “Okay, but that kick thing was impressive.”

He stares at you, debating. Then he shrugs, “Wasn't bad.”

Again, you roll your eyes. “Get off me. You're heavy.”

He does, moving to stand and give you room to do the same. “Okay,” you stretch. “Let's go again.”

“No. Go home.”

You straighten your spine immediately, surprise taking your face. “What? No!”

He peels his hoodie off, leaving his top bare as he walks over to the shelf of towels. “Yes. Go.”

You run over to him, blocking his way. “We don't have to train, you know. We could…” You pause to think, clapping when you have it. “We could watch the surveillance systems! I love the surveillance systems!”

He raises a brow, walking past you. You walk with him. “You hate the surveillance systems.”

You pause. “I do hate them. But you'll be there anyway.”

He stops, looking down at you, unamused. He brings his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Go home,” he says, looking at you now. “It’s Christmas. You should be…” he thinks for a moment, “out spending time with friends. Not here…looking at surveillance with me.”

You shrug. “Okay, then we can do something else together.”

“Isn’t there some Christmas party for you to go to?” He starts walking. You follow at his side, shrugging again as you nod your head.

“Hobie’s throwing one in his dimension, yeah,” you mumble. “But I’m not there. I’m here.”

He stops again, turning his full body to face you with a raised brow. “Why are you here? Why don’t you just go home?”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly as your gaze slips from his. You sigh, letting the silence stretch a moment too long as you come to terms with saying it. “I have no one waiting for me at home.” Miguel’s stare softens, becoming a little more sympathetic as he processes your words. “And, like you said, it’s Christmas. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

He looks at you again. With a sigh, he shakes his head gently. “You’re too nice to me.”

You smile, accepting his defeat. “I know. Go get your shower. I’ll see you after.”

One day, he'll tell you.

~

Miguel’s shirt swallows you whole as you pull it over your head. It’s huge and gray, and it hangs at your knees , sagging off your shoulder. Your fuzzy socks are pulled up to your mid-leg, silencing your steps as you walk to the side table.

Miguel’s room in HQ is small, almost like a mediocre hotel room—the tiny room with a single bed and drawer (minus the TV) that nearly takes up the whole space, a tiny closet, a tiny bathroom, and a tiny living room with an okay-sofa and a TV. He has a small area for a coffee maker, a fridge, a cabinet, and a microwave, but that’s as much of a kitchen he has. A mediocre hotel room. He has a house, but he doesn’t go there often.

He comes out of the bathroom, steam rising from his shoulders as his white towel hangs low on his waist, He’s still dripping with water, tiny droplets from strands of hair, little tears streaming down his skin. He’s beautiful. You look away from him.

You pick up two DVDs from the side table, turning the cases over in your hands to examine the front. “Okay, so I got these from Movie-Verse.”

“Movie-Verse,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair as his broad body stands in front of his dresser. He opens the third drawer and grabs the first pair of shorts he sees.

“Yeah, the movie store next to the cafeteria. Has a ton of movies from all the ‘verses.” You wave a hand dismissively, setting one of the cases down and taking the other in both hands. “Anyway, I picked this up. It’s called The Nightmare Before Christmas by some guy named Tim Burton.” You use a mysterious voice when you say the title, stretching the drama. “I think it would be cool.”

He finishes patting dry the water from his skin, tossing the towel onto the bed to pull his shorts on. “Sounds like a Halloween movie.” His tone is flat. He seems almost bored, his face dropped into that grumpy expression he’s taken on.

“Well, yeah,” you shrug, “but it says Christmas on it. Look.”

You toss the case to him. He catches it in one hand effortlessly, his gaze fixed on the drawer he was closing. He examines the front. “There’s a skeleton on it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you matter-of-factly. “Put it in. We’re watching it.” He does as he’s told. You go to his little kitchenette and pull open the fridge. “Do you like eggnog?”

He’s retrieved his towel once more, rubbing it over his wet hair. His muscles flex with every little movement. Part of you wants to make a sly comment, but you refrain.

“No.”

“Yeah. Me, neither,” you hum. You close the fridge, pulling open the cabinet to retrieve two glasses he has stowed away (one that had already been in his cabinet and one you’d put there for yourself months ago). “I just got wine and hot cocoa.”

He practically grunts as a reply. He sounds uninterested, unimpressed. Your pep sours, and you feel yourself physically deflate as you try and fail to brush off his seeming apathy. You set the glasses down with a gentle click and fidget with the fabric of the oversized shirt.

Your voice is small when you speak, almost embarrassed. “Do you want me to leave?”

He looks up at you then, directing his attention. His brows furrow as he holds the remote in his hand, which dwarfs the “tiny” device. “What?”

You shuffle from one foot to the other, feeling awkward. “I can go if you want… Hobie has that Christmas party, like I said, and… I can just go there if you don’t want me here.” The last part comes out choppy, your lips unwilling to form the words, your mouth reluctant to speak it.

There’s a long pause as he stares at you. His furrowed brows soften, and he takes in the sight of you. You’re wearing his shirt, and it looks huge on you. He can see the outline of your soft panties through the material of it. You’ve got on fuzzy socks, long ones that cover most of your leg and your hair is set free.

You look shy. It’s something he doesn’t see often. You relish in dirty jokes and confident suggestiveness. You’re sarcastic, and you thrive on the sass you hand to him. Even during the times where he has your body in his hands, off on another rendezvous to release stress—his and yours—you still hold that glint of mischief and wit.

You look sad. You look sad and small, and he hates himself for making you look that way.

Miguel’s shoulders fall. He turns his body to face you, taking naturally large steps to stand in front of you. You have to crane your neck just to look up at him, but your disheartedness only allows you to reach his chest before giving up.

He raises a hand to your chin and lifts it just a little more so you can see his face, which he tilts down this time to better view you. He sighs and speaks softly, earnestly. “I want you here.”

You blink once, searching his face as your gaze shifts between his plump lips and his russet brown eyes. “Are you sure?”

He leans forward slowly, giving you time (partially because it’s quite the journey) before gently pressing his lips to yours. It’s far too gentle and far too sweet, but you relish it anyway. They’re gone just as quickly as they came as he pulls away just enough to break the kiss.

“I’m sure,” he says.It almost sounds pleading when he says, “Stay.”

His eyes examine your face for another couple of seconds before he steps away from you, lets his hands fall back down to his side. “I have a blanket you can use.”

You breathe a tiny chuckle out of your nose, effectively reassured by his warm and gentle plea. “Is it big?” you smile, considering his offer.

He shrugs a shoulder, beginning to turn on his heel when he shoots a rare smile at you over that same shoulder. “For you.”

It makes you giddy, your courage slowly returning. “I’m not that small.”

His back turned to you, he continues. “You’re right. You’re smaller.”

You roll your eyes at him, turning toward the counter again. You unscrew the wine bottle to begin pouring. You shake your head as you chuckle a little. “Oh, fuck off.”

He opens his tiny closet and pulls out a cream colored blanket (basically a thin duvet). He picks the remote up again, sitting on the sofa with his legs spread wide. He makes the couch look tiny. “You look even smaller in that. Mujer pequeña.”

You move into a pose, pretending to be sexy. “You like?” You wink comically at him.

He licks his bottom lip. “Are you going to sit?”he asks, avoiding the question.

You giggle to yourself, pouring the dark wine. “You love.” You carry the glasses to the sofa.

He's already started the movie, not that you mind. The music starts, the billowing of wind whistling in the background to set a spooky tone.

“The first song is literally saying it's Halloween,” he comments, lifting his hand from his lap, your feet kicking up and resting on his lap as you pass him his glass. He takes it and spreads open the blanket.

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, “you make me sick.”

He lifts the glass to his lips. “You chose it.” He takes a sip from his glass, resting his hand on your ankle as his thumb strokes the skin over it.

You both sit and watch the movie in silence. You tuck the blanket closer. You sip tentatively at your cup as you direct your gaze at the screen. You miss the way Miguel's eyes linger on you, his gaze tracing the features of your face: the length of your nose, the curve of your lips. He memorizes the details of your face before he realizes he's been staring too long. He looks away.

Another little while passes of being hyperaware of you before he glances over again, noticing your glass go to your lips as you take a sip. He sighs silently. “Come here.”

You look at him, humming. He waves his hand invitingly, You move the blanket, setting your glass on the table. You sit next to him, snuggling into his side. He reaches over your body as his hand lands on your hip.

Miguel lifts you, pulling your body over his lap to straddle him. Your hands fall to his shoulders. He shows his affection the only way he knows how. He kisses you.

You hum lightly, pulling away from his lips and dipping your head, looking down at his chest instead of his eyes. You smile to cover your discontent as you lower your hands to his waist. “Is this why you wanted me to stay?”

His knuckles trace your cheek. “I want you to stay because, surprisingly, I enjoy your company,” he jokes.

You chuckle half-heartedly. “I'm like that.”

There's more quiet in the next pause as his eyes look over your face. “Why did you want to stay so bad?”

You look at him, biting your lower lip. “I told you.”

He rolls his eyes, chuckling lightly as his hands stroke your thighs, over the curve of your ass. “Yeah, ‘no one should be alone on Christmas’. But, like you said, Hobie’s got his party. You have plenty of friends there.” He glances over your face. “Why aren't you?”

You lick your lip, turning your head away. Another song plays quietly in the background, the sound of sleigh bells and horns and clarinets creating a holiday symphony behind you. You wanna gloat. “Ha, I was right. It is a Christmas movie.”

You sigh gently, the tips of your ears hot and the pit of your stomach fluttering.

“I don't want you to be alone.”

He takes a breath in, inclining his head just a bit as he considers your response. His eyes flutter as he stares at your face, seemingly entranced. You look back at him, unflinching.

“You're too nice to me.”

You smile. “I know.”

“You deserve better than me.”

Your eyes flutter at that and your heart stops beating for half a second. You're warm, and you laugh as you speak, “What's that mean?”

He glances away as he sighs, looking back at you with an expression that's almost pained. His heart is heavy in his chest, and he holds his breath a little when you lift your hands back to his shoulders.

“Don't make me say it,” he almost whispers, his eyes pleading. “Please don't make me say it.”

You hesitate, staring at him as your heart hammers against your chest. Your breath is thin. “Say what?”

“Corazón… I–” he breathes in, his voice reluctant, “–haven't said this in a long time.”

You move your hands from his shoulders to cup his face, making him look at you and taking away his option to turn the other way. If he's going to say it, you need to hear it. You need to be sure. “Said what, Miguel?”

He breathes, staring into your eyes and softening.

Tonight, he'll tell you.

“I'm in love with you.”

Silence strikes the room. The movie plays in the background, long forgotten in both your minds as the quiet and the tension drones on. Your skin prickles, your brain is fuzzy, your mouth is slightly agape.

Miguel stares at you, you do not blink. You stare at Miguel, he does not blink. The silence stretches. He's desperate.

“Please say something.”

“I love you.”

His heart pounds at the confession, but he doesn't believe it. This kind of thing doesn't happen. “N–”

“No. I love you, Miguel,” you promise, leaning closer to his face and holding him a little tighter. “I'm in love with you.”

His mouth crashes down upon yours, a clash of lips and teeth and tenderness and insistence. You moan lightly into his mouth, standing on your knees just enough to get some height on him as you kiss him back just as eagerly as he. Fire burns in your belly, in your face, licking at your flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair and fuel it.

He begins to turn you to lay you on the couch. You press on his chest, encouraging him back so he's on his own instead. His hands fall to your thighs as you straddle his waist, his shorts and your panties the only thing separating the two of you. You bend down against his body to continue kissing him with everything you have.

Miguel whispers your name against your lips, moreso when your hips grind against him. His hands smooth along your skin, dipping under his huge shirt on you to feel your waist with his gentle but insistent touch. Your hands roam his chest, feeling his soft skin over his hard muscles, enchanted by the way he feels under you. He relishes in your touch, hypnotized.

“Your hands are so small,” he mutters, his fingers lightly digging into your sides.

You chuckle lightly, losing your breath as you speak. “You’re just big.”

He smiles against your lips, his hands on your hips moving you slowly up and down on top of him. But, like you said, he’s big. Your hips grind over his belly, but the movement alone is enough to make you moan. You sigh heavily against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak as your brows knit together.

“Miguel,” you breathe. “I need you.”

He nods, reaching a hand to the back of your head to encourage you into another kiss. “I know, baby, I know,” he whispers. He opens his eyes to see you, and he loses his breath at the sight of you: disheveled with desire for him. You open your eyes to look at him, and he can see the way you gaze at him, like he’s everything to you.

His hand slips from your waist, down the length of your body until he’s dipping it between your legs. You bite your bottom lip as you moan at the way his fingers graze the thin fabric covering your pussy. Your whole body shudders at the feeling, and he just watches you react to him.

He rubs his finger teasingly over you, feeling as you slowly become more and more wet as he does. You grind your hips into his hand, eager to feel him. “You want my fingers in you, baby?” he says, his voice low and rough. “You want ‘em to stretch out this little pussy for my cock?”

“Please,” you mewl.

He's weak as he dips his finger underneath your panties and slips it past your folds, working it into you as he watches your lips part at the sensation. You grind against his hand, seeking more of him as his thick finger slowly moves in and out of your warmth. When you're slicked up enough, he slips another one inside. And then a third.

His fingers thrust in and out of you, slowly building in speed as he seeks out your delicious moans, the way your eyes flutter and your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

“So pretty,” he mutters. “Your little moans sound so pretty, querida. I love them.”

You breathe soundly, squeezing around his thick fingers as he curls them inside of you. “Fuck, Miguel,” you moan. “Mm, keep going.”

He does, spreading you open with his fingers as he gets you nice and slick for him. His cock is painfully hard now, restrained by his shorts as it tents them. He feels like he'll explode just watching you. As you continue to grind your hips down on his hand, he shifts his thumb over your clit and begins to rub circles over it. “Mírate. See how beautiful you are, mi pequeña cosa?”

Your breath blows heavily through parted lips. His words play over and over in your head. “I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you.” You moan and hold the sides of his face, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks as the pleasure rises within you.

“‘M gonna cum,” you shudder, your pussy clenching around his fingers.

He curls his fingers some more, massaging them inside of you against that spongy spot he knows you adore. “Cum for me, chiquita.”

You do, mouth parting and eyes squeezing as the wave of pleasure washes over you. He feels you tighten and untighten around his fingers, encouraging your spasms by pumping them through it. You moan his name, slowly coming down from the pleasure as your hips jerk at the feeling of his fingers.

He pulls them out of you, bringing you down into another kiss as his lips slide against yours. “You did so good for me,” he sighs, leaning into you as you hum against him.

You pull at his shorts, pushing them down his thick thighs to get them off him. He actually helps you, kicking them off and leaving him bare as you continue to straddle him with his shirt draping low on your body.

You go to take it off, but he stops you, his hand on yours. “No,” he says. “You look perfect in it.”

He set his hands on your hips once more, raising you to hover over his cock. He stops, waiting for you. You want to kiss him again, biting your lip roughly as you whisper. “Please.” You stroke his face, “I need you.”

He’s weak. He can do nothing but comply as he lines you up with him, letting you down just enough to squeeze the head of him inside you. You moan, closing your eyes at the feeling as he holds you steady with a grunt. It’s you who lets him sink deeper inside, grinding your hips against his cock as you make him lower you.

He stretches you out, a delicious stretch you could never grow used to as you moan all the way down. When he’s buried to the hilt with you sitting properly above him, he groans. “Fuck, I love this little pussy,” he grunts. “You always take me so well.”

You huff, catching your breath as you roll your hips slightly, shuddering at the pleasure. “So big,” you mutter, gripping his hips as you give yourself another moment to get used to his size before rolling your hips again. The feeling is electric, sets off a deep hunger in your belly that has you grinding down on him so desperately.

“You like that?” he breathes. “‘Course you do. My tiny girl loves it when I stretch her out like this.”

You roll your hips over him, moaning as his cock presses deep inside of you. His hands slip underneath your shirt, feeling your waist as he helps you grind down on him. Your rhythm is slow and measured, feeling everything. Every little roll, every little squeeze, every little ridge of his cock dragging against your walls.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you moan again, relishing in him.

He smiles, continuing to watch as you fall apart on top of him. You feel him sit up, one of his hands wrapping tightly around your waist. You open your eyes to look at him, whimpering when he slips his cock out of you.

“Shh,” he says, flipping you onto your back as his massive body towers over you, his size that of a predator but the gentleness of his touch and the care in his eyes that of a man who loves a woman. “I’m gonna take care of you, mi corazón.”

His eyes stay glued to yours when he thrusts back in. Both your moans rumble in your throats as you watch each other. He rocks his hips back and forth inside you, thrusting so deep and pulling out so far before doing it all over again.

He holds onto your tight as he fills you with his cock, so wrapped up in you as you moan and squeeze around him. The pace, still slow, picks up as he thrusts deep within you, grinding against the deepest part of you with a groan in the back of his throat.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you bury your face in his chest. “Fuck, that’s good,” you whisper.

He manages to kiss your forehead, his hand slipping underneath you to encourage his steady rhythm as you continue to clench. His other hand finds your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he builds you up for another orgasm.

You tense, your walls fluttering around him at the feeling of his thumb on your clit. He grunts at the feeling of it, ready to fall apart as he watches you. “I love you, mi amor.” You shudder at the words. “I love your little body. I love your little smile. I love your little eyes. I love your stupid little jokes and the way…the way you care about me too much.”

You cradle his face in your hands, melting at his confessions. “I love you,” he says again, his voice spent and his breath speeding up as you squeeze around his cock and moan his name like a spell.

“Miguel, I…” you moan, the pleasure building into a knot in your stomach as you get ready to explode. You breathe in and you keep breathing in as he presses a little harder on your clit, circles a little harder as you clench him so tight.

Your eyes shut and your lips part as you come, moaning loudly as the ecstasy washes over you like a crashing wave. You roll your hips up into the pleasure, whimpering when he presses himself as deeply inside of you as he can go, grinding and intensifying every little feeling.

Miguel almost collapses on top of you when he cums, dropping his head down and grunting with a heavy breath as he spills inside of you, nearly fucking into you as he does. He moans something under his breath, all his muscles tensing as he keeps pumping his cock into you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

It’s a while before you both come down, catching your breaths as the pleasure wanes and leaves a pleasant buzz in your bones. He pulls out of you, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He sits up to pull some of his weight off you, though you keep him down by his waist to feel his body still looming over you. He brushes his fingers over your forehead, your heavy eyelids fluttering open.

“Fuck,” you sigh, looking up at him with a sticky smile. You readjust yourself so you can see his face better, taking it in your hands and pulling him down to kiss his lips. The kiss is soft, a gentle embrace as you take your time to pour your care into it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back at him, kissing him again and then whispering it once more. He smiles. It’s a slow and small smile that spreads over his lips. For a moment, he forgets about all the fears and pains and dangers of love and just thinks about you. How much he loves you. He kisses you again.

“And I was fuckin’ right,” you smile, a gentle chuckle in your chest.

He hums. “About?”

“It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

It takes him a moment to realize what you were talking about. It’s just then when he remembers the movie still playing in the background, another slow song in the background from the one girl that was meant to be a play on Frankenstein’s monster. He doesn’t remember her name, he wasn’t paying much attention.

He laughs. It isn’t a small laugh either. He throws his head and closes his eyes as a loud, booming laugh erupts from his chest and fills the room. It’s so genuine and so electric, you can’t help your own as you join his excitement.

You both laugh for a while, calming down enough for him to kiss you again and say, “You are right.” He takes a breath, staring down at you with a wide smile. “It is a fuckin’ Christmas movie.”

You giggle again, sighing deeply as you pull his weight down on top of you (though he still holds most of it to keep from crushing your tiny body). You hum, speaking in a quiet whisper. “I love you.”

Miguel wraps you in his arms and turns you both around so you’re laying on top of him. He pulls the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor and spreads it over your body, slipping his hand under your shirt so he touches your bare back.

“Merry Christmas,” he mutters, letting out a slow breath. “I love you.”

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm Tag yourself here…

[maddy-ferguson]

a thread by twitter user @tugunl about life in palestine i thought i would translate and share. it was posted in august, so "before october 7th". most of the pictures are screenshots of videos i couldn't include, i linked them at the start of each relevant paragraph. op was told that he shouldn't defend palestine and didn't know what he was talking about because he didn't live there. what he reported after spending over a month in palestine:

A few months ago, this person criticized me for defending Palestine without even having lived there. And it was true. So I went to live there. After spending more than a month there, here is the reality of Palestinian daily life:

First, this individual claimed that "Israelis have no right to go to Arab territories". This is completely untrue. Here is an example of an Israeli colony, established in the Palestinian Territory. There are several others. You can see Israeli settlers walking peacefully in Palestinian Territories. There are now several hundred thousand living there.

Another example of a colony: In Hebron, Israelis live in the city center, right above Palestinians. But of course, you wouldn't want them to mix and live together: they put barbed wire to separate them. Above, Israelis, below, Palestinians.

Pictured here are stones thrown by Israeli settlers at Palestinians.

What's most telling in Palestine: cemeteries. This one opened in 2021, it is already full. In just two years, the cemetery was filled, including with a lot of children.

The reality is Palestinians live in an open-air prison. They are surrounded by these walls, which lock them into territories reserved for them. More than 700 kilometers of walls. So no, Palestinians cannot "freely travel to Israel".

They cannot even go to Jerusalem, unless they have a permit, which is difficult to obtain. Because yes, if you go to Jerusalem as a Palestinian without authorization, you will be arrested at this kind of military checkpoint. God only knows what happens next.

These military checkpoints allow Israelis to control traffic in the Occupied Palestinian Territories and the border between Israel and Palestine: All it takes is for one soldier to decide to close the barrier for everyone to be blocked. Thus, any Israeli soldier is superior to any Palestinian authority. All it takes is for the soldier to lower the barrier to trap the president of the Palestinian Authority behind this barrier. There are over 650 checkpoints of this kind.

Another thing you should know: Israel operates under a system of collective punishment. An attack committed against Tel Aviv? All roads in Palestine will be blocked to punish the population.

Palestinians obviously don't have the right to use roads reserved for Israelis. How can the military tell them apart? Thanks to their license plate. Israelis have a yellow plate, Palestinians have a white plate. An example of the disastrous consequences of the ban on Palestinian circulation: At a school, a young girl required medical attention. The ambulance had to wait 5 hours, the time needed to obtain Israeli authorization to travel on their roads.

Because of these restrictions, a journey that would take 15 minutes to complete if you were Israeli takes an hour if you are Palestinian.

Colonies under construction. Guess who builds them? Palestinians. Of course, because it costs a lot less to employ Palestinians.

I infiltrated a colony. Settlers live very well there. Real estate is cheap since land is free (stolen by the state). It's very green, water is used for the grass and the plants there. In Palestinian territories, I didn't have water 4 days out of 7. Because yes, Israel monopolizes 83% of water resources and leaves only 17% to Palestinians, which of course is far from being enough.

On the left, Tel Be'er Sheba, ghetto for Palestinians. Less than 1km from Omer. One of the poorest villages. On the right, Omer, 3rd best village to live in in Israel, also one of the richest villages (reserved for Israelis obviously).

By the way, this is where the waste of Israeli settlers in the North ends up: in this river, which flows to the Palestinians in the South.

This is an example of Palestinian (in this case, Bedouin) habitat destroyed by settlers. These destructions number in the thousands. Palestinians are losing their homes, which are then replaced by Israeli settlements.

Israel implements a legal regime that makes settlers superior to Palestinians. So a Palestinian is considered an adult at 14 years old while an Israeli settler is considered an adult at 18. A 14-year-old Palestinian who commits a crime will face the punishment of an adult.

Here, near Al-Khalil (Hebron), 7-year-old Ryan Sliman died of a heart attack after being frightened by Israeli settlers who chased him.

Palestinians are losing their lives in this fight for freedom and dignity. This Palestinian marked his flag with his blood before giving it his life.

Bonus: if you're foreign and transiting through Israel, be aware that this country uses racial profiling to determine wether or not you're a threat to them. If you have a foreign-sounding first name, especially from Middle-Eastern and North African countries, or if you have a beard that makes you look too Muslim for them, you will undergo very thorough checks at the airport and a very long interrogation with sometimes personal questions, as well as a search of your electronic devices and of your luggage. I personally underwent an hour-long interrogation, with numerous questions, including:

Are you Muslim?

Why do you have a beard?

Where do you come from? What are your parents' first names?

Why do you have a visa from Tunisia and the United Arab Emirates?

...

Also note that the cost of living in Palestine is quite expensive, due in part to taxation. The products are doubly taxed: first by the settler state, Israel, but also by the Palestinian Authority.

You should also know that I have met Israelis who are formally anti-Zionist but who only have Israeli nationality and therefore cannot move to another country even though they wish to emigrate. I am not at all saying that this is the opinion of the majority of Israeli people, but I mean that not everyone is Zionist. Hence the importance of distinguishing them.

Last tweet added to the thread on October 18th:

Note: Currently, new large-scale clashes are occurring in the Gaza Strip, causing the deaths of many Palestinian civilians. This thread was written two months ago, well before these events. If the media today try to manipulate information, particularly in favor of an Israeli state that supposedly has “the right to defend itself”, what you see in the tweets above is the reality on the ground. Palestinians experience this all year round, from birth to death. The current context only reinforces all the horrors they are experiencing.

[yourmomxx]

꧁𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈꧂ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

warnings: none

word count: 2.4k

**

The first time Oliver Otto met Cooper Bradford was on a Monday. It was the time when the rich people in Westport made their gardeners rake up all the dead leaves in their yards, and pile them up to huge stacks, and when the school started announcing the annual Winter Ball to everyone that wasn't interested to go.

Oliver Otto first met Cooper Bradford on a Monday. But today was not that day.

Today was the Friday before, a sunny day, and Katie Otto was spending it in her children's principal's office, involuntarily.

Though, she had to admit, Princibal Ablin's monologue that had occupied about half an hour of her time already, with only occasional nods, and "Yes"s and "I agree"s thrown into it from her side, had been a perfect opportunity to think about her shopping list in peace.

Maybe, if she was already here, she could pick up the most important stuff on the way back home? Well, Greg had eaten all the peanut flips, and Taylor wanted some kale for a new recipe she wanted to try out. Alright, scratch the kale, there was no way Taylor was getting anywhere near kitchen gadgets soon.

"Mrs Otto? Are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" Perfect response, Katie. Really inobvious. She saved herself with a bright smile. "Of course I am, Principal Ablin. And I absolutely agree with you."

Ablin tilted his head. "So, you agree that you need to have a serious discussion with your kids about team spirit? We cannot have all of the Otto children plot against each other every day of school."

Oooh, that's what he had been talking about? "Ahahaha," Katie laughed dryly. Acting was definitely her strong suit.

"Absolutely I do. But I also have to tell you that my kids totally do not behave this way when they are at home."

They totally were.

"So, maybe," she gestured, "Maybe they are acting like that because the school provides a bad environment for them?"

Strong save.

Principal Ablin pursed his lips. "I can assure you that our teacher staff, and me, of course, are doing everything to be the best rolemodels for the kids there are, and to make them feel welcome and appreciated at all times."

Well, tell that to all the kids that dropped out because of bullying.

Katie gathered her purse and stood up.

"Well, thank you, Principal Ablin, for that very elaborate conversation that we just had. I will definitely talk to my kids, but I can assure you, they are just fine."

"Get off me, you gremlin!" "You get off me first, you toy-murderer!"

When Katie opened the door to step out of Principal Ablin's office, she was feeling incredibly tempted to throw it shut again. But that was like choosing between the door of hungry hyenas and the one where lava was slowly rising in the room. Both promised death, either way.

So she just sort of froze in the threshold between Principal Ablin's office and the school hallway, watching at least two of her children wrangling each other on the floor.

"Shouldn't you .. do something? They are your children, after all. And they are "just fine"." Principal Ablin, who had suddenly appeared next to her, set airquotes around the last two words.

She probably should. After all, he was right: that gremlin and toy-murderer throwing hands with each other over there were her seed.

Or, maybe, she should drag Principal Ablin back into his office and throw him out the window, after all.

Eh, that plan had been flawed from the first time she came up with it forty-three minutes ago.

She gave it one second. And then another. Katie sighed and stomped over to her fighting children.

"Hey! What is going on here?"

Forcefully, she grabbed the first of her children she could reach under their arms, and ended up dragging a kicking and screeching Anna-Kat away from her older brother.

"No! You, sit," Katie commanded, and planted her youngest firmly on her ass on the ground. Anna-Kat crossed her arms and pouted angrily. Katie turned to Oliver.

"What is going on?" She asked, throwing her hands in the air. "Ask her!" Oliver yelled, clutching a hand to his arm, "She just randomly attacked me!"

"You murdered my pony!"

"What are you even talking about!"

"Oliver, quiet!" Katie commanded. "Anna-Kat, what happened?"

Arms still crossed, Anna-Kat answered, "He slammed his locker door on one of my ponies' heads!"

"Oliver, is that true?"

Oliver's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me, how was I even supposed to know that it was there? It's not my fault she still needs those things because she has no friends! Then she went all crazy on me!"

"Aaaaaah!" With a yell, Anna-Kat burst forward and jumped at Oliver. The older boy screeched, and together they tumbled down to the floor and started wrestling for the upper hand. Or, you know, something like that.

"Alright, that's it!" Katie leaned down and, without a second thought, grabbed each of her children with one hand by the ear.

Now she was holding them up like trophies. Power move.

"Mom, what are you doing? You're embarrassing me!" Oliver whined.

Katie pouted in faked empathy. "Well, you should have thought about that before hitting on your sister. That came out wrong, scratch it."

"I think we are both very clear on the fact that Anna-Kat and Oliver are being suspended for this kind of behavior." Ablin stated.

"Oh, believe me, Principal Ablin, I would've taken those two home with me either way."

With an elaborate tug on their ears, Katie started walking down the hallways, her two children involuntarily following.

She didn't drag them by their ears all the way, though. She wasn't the best mother, but she wasn't downright abusive, either. Also, no one could have borne to hear these two complain the entire way to the school gate anyway.

"I don't even understand what is going on between the two of you lately." Just in front of the car, she came to a halt and faced her children. "I mean, I'm used to Oiver and Taylor going at it, or even Taylor and Anna-Kat, but you two? Come on, you're the smart ones in the family! You were supposed to take the other's side, not rip them to pieces!"

Katie sighed and shook her car keys out of her pocket.

While she rounded the minivan, Oliver made his way to his side of the backseat, and pulled on the door handle. When it didn't open, he frowned.

"Mom, you didn't unlock the back of the car."

"Hm?" Katie raised her eyebrows. "Oh, that's my bad. Did I forget to tell you? The two of you are walking home today."

"What?!" "Mama!"

Oliver threw his arms up and Anna-Kat stomped her foot on the ground in protest.

"That's not fair!"

"Oh, I think very well it is." Katie told him. "The two of you are going to spend some time together, where you don't have any other choice than to get along. At home, you can flee into your room, and at school you can escape into class, but not here."

She pulled the car door open.

"Oliver, you're going to watch Anna-Kat, so she doesn't get run over by a car. I trust you. Have fun!" Smiling, she sat in the driver's seat, and, with a loud growl that could've been either the engine of the car, or the sound of Oliver's spirit being crushed, drove away.

Sighing, he turned to his sister.

"She has officially gone insane," Anna-Kat said.

At least that was one thing they could both agree on.

**

Walking home with Anna-Kat proved to be just how Oliver had predicted it to: awkward, silent, and, most of all, full of angry glances at each other and the occasional, "accidental" shove.

It was a true fraternity from out of a book.

About one third in, Oliver took off his backpack and began to rummage around in it. Anna-Kat eyed him from the side as he pulled out an old camera.

"What is that?" She asked.

Oliver slung the strap around his neck. "A candlestick." He answered dryly.

Anna-Kat rolled her eyes. "Very funny, I know that it's a camera. I just wanted to know what you were doing with it."

"Well then, ask that." Oliver raised the viewfinder to his eyes after putting the cap back in his backpack.

"Just answer my question, dummy!"

"Hey, don't call me that!"

"Don't act like it!" She stuck out her tongue at him.

Oliver stuck his tongue out at her back.

"My research told me that Harvard doesn't only value integrity and business knowledge, but also creativity and perceptiveness." He raised the camera again to take a trial photo.

"And what better way to show them that I am all of those things than snapping some amazing photographs?"

Anna-Kat frowned. "But ... you're not perceptive, or very creative," she said. "I've seen your art projects. The weird kids in my grade can do better than that. You know, the ones that put toothpaste on their no-no parts."

Oliver gave her a tight-lipped, big smile. Anna-Kat's eyes widened.

That was it.

"Evil smile," she breathed out. Mama had always talked about it, but seeing it... "It reminds me of the bad guy in my movies when they turn around in a big chair, stroking a cat. Very evilly."

Oliver tilted his head. "Thanks. I've actually been kind of working towards that."

He snapped a photo when they passed a blooming dahlia. Anna-Kat looked around in awe.

"I didn't know our way home went through the rich part of Westport," she said. Oliver looked up from his camera display.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. That's probably the part where Mom would start talking about something that only interests you, but she thinks catches all of our attention, so we don't look out the windows too much."

Another picture of a crow on a street lantern.

"I never get distracted, though. I like watching this. Reminds me of what I want to achieve in my life."

Anna-Kat turned to look at her older brother. Oliver was slightly bending down to capture a nicer shot of a cream-colored house.

She took in the surrounding area of grand mansions with imposing structures, iron gates, and juicy green lawns. The beauty of it all did a favor of reminding her just how much she and her family contrasted from all that wealth.

Maybe they did not fit in as well as they had thought, after all.

The continuous click of the camera was the only sound that Oliver took notice of for the next few moments. He circled his lens around the landscape, continuously looking for another image to shoot.

His hands stopped dead in their movement, when he caught a figure on the top of a hill.

He noticed the property as a part of another residence, probably their perception of a front lawn.

As far as the camera could manage, he did his best to zoom in on the other person sitting on a bench in the grass. The young boy was hunched over, seeming lost in something in his lap. The sunlight was shining down at him and lighting up the image of his hair, a mix of strawberry red and blond.

Oliver breathed out to steady his hand. Then he pressed down on the shutter. The image of the boy, sitting on the bench, sunlight framing his silhouette like a golden aura, now forever captured in his hands.

Oliver grinned down at the display. Maybe he did have some sort of perception.

"Can we leave now?" Anna-Kat whined, and ripped him out of his hypnotizing contemplation. Oliver suppressed a groan.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming. Hold your horses." He hid his self-satisfied grin at the pun behind a duck of his head, as he put the camera back in his bag.

They fell into an evenly step as they continued their walk home.

**

"Mom, my lunch money! " "Mom, did you already wash my new shirt? I wanted to wear it to school today." "Mama, I can't find my second shoe!"

"Don't you just love afterweekend mornings?" Katie sighed at Greg, one hand perched at her hip, watching chaos unfold on the lower floor of her house. "Kids, let's go!"

Just like any other morning, but maybe a bit more hectic, the Otto family's minivan raced over the streets of Westport. Taylor giggled when a raging gardener cursed at Katie's driving that had stirred up his pile of dead leaves. Oliver took one last look at his chemistry test substance.

"Alright, we're here," His mother announced when they reached the sidewalk. "Now, get out, before you're late to class." Oliver was just about to slam the door, when Katie leaned out of the window and threw a closer look at a banner being stretched over the entrance gate. "Oh, a Winter Formal dance?" She turned to Oliver. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Only seniors are invited. Sorry, Mom. Bye, love you!" Oliver hurried up the steps into the school. Rushing to his locker, he almost bumped into Steve Treshor.

"Watch it," the senior scolded, and Oliver only rolled his eyes when the older man was way behind him. Blindly turning the numbercode into the lock, his eyes raced over his chemistry notes. Maybe he should've really studied more for that test. After he gathered his necessary textbooks for first period, Oliver threw the locker closed again, desperately fumbling for his notes buried somewhere under all of his books. He felt something slipping from his arm, but didn't pay it mind, kept walking anyways. That was, until he heard a voice shout from behind him.

"Hey, amigo! I think you dropped something."

Oliver froze.

When he slowly turned around, like a man being held at gunpoint, brown eyes wide, a boy was standing before him, probably around his age, but much taller, so that Oliver had to look up at him, with red-blond locks and a knitted crewneck sweater. But the expensive kind.

Oliver swallowed. He knew that boy. He had printed out a photograph of him just two days prior. He was the golden boy on the bench.

Oliver Otto met Cooper Bradford for the first time on a Monday. When gardeners started raking leaves, and Principal Ablin went around throwing flyers for the Winter Formal Dance like they were freshly baked bread rolls.

Olliver Otto met Cooper Bradford on a Monday. Today was that day.

Money is the anthem of success So before we go out, what's your address? [...] Money is the reason we exist Everybody knows it, it's a fact (kiss, kiss)

-National Anthem, Lana Del Rey

[karahalloway]

Sex Bomb

Fandom: TRR

Paining: Leo Rys x Adelaide Amaranth

Series: None (this is a one-shot and can be read independently of the rest of my fics)

Word count: 4,000

Warnings: swearing, alcoholic tendencies, smut, outrage, crack ship (you have been warned)

Theme song:

A/N1: This is my long-awaited (and very much demanded) follow-up to the part I wrote for One Night in Cordinia; however, you should be able to read the current fic as a standalone.

A/N2: Since I love killing two birds with one stone, this is also my submission for this year's Smutember event hosted by @choicesprompts. The prompts that this fits into is 'Caught in the act' and 'We shouldn't be doing this...'

A/N3: Certain parts of this fic were somewhat inspired by the scene between Finch and Stiffler's Mom from American Pie. The clip, for anyone who hasn't seen the movie, is below the cut.

Sex Bomb

"Bloody hell..."

Leo dropped the edge of the heavy brocade curtain he was holding, letting it fall back into place behind the dais to conceal his presence once again.

The ballroom was heaving. And the evening had barely even kicked off. Lord knew how many more people were still battling the traffic to get a coveted front-row seat for the royal event of the century.

The Coronation.

...or, as Leo liked to call it, the Royal Nail in the Coffin.

Because in his mind, that's what it was. The final, inescapable blow that would seal his fate for good, and maroon him forever on the desolate island that was kingship... shackled in life-long matrimony to Madeleine Amaranth.

Leo shuddered at the thought. Especially when he recalled his fiancée's naked form getting skewered loudly by that Justin What's-His-Face PR pansy on the steps of Beaumont House mere days ago.

Not because of the fact that she'd had sex with someone else. Hell, he'd tapped more ass than he could count! So, he couldn't exactly begrudge his soon-to-be wife's promiscuity. Especially when she couldn't remember any of it...

No, it was the fact that here he was, on the eve of his engagement to his future Queen, and all he could think about was her mother.

That sexy vixen of a woman, Adelaide. The Duchess That Had Got Away.

Very literally.

Because in the chaos of the Shagging Smog-infused assassination-attempt-gone-wrong — aka the Beaumont Bash — Leo had lost his one chance to notch that coveted mark on his bedpost... especially considering that she would've actually been game for it, given the mind-altering effects of the aerosol-based dispersant.

Talk about fucking irony...

Leo heaved a breath.

Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Maybe there was a reason why—

"Quite the crowd out there, huh, son?"

Leo clenched his eyes shut. "Yes, Father."

Constantine clapped a hand onto his eldest son's shoulder. "It's going to be quite the night!"

"Yes, Father," Leo intoned, forcing himself to swallow down the bile that suddenly threatened to bubble up his gullet.

The King's fingers tightened on his jacket. "All eyes will be on you, lad. Do not cock this up."

Leo felt himself gag. "'Scuse me...!"

Slapping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep the scotch-laden contents of his stomach under wraps, he lurched past his father.

Stumbling across the ante-room, he barely made it to the nearest ficus plant before the 20-year old single malt regurgitated itself into the perfectly hydrated potting mix in front of him.

"Christ, you are a royal disgrace..." muttered Constantine as he marched past him. "If God would've had any sense, he would've made Liam my heir instead of you. But here I am, stuck with your worthless hide instead..."

The slam of the mahogany door reverberated around the room.

"The feeling's mutual, old man," muttered Leo, shooting a wad of spittle into the planter to cleanse his mouth.

Lifting his head, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

A drink. He needed a drink.

Mostly because he'd just thrown up the five fingers worth of Dutch courage he'd consumed less than an hour ago, and there was no way he was subjecting himself to the shitshow on the other side of that curtain even remotely sober.

And if Constantine had an epileptic fit...? Well, he deserved it.

The old tosser had given Leo enough hell during his 30-odd years on Earth, trying to mould him into something that the wayward prince wasn't, and never would be.

Making his way to the other side of the room, Leo located the hidden door that led to the service corridors and slipped inside.

A few twists and well-worn turns through the rabbit warren, and he emerged out into the smoking room, a plushly decorated space filled with heavy brocade curtains, velvet armchairs, a billiards table, and — most importantly — a well-stocked liquor cabinet.

Making a straight line towards the blessed promise of inebriation, he grabbed the nearest decanter of scotch, and pulled the heavy crystal stopper out.

He was about to pour himself a healthy serving when he heard the rustle of heavy taffeta behind him.

Glancing around, he nearly dropped the priceless Swarovski crystal on the floor.

"Pinching a cheeky tipple?" asked Adelaide Amaranth, surveying him over the rim of her own glass.

"Shit, Maddy's mum...!" Leo quickly composed himself. "Erm... Thought I'd get a head start on the party."

"Mmm..." purred the Duchess of Krona, perching herself on the edge of the billiards table. "Man after my own heart..."

Leo swallowed loudly as the skirt of her dress slid apart to reveal the length of her toned legs.

After the unmitigated disaster that had been the Bash, she'd appeared to him again, luscious and alone — like a siren rising from the dark depths of his previous failure — tempting him with a second chance...

...or goading him with the unattainability of his crusade.

Either way, Leo felt his guts tighten at her unexpected presence.

"So..." Her voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you all set? To become King and all?" she asked, swirling the remnants of her drink around in the crystal tumbler.

"Furthest thing from," Leo admitted, sloshing himself a drink with shaky hands.

Whether it was nerves or anticipation, he wasn't sure. Either way, he was now doubly, triply in need of the hard stuff... in part because he could feel some other stuff becoming hard as well.

"Hence why you're looking for something to take the edge off," she mused, running her aqua-coloured gaze over him. "Smart thinking."

"Tell that to my father..." scoffed Leo, dropping the decanter back on the cabinet top, trying to maintain his cool in the face of her intoxicating closeness.

"Or my daughter," agreed Adelaide with a roll of her eyes. "If anyone needs a bevvy, it's her! Speaking of... have you see her? She's quite disappeared on me..."

"Nope. Can't say I have," admitted Leo, throwing the scotch back greedily.

Adelaide surveyed him for a long moment before shrugging. "Probably for the best, really. She can't stand me on the best of days. She's under some misguided impression that I'll say or do something that will embarrass her..."

"Welcome to my world," muttered Leo, reaching for the decanter again. "I am the living embodiment of my father's resentment. You know, he even told me tonight that I am — quote-unquote — a 'royal disgrace' and Liam should've been his heir instead."

"Hmm..." murmured Adelaide, sliding off the billiards table yo shimmy up to him. "I don't know about any of that... I think you'll look fantastic in a crown..."

Leo snorted. "That is hardly a qualification for kingship..."

"Isn't it?" pressed Adelaide, leaning her empty glass against her cheek as she cocked her head at him.

"I have it on rather good authority that there's a bit more to it than that..." murmured Leo ruefully, unable to stop his gaze from sliding down her neck to the bare skin of her cleavage that sat exposed between the lines of her dress.

"Don't listen to them," chided Adelaide, reaching up to run a finger through his thick, blonde hair. "A king needs only three things — a royal bloodline and an iconic profile. Everything else will be taken care of for you."

Leo felt an uncharacteristic shudder course through him as her fingertip brushed over the sensitive skin of his temple. "Apart from the actual ruling..."

"You'd be surprised..." she smiled. "I haven't set foot in Krona in months! The equerries take care of all the pesky details."

"Running a kingdom's a tad more involved than running a duchy..."

"Pfft!" she scoffed. "Duchy? Kingdom? What's the difference? You sign the odd piece of paper, and throw the occasional ball. That's it!"

"And lead Council meetings, host foreign dignitaries, review petitions, attend—"

"Leo, darling, you are terribly overthinking this!" chided Adelaide with a laugh, reaching for the decanter to pour herself another glass. "You think the kings and queens of old bored themselves with all the minutiae? No! They delegated, so they could have fun fighting battles and posing for portraits."

"Not sure fighting battles was exactly fun..."

"My Prince," she said, leaning in, as if imparting a secret. "All I'm saying is you have nothing to worry about. You could conquer nations with that jaw-line..."

Leo's heart stopped in it's tracks as he swore he felt the tip of her tongue flick over his skin.

"...your sense of duty is just a bonus."

"And... and the third thing?" he stammered.

"The Crown Jewels," she declared, pulling back to fix him with a knowing look.

Leo frowned. "You mean the Apple and th—"

"I mean these jewels," she corrected, grabbing the front of his trousers without warning.

Leo nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt her manicured nails close emphatically around his meat and two veg.

"Holy f—!"

"Mmm," purred Adelaide, tightening her hold on him. "Seems to be present and accounted for..."

Leo merely squeaked in response. He had no idea what was happening, or how he'd even gotten to having Adelaide's hands wrapped around his sex pistol in the first place, but he sure as bloody hell wasn't going to tell her to stop!

"...but one cannot be sure without a proper inspection."

Leo froze. "Inspection?"

Adelaide lifted her gaze to met his square on. "Darling, you are marrying my daughter. I cannot — in good conscience — let you bed her without ensuring that all the royal parts are in working order... and capable of producing grandchildren."

"Trust me..." wheezed Leo as he felt Adelaide's hands reach for his belt. "The lads have never let me down."

"Oh, yes," smiled Adelaide, undoing his buckle and letting the ornate belt drop the floor. "I am well aware of your many... conquests. But I also know the papers like to exaggerate. So, surely you cannot begrudge a mother for wanting to obtain independent confirmation."

"How 'bout a live demonstration?" blurted Leo, grasping at the edge of the drinks cabinet for support as Adelaide wrestled with the buttons of his trousers.

Hell, if this was happening, then he was gonna make damned sure that it was happening!

"Don't jump the gun, darling," Adelaide tutted, ripping the fronts of his pants open. "You need to pass muster first."

Leo gasped audibly as his sexcalibur sprang — finally, blessedly! — free of its confines.

"Not one for briefs, I see..." she observed, running her fingers critically over him.

"I threw them all out years ago," he panted in response to the feel of her silken touch on his heated gherkin.

"Another thing we have in common," she smirked, reaching for his hand to guide it over the back of her dress.

A desperate groan escaped him as his palm skated over the smooth, unencumbered expanse of her backside as she continued to fondle him. "So, what's the verdict?"

"A package worthy of a king," Adelaide assured him, rolling his plums together in her palm.

Leo felt his eyes tip back into his head at the overwhelming sensation...

...before it stopped just as quickly as it had started.

Creaking his eyes open, he saw Adelaide throw him a cheeky smirk over her shoulder as she glided sinuously towards the billiards table.

"Aren't you coming, darling?" she whispered back at him.

Leo nearly tripped over his own trousers in his haste to get to her. He was going to get the chance to live out his dirtiest, most depraved fantasy, after all! He was not wasting one more second!

"Lord, you have no idea how long I've waited for this..." he gasped, stumbling across the room towards her.

"Oh, I know very well," she assured him, leaning back to spread her arms out over the polished walnut. "I've seen you looking at me, Leo."

He faltered. "You have?"

"Of course, my darling," she assured him, cocking her leg seductively. "You were hardly subtle in your attentions. A woman notices these things..."

"You know this is highly improper..." he pointed out as he finally made it to her.

"Oh, sweet boy!" she laughed. "This would be the scandal of the century!"

"Then we better give them something to talk about," he grinned, grabbing her by her toned derrière to lift her onto the edge of the billiards table.

"Mmm... I can think of a few things..." she breathed, planting her hands on his shoulders to push him down towards her nether region.

"I'm sure you can, m'lady," he grinned, shifting his hands to the back of her knees to yank her towards him, the sudden momentum sending the top half of her body falling back onto the felt. "But allow me to put even your wildest dreams to shame."

"Bold words..." purred Adelaide with a coy smile as he lifted her legs up to anchor her Valentino Gavarani-clad feet on his shoulders, causing the skirt of her dress to cascade down towards her hips.

"I've yet to receive anything other than a stellar review," he winked at her, grabbing her waist to invert her almost fully as he lifted her sacred centre up to his face.

"That may be so, darling, but unlike some ladies, I have high standards..." murmured Adelaide, lifting her arms above her head in anticipation. "I don't dish out gold stars to just anybody..."

"I don't intend to disappoint," Leo assured her with a cocky smirk as he bent his head towards her.

"...why must I do everything myself!" seethed Madeleine, stomping down the otherwise empty corridor in her Valentino sling-backs.

She'd known Leo was an immature and unreliable cad who was more interested in finding the next skirt to lift than paying any semblance of attention to actual matters of state.

And while she would've definitely preferred a more dedicated and biddable prospect — such as his younger brother — to share the rigours of governance with, she ultimately wasn't marrying the Playboy Prince because she liked him.

In all honesty, the man could've had warts and halitosis and she still would've gone through with the union!

Because this was a political match, pure and simple. The House of Rys allying itself with the House of Amaranth, the richest and most influential noble family in Cordonia in order to keep Queen Kenna's line alive...

...with the added benefit of elevating Madeleine's own status to that of Queen. A role that she'd been training for since before she could even walk, given her father's unrelenting pursuit of power by any and all means — an endeavour that she very much shared, much to her mother's disgruntlement.

But she couldn't exactly get engaged if her intended was missing! Tonight, of all nights!

Who, in their right mind, disappears on their own coronation?!

Of course, she was well aware of Leo's infamous tendency to pull vanishing acts, but what the blasted hell was the man thinking? To leave an entire country in the lurch?

Certainly not on her watch!

She'd already dispatched Bastien and all available members of the King's Guard to search high and low for the errant prince. But the Palace and its grounds were massive, and given the sheer number of people that had descended on the Rys stronghold for tonight's event, trying to find anyone was an exercise akin to weeding a needle out of a haystack.

So, she'd been forced to join the search herself. Even though it was insulting beyond measure and much below her station.

But, desperate times called for desperate measures, and she'd rather sweat into her ballgown running up and down the corridors now, than stand like a hapless bimbo in front of all the dignitaries and news crews trying to explain why her future king and fiancé had skipped out on an entire nation on one of the most important nights of its recent history.

No. She most certainly did not need those headlines running in the morning... or ever.

Best that she focused her efforts on helping locate the wayward heir, and hope that he wasn't halfway out of the country already... because by God, she'd send the Cordonian Secret Service after him if she had to!

Arriving at the next set of doors on her mental task-list, she wasted no time in pushing the handle down...

"Leopold?" she called, stepping into the room.

...only to freeze in shock at the sight in front of her.

There he was — the next in line to the Cordinian throne — head thrown back, trousers around his ankles, thrusting like an animal into—

"MOTHER?!"

Adelaide raised her disheveled head from the billiards table at the sound of her daughter's distraught shriek. "Oh, sweet pea! There you are!"

Leo raised his hand in a wave. "Hi, Mads!"

Madeleine's rouged lips jerked soundlessly, trying to formulate some kind of response, but nothing was forthcoming.

Never — in all her life! — had she imagined that she'd ever witness such sordid... brazen... obscenity!

She was literally lost for words. Her! The person who has been giving televised interviews since the age of four!

"Darling," soothed Adelaide, propping herself up onto her elbows to reveal the tautness of her age-defying, silicone-enhanced breasts, "I know this looks frightfully ghastly, but I can assure that—"

"Shut up..." she finally managed to croak.

Adelaide frowned. "Darling, are you—?"

"I SAID, SHUT UP!" Madeleine screeched.

Both Leo and her mother's eyes widened in the face of the uncharacteristically deranged outburst... but they nevertheless managed to refrain from commenting.

"I don't know how this..." She gestured derisively in the couple's general direction. "...colossal cock-up happened. Nor do I care. But what I do know — and most certainly care about — is that the coronation ceremony is starting. And I will not let you, Leopold—"

Leo groaned at the sound of his full, Christian name. "Jesus, Mads! I told you I—"

"Do not interrupt me!" snapped Madeleine. Sucking in a breath to collect herself, she continued, "I will not let you fuck this up for me, or the kingdom. So, if you want to keep your royal bratwurst, then I suggest that you pull it out of my mother and get your fatuous arse to the ballroom before I have the Guard drag you there."

Leo glanced down at Adelaide. "You sure she wasn't adopted or—?"

"NOW!!!" thundered Madeleine.

"Okay, okay, sheesh!" huffed Leo, grabbing for his trousers, given that he was already very much deflated, his fiancée having managed to suck the literal joy out of his joystick with her mere appearance .

"And you, Mother..." hissed Madeleine, turning her attention to her disheveled parent. "You have undermined me for the last time."

Adelaide scoffed. "Darling, all I have ever done is—"

"Which is why my first act as Queen will be to banish you to Krona," finished Madeleine with a haughty air of finality.

Adelaide's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare!"

Her daughter's demeanour was icy. "You're lucky I'm not banishing you to Siberia. But if you test me—"

"Siberia at least has decent vodka..." chimed in Leo, sauntering past her out the room.

Adelaide tipped her head contemplatively. “He's got a point, you know…”

"Argh!!" screamed Madeleine, slamming the door behind her with such vehemence that it rattled the bottles in the liquor cabinet.

Vile cretins! The whole bloody lot of them!

Grabbing her intended by the arm, she hauled him all the way back to the ball, ignoring the profanity-filled protests.

Stopping in front of the pair of footmen that were manning the ballroom doors, she snapped, "Inform the King that Prince Leopold is ready for his coronation."

"Actu— Ow!!"

She brutally silenced the forthcoming objection with a heel to Leo’s foot.

As the servants rushed away to do her bidding, she manhandled Leo back into the same ante-chamber that he'd disappeared from earlier.

"Mads, stop!" he pleaded as she pulled him across the Persian carpet like a stubborn mule. "Can you please just—?"

"No," she declared, shoved him through the velvet curtains and onto the gilded dais without ceremony. "You will do your duty, even if it kills you, you ungrateful oaf!"

The hubbub of the crowd instantly ceased as Leo stumbled to a stop.

"There you are!" snap Constantine into his ear. "You have some nerve—"

"Just get on with it..." sighed Leo, the weight of finality crashing down on him as he caught his brother's the eye from across the room. Liam always hated it when his brother and father argued, and Leo didn't want to subject him to a public spectacle.

Constantine looked like he wanted to say more, but quickly decided against it. Turning to the congregation, he spread his arms and launched into his pre-prepared speech.

"Good evening, one and all! It is a great honour to have so many of you come out tonight to show your support not only for—"

"Pay attention!"

Glancing down, Leo caught Madeleine's disproving glower from the foot of the dais.

He suppressed a groan.

How they were going to sire royal babies, he had no idea...

...probably with copious amounts of drugs and alcohol...and possibly even a paper bag.

Because he already knew that there was no way that he wouldn't be able to not think about Adelaide while doing it with her daughter.

As even now, in the midst of his own coronation, his mind kept drifting back to the passionate coitus they'd shared on that billiards table before it had gotten oh, so rudely interrupted.

The way she'd moved... The sounds she'd made... That thing with her tongue... It sent shivers down his spine all over again.

And suddenly he had a stark realisation.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't go through with the coronation.

Not if it meant never being able to see her again.

"...and, now..." his father was saying, holding upon the ancient Rys signet ring, "with the bestowal of this ring, I—"

"I abdicate!"

A collective gasp of disbelief rose from the room.

Glancing up, Leo found his father and step-mother staring at him with open mouths, all semblance of propriety forgotten in the face of the shocking announcement.

But he was not perturbed. He'd made his decision. "I, Leopold Maximilian Fernando Constantine Rys, hereby officially and irrevocably renounce my royal titles as Crown Prince of Cordonia and Duke of Applewood." Turning to Constantine, he added with an apologetic shrug, "Sorry, Dad. Just wasn't feeling it."

The heavy gold band clattered to the floor as the cameras exploded into a frenzy of flashing.

"What the devil are you doing?!" demanded Madeleine, appearing in front of him as he hopped off the stage. "Get back up there and—"

"Better luck next time, Mads!" he shouted over the growing dim as he quickly skirted around the edge of the ballroom.

Reaching the closest set of French doors, he threw them open and — with the practiced ease of a man who'd done this exact manoeuvre a hundred times before — vaulted over the edge of the balcony.

Landing on the gravel, he caught sight of the lone pair of headlights idling in front of the Palace steps, and the figure that was in the process of getting behind the wheel.

A knowing smile spread over his face.

Loping across the drive, he managed to intercept the Aston Martin Vantage convertible before it had a chance to drive off.

The driver raised a brow at him as he approached. "Aren't you supposed to be getting crowned?"

"Realised I had somewhere more important to be," he admitted, coming to a stop by the side of the car. "Room for one more?"

Adelaide's lips curved into a smile. "Always, darling."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Leo, hopping into the passenger seat.

She cast him a sidelong glance. "You know this is never going to work out..."

"And?" he grinned, kicking his feet up onto the dash.

Throwing her head back with a laugh, Adelaide pressed the pedal down, kicking the tail of the Aston as they left the ball to dust.

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fangirling12566 @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890

[locution-youngster-enjoyer]

Ever since i read Lord of The Flies for school i've been thinking "What if the Wordgirl villains were stuck on an island?"

Of course, it wouldn't immediately turn into LoTF for two reasons: 1. Most of them are adults, 2. Most of them have read the book, and if not, they're given the rundown.

Also, there won't be much of a problem dealing with food, since they've got the Butcher.

Despite all of this, it would still be pretty hectic. Most of them are used to city life and would have a hard time adjusting to the various discomforts of living in the wilderness, so they somehow all collectively agree to vote Leslie as the 'leader' since she has the most experience.

That in itself causes drama because while Leslie is fine with helping and 'being in charge,' Big doesn't appreciate having his assistant be in charge and not him.

Back on the topic of most of them being city folks, they probably suck at foraging and identifying plants, and someone manages to touch or eat something they shouldn't have and are stuck suffering while everyone else has to figure out how to help them. For some reason, I feel like Granny May would wind up being the one to care for anyone sick or injured.

Then there is the deal with shelter. Some people try to find a cave or two, but logically there is no way that they can fit everyone into a cave unless it's a large cave. People start trying to build shelters out of sticks, but the process is slow because of the more chaotic and hyperactive people (Ex: Whammer, Eileen, Invisibill) keep screwing things up and causing the shelters to collapse.

So now there's the problem of the group starting to split up because of their pride, and since Leslie was unceremoniously decided to be leader, she's also stuck picking up the messes of everyone and trying to keep the whole group together.

Everyone's unhappy from the combination of being stuck together and the intense heat of the island. Basically everyone is half dressed with any extra layer just thrown into a pile or torn up to use as bandages.

Some people are thinking "The city has got to notice that the villains are missing by now? Surely Wordgirl is coming to save us?"

Others wonder "Do they even want us back?"

That's when Tobey remembers that he had brought a gadget that could save them all; a tiny robot that can grow into a huge one. It could be used to carry them all, or go out to find help. Thinking this is a chance to show off and gain the admiration of the group, he shows it off.

Instead of the expected reaction, the group of sweaty, sick, and aggravated villains all turn to this 10 year old, with only Leslie, the one person who is perhaps the most worn out of them all, manages to say what they're all thinking;

"Are you. Fucking. Kidding me."

[soubi122]

The Artist and Her Canvases - Pt 21

BontenxReader, no minors, violence, suggestive material/situations, smut, light fluff, blood, murder, mentions/use of illegal substances, mentions/use of illegal activity.

This specific chapter is angst, murder, surprise guests, heartbreaking for Y/N, bah - this one kind of hurt to write.

Open Fire

Becoming a Bonten executive had you spending 6 months full of training with Kokonoi and Kakucho prepping you non-stop, drilling information into your skull and also testing your organizational skills. Your role was really more of an assistant to Kokonoi in the financial department. Kokonoi wasn’t kidding when he said he would work you harder than they could fuck. You regretted questioning him when you first moved into your new home. Though bringing in a new member would usually call for a banquet or formal dinner, they decided not to take that step so early. Not until you complete the training with Kokonoi and Kakucho. They were in charge of bringing you up to speed with all their current affairs, the borders, the establishments, red zones [no man’s land for Bonten] and dumping grounds. Finally, you were able to catch a break and have some time for yourself. Though this was going to be a difficult task, it was time to say goodbye to the people who you cherished the most outside of Bonten. 

The morning started out as usual, only there was a sense of dread that creeped along the corners of your mind. You were meeting your friend for lunch to say your goodbyes as being an official member of Bonten meant that you had to cut ties with everyone else. It shouldn't have been that hard for you but the one friend you had, you didn't want to let go of. “Remember, you have until 3 o'clock, don't take too long and be careful.” Kokonoi said as he planted a kiss on your forehead when you were on your way out. “Yes daddy…” You said mockingly and giggled. Something stirred in him that made him almost keep you home. “How 'bout you call me that in bed?” Kokonoi's tone was coy and made shivers run up your spine. The whole daddy kink was just a joke that you used when they are being overbearing. But it always backfired on you, it always ended with you on your knees. 

On the cab ride to your friend's house, you texted her that you were on your way. Scrolling through your phone to check the menu of the little restaurant you were going to have lunch at, you noticed that your friend had yet to respond. She's probably getting ready. You think to yourself and continue with your mindless scrolling. It was going to be a bittersweet goodbye, it was like letting go of your sister, she was the only friend you made while living in Japan. Running into her again when she was pregnant brought you two a little closer, you got attached to the kids too - but saying goodbye was for the best. Being an admin in Bonten came with a hefty price, you had to cut the ties for not only your safety but theirs as well. The lunch was really a surprise farewell, you didn't want her to bring the kids or else you would start bawling your eyes out. 

When you arrived at her place, the dog was in the front yard and looked to have been out there for a while. He was wet from the rain this morning, you were going to have a few choice words with the kid after this. The little shih tzu ran up to you and planted his muddy paws in your knees, dirtying your jeans in the process. “Son of a-” You begin to say but stopped at seeing the door handle broken on the front door. Your internal alarm bells were going off, immediately dashing towards the door you pushed it open and looked around. “(F/N)?” You called out her name and were met with nothing but silence. The entire place was a mess, chairs were scattered, seat cushions were torn and de fluffed, various items were thrown on the floor. By the looks of it, someone was looking for something. 

The little shih tzu darted towards the kitchen, you assumed it was hungry. Slowly, you began to make your way through the first floor of the house - there were glass shards on the floor, various papers thrown around and then you spotted something that made your body freeze in place. A pool of blood was on the floor, followed by bloody footprints that led up the stairs - someone was hurt. No… The voice inside your head was saying over and over again. Without thinking, you darted up the stairs in search of your friend and her kids. “(F/N)! ANSWER ME!” Checking the kids room first for any signs of life, you noticed it was empty - only toys and clothes were scattered on the floor. Everything was turned inside out, almost as if a hurricane had passed through here. 

“FUCK! (F/N), WHERE ARE YOU? PLEASE SAY SOMETHING!” Desperation was clawing at every fiber on your body, your vision was starting to become distorted from the tears that were brimming on your lash line. Every room was in the same condition, ransacked and there was no sign of anyone. There were blood smears, drag marks and droplets everywhere and it was almost impossible to tell where they led. The pounding in your chest wouldn’t cease, you were struggling to breathe and were breaking little by little. All the training and all the things that Bonten has put you through were not enough to prepare you for this. The pitter patter of the shih tzu’s little feet caught your attention and made you turn around, it was pawing at a door and whimpering. It found something. 

The door led to a small utility closet, the moment the dog sat down and barked - you just knew. With trembling hands you reached for the door knob, slowly turning the knob and holding your breath. Praying to the deities that your friend wasn’t in there, but oh how the gods had other plans for you. Slumped against the wall was a female figure, she was covered in blood and looked to have multiple stab wounds in her abdomen. “(F/N)?” You whispered softly, there was no response - you reached to touch her hand and it was cold. There was no response and the dog whimpered, curling up next to her body as there was no sound, no movement and no life. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t wrap your head around the body that laid slumped against the wall. 

Without thinking you dialed the emergency line, “*** what’s your emergency?” The operator began, it was hard to speak. “Hello?” They said, the soft sounds of your sniffles kept them from hanging up. “Please…send EMS and police to [address]...my friend was murdered…” You said softly, trying to choke back the sobs. “Ma’am, are you at the address now? I am dispatching officers now.” The operator’s tone was now stern and laced with concern. "Ma'am?" You couldn't process her question. "I'm sorry, what was that?" She repeated the question and spoke slowly this time. Each word would fade in and out, your whole body was shaking, your teeth began to chatter, you were struggling to speak. “Y-Yes, I'm here." The operator continued to question you, slowly and gently as she suspected you were entering a state of shock. "I f-found her in a-a closet covered in b-blood, she’s not b-breathing and h-her body is cold.” You say between sniffles and breaths. Who the hell was this person? It felt like you weren't you, as if you were watching yourself in slow motion. 

Waiting for the police felt like you were waiting for the next equinox, the minutes passed and it felt like hours. The entire time you were drowning out the sounds and could only hear the sound of your heart pounding in your chest - it felt as if someone was beating a drum directly in your ears. You could have sworn you felt the floor vibrate with how hard it was sounded. Staring at her hands, you noticed she had defensive wounds - she fought back.

The sound of sirens was drawing near, your body couldn't move or react in time to bolt it out of there. It was as if your feet were weighed with lead and cemented to the ground. Louder and louder the sirens blared, soon followed by the sound of footsteps and the barking of the dog. A hand placed itself firmly on your shoulder, you didn't even flinch - all of a sudden your surroundings came into focus. Cops were questioning you non stop but you weren't able to utter a word as every time you opened your mouth, the bile was on verge of coming up. You were clearly in shock. One of the officers put you in the back of a squad car and took you to the station for questioning. 

They had you in an interrogation room by yourself, you could only stare at the table surface and wait until one of the detectives came back. Waiting in that room made you sick, the smell of blood lingered far too long in your nostrils that you thought you were going to hurl. It continued for a few more hours. Not once did it cross your mind to check in or call them to tell them what was going on nor tell them where you were. All you could see was your friend's lifeless body covered in blood. 

The loud sound of the door shutting made you jump and turn to face the detective who entered. “Miss (Y/N), I’m detective Tachibana. I was told you were at the scene and called 911.” You looked up at the detective and his features were softened, he had black hair and dark eyes. He was younger than you and reminded you of someone. You nodded in response to his question. “I will be asking a series of questions regarding this case, can you please walk me through what happened?” His tone was sincere, he didn’t sound aggressive nor accusatory towards you. You looked down and noticed that your hands were still covered in blood and your vision became blurred. Inhaling and looking up to meet his eyes, you began to explain what happened this morning and why you were there. “So you were planning to meet (F/N) at her house and go to lunch, correct?” You nodded and continued to explain what happened after you walked into the house. “You saw no one else there, correct?” You said yes and noted that the house was completely ransacked. “Oh god, her kids! She has two children and a husband - please tell me they are ok. Were you able to reach them?” You said, clutching your chest, holding back your sobs. “Yes, they are ok and were notified. They were visiting their grandparents at the time of the incident.” You thanked the gods that they were ok, but the intense sensation of guilt began to override your entire being. If I would have never asked her to have lunch with me today…this would have never happened. You began to hyperventilate as the thoughts continued to intrude your mind. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. Your inner voice was screaming at you. 

The detective was on high alert and tried to calm you down. It wasn’t anything new to see people react like this, but these were moments where small clues could be provided or accidentally said. “Miss (Y/N), I need you to breathe slowly - in and out. Look at me and focus on my voice.” He was going through breathing exercises with you, never in your life did you think you were going to shut down this bad. “If I hadn’t asked her to get lunch - she would have been alive right now…oh god.” You spoke and panted as your thoughts continued to swirl in a maelstrom of guilt. Detective Tachibana worded his response carefully, “The severity of this crime could have been due to outside factors Miss (Y/N).” It was a test to see if you knew more than you were letting on. “Detective, please don’t try to make me feel better by saying it’s not my fault. If I would have never asked her to hang out and get lunch - she…she would have been alive right now.” It hurt too much to even think straight. “Do you know of any reason or anyone who would want to hurt (F/N)?” Detective Tachibana asked as he prepared to take additional notes. “No, why would anyone want to hurt her? She’s never done anyone wrong and would never do anything that would put her children at risk.” You said almost raising your voice, it was like a slap in the face - how could anyone have anything against her?

The detective noticed your change in attitude. “I understand, I apologize if I offended you. We will let the police continue their investigation, thank you for your cooperation. Is there anyone we can call to come and pick you up?” You shook your head no, you didn’t want anyone from Bonten to come and set foot at the police station. You were warned once before…the last thing you needed was to get an ear full from them. “Very well then, please take a seat in the lobby, I will return shortly with a few documents.” He instructed you and led you to the waiting area. As you sat down, you began to run through the scenario in your head over and over again. A few cops were talking in the distance and you overheard them say something that made your blood run cold. “Yeah…that lady was targeted by a gang, it looks like they were after someone she knew…she had a family too…how fucked up is that?” You felt like the air in your lungs was snatched and you were struggling to breathe. Oh god, this is my fault? Did a rival gang find personal information on me? A hand that placed itself on your shoulder snatched you out of your thoughts. You jumped and turned to face a familiar sea of blue and green eyes. “(Y/N)?” It was Matsuno Chifuyu. He could see how your eyes were red and swollen, the blood stained shirt and hands, your broken appearance made his heart sink. “Chifuyu…?” You whispered as he leaned and asked if you were ok. He wasn’t alone, he was accompanied by another male with black scruffy hair and dark blue eyes. The detective returned and saw that you were speaking with Chifuyu. “Matsuno? Takemichi? What are you doing here?” Takemichi…Takemichi…-oh no. You snapped your head to look at the other male, this was…it couldn’t be. Hanagaki Takemichi was standing right in front of you, he was the friend that Mikey told you about. 

“Detective Tachibana? Oh I was called to pick up a dog as I was listed on the emergency registrations forms. It looks like the family isn’t here yet?” Chifuyu responded and the detective looked at the other male, waiting for a reply. “Oh, well I was with him when he got the call and tagged along.” The detective noticed that you were on friendly terms with Chifuyu. “Matsuno, you know miss (Y/N)?” He asked carefully, you said you didn’t have anyone to call to come and pick you up. “I bought the puppy from his pet shop…” You said without looking the detective in the eyes. “I see…Takemichi, please wait here while I take Matsuno to the back and sign the release forms.” He nodded and took a seat to your left. Chifuyu had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as you fiddled with your blood stained hands. Cupping your cheek, he spoke “Let us take you home, yeah?” He didn’t take no for an answer. 

You sat in silence with the other male. He looked a little awkward and was doing his best not to stare at the blood stains. “It’s uh pretty nice that Chifuyu’s pet shop has an emergency boarding service. They can board any pets that were involved in any police cases. It beats putting them in a pound if the owners aren’t here.” He tried to make conversation. You nodded and looked at him, he was so normal. No piercings, no wild colored locks and dressed…well, normal. “It is…I don’t know if they would have let me take the pup with me.” Within the next few minutes Chifuyu and detective Tachibana returned, Takemichi exhaled a sigh of relief - he too felt a little awkward. “(Y/N), I'll take you home after dropping off this little guy at the shop. Is that ok with you?” You nodded and got on your feet. “Miss (Y/N)? We'll be in touch.” With that, Chifuyu escorted you to his car with Takemichi trailing behind you.

Sitting in the back seat with the pup in your arms, you remained quiet and dazed. When you arrived at the pet shop, you asked Chifuyu if you could use the bathroom. While they were making arrangements, you walked into the small bathroom and slid down to the floor, curling up and hugging your knees. It was painful, you couldn't bear to hold it in any longer. You were trying to muffle your cries but it was no use - they could hear you. “(Y/N)? Are you ok?” Chifuyu asked as you began to open the door. You couldn't hide it, the tears were free falling and you caved when you met his worried eyes. Breaking down in tears you shook your head no. Detective Tachibana told Chifuyu some information regarding today's incident. He knew you were trying to be strong. He was also tasked with trying to do some further digging. You were met with a warm embrace, “I'm really sorry for your loss.” His sincerity made you sob even louder and you clutched his shirt like a child. Seeing you like this pulled their heart strings, they've been there before. “It's my fault…I shouldn't have gotten her dragged into this.” You say between broken sobs and sniffles. He held you close and was trying his best to comfort you. The tears wouldn't stop and you felt your heart breaking. “I'm sure this isn't your fault.” The other male spoke, trying to comfort you. 

Within moments your phone began to ring. You released Chifuyu and frowned at the name flashing on the screen. It was Kokonoi, you were running late and hadn't checked it with anyone. Without thinking you rejected the call and called Kakucho. “Hey baby, is everything ok? How was lunch?” They had no idea what took place nor where you were. “C-can you come get me? Please…” Kakucho immediately knew something was wrong. You never asked to be picked up anywhere and you sent him the address in a direct text rather than the Bonten group text. “I'm on my way.” His tone shifted and he began to make his way to the pet shop. You didn't want Mochizuki nor anyone else to see these two men without potentially killing them. Kakucho was the most level headed of them all and you trusted him with not starting a fight. You spoke a little regarding today’s events, trying to buy time for Kakucho to get here.

“I'm sorry Chifuyu, I can't let you take me home…” He almost refused but when you brought up the fight with Mochizuki, he understood and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. His actions took you by surprise, it even took Takemichi by surprise - it made him think that you two had a thing going on. “Can I at least check up on you to make sure you’re ok? Whatever happened today…please don’t go looking for trouble.” Chifuyu spoke in a warning manner. He knew who you were involved with and felt as if you were to give the order - people will die. With how Mochizuki displayed his adoration for you and how you spoke of Mikey - it was made clear to him that you were not to be messed with. “Miss (Y/N)? Are you by any chance-” Takemichi’s words were cut off when the bell on the front door dinged and in walked Kakucho. He looked ready to kill someone. You exhaled in relief when you noticed that he was by himself. “(Y/N)? What happened and are you ok?” His tone was icy. You immediately ran to embrace him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in while keeping his eyes locked with the two unfamiliar men. “Kakucho, I’m so sorry. I-” You began to sob but were cut off by Takemichi almost yelling. “Eh? Kaku-chan?!” Wait…what? How does he know Kakucho? The bewildered look on his face immediately made the scarred man recognize him. “Takemichi…?” Kakucho responded equally confused. When Chifuyu’s brain finally caught up he too yelled out in question Kakucho’s name. Everyones’ eyes were darting around in confusion. “Well I’ll be damned…Matsuno too?” Uh-oh. This was not good, you didn’t know that these 3 had a deeper connection. “Baby, you’ve got some explaining to do.” He said while smiling, it was a sincere smile that you have never seen before. Almost as if he was relieved that you were here with them and not with strangers.

“Baby? Hold on! Aren’t you married to Mikey?!”  Chifuyu blurted out and pointed at you, almost as if calling you a harlot. “MIKEY?! MARRIED? WIFE?!?!” Takemichi yelled out and he too pointed at you in a flabbergasted manner. There were so many questions that were being thrown at you and Kakucho that it was making you dizzy. “SHUT UP!” You scream annoyed at them for not giving you a moment to breathe. “First thing’s first - how?” Kakucho asked as he turned to look at you, but his heart sank the moment he realized that your clothes were stained in blood. “Oh shit…look at me. Are you hurt?” He began to cup your cheek and examine your face for any wounds or bruises. You shook your head no and were trying to keep it together. The moment of confusion and silly peace only lasted a few minutes before you were snatched back to reality. “She was at the police station.” Takemichi said innocently without thinking, it made Kakucho's worry grow and a knot formed in his stomach. “Can we talk about this when we get home?” You ask while burying your face into his chest. It was clear that this was a sensitive matter…Bonten sensitive. It didn't take long for Chifuyu to ask you to explain yourself regarding the elephant in the room. “Wait (Y/N), you said you were married to Mikey. You lied to me?” Without looking at him, you could only answer yes. “She's none of your concern Matsuno. I'm going to ask you not to press any further, please.” Kakucho was much more stern with his request. He sounded like Mochi but much more polite. “Stop, stop, stop…you know where Mikey is? Can I see him?” Takemichi asked with tears forming in his eyes. Kakucho chuckled and smiled, “Still a crybaby, huh?” This was the friend that Chifuyu was talking about when you first met, he's the friend who was looking for Mikey. “Please, can you tell me where I can find him? I just want to-” He began but you were quick to cut him off. “No. Like I told Chifuyu, please don't look for him.” Kakucho was surprised that you took the words right out his mouth. Being a kind person, he expected for you to give Takemichi hope. “Chifuyu, please take care of the pup until they pick him up. Call me if anything changes and I will take him in.” You said handing him a piece of paper with your cell phone number. “You know he's not gonna like this…” Kakucho said as he placed a kiss on your head, it made Chifuyu’s blood boil. Were you married or not? And why were you cheating on Mikey with someone else? “I’m sorry but I just can’t…are you really Mikey’s wife or girlfriend? How could you cheat on him?” He asked out loud, he raised his voice and you could see the sour look on his face. “Kakucho, can I tell them?” You asked while turning red, you weren’t one to shy away from this but somehow explaining it to these two men was making you self conscious. It was something frowned upon in a world where monogamy is almost absolute. Besides, they deserved to know the truth, you were already feeling down about lying to him before.

You could see pink dust Kakucho’s features when you asked for permission. “Manjiro and I aren’t married. He is my…well…they are my…um- partners? Wait, no.” You began to babble and question your wording as you tried to explain it. It was a little mortifying, you never really thought about it. They belong to you and you belong to them, right? “Oh, this is probably a better way of putting it, we’re in an open relationship. So Mikey, Kakucho, Kokonoi, San-” You were cut off by Kakucho covering your mouth with his hand. “Too much info babe.” Whoops…both Chifuyu and Takemichi’s faces were beet red. You could almost see the vapor coming off their skin. The awkward silence was so loud that you could only hear the sounds of them swallowing thickly.

“Takemichi…please stop looking into Mikey. He’s ok, I give you my word.” You said softly while reaching for his hand. “Deal?” He looked at you with tears in his eyes and shook your hand. His hands were so warm, it was soothing your soul. Something about him gave you hope or clarity. “I can’t promise you that but please can you ask him if he’s willing to meet with me? I just haven’t seen him in 12 years and well, he’s a really good friend of mine.” You knew you couldn’t ask Mikey, not with how he reacted when he heard about you and Chifuyu meeting. “I’ll see what I can do…” You could feel Kakucho squeeze your hip in a warning manner. It was time to go. “Chifuyu, I’m sorry we had to meet again under these circumstances. Please be careful and call me if you need anything for the pup.” You reach out to shake his hand as well, there was still some sourness in his expression but he couldn’t really say anything to you about it. Kakucho said his goodbyes and reminded them not to look into Mikey anymore for their own safety. As you both were exiting the shop, Takemichi ‘whispered’ in Chifuyu’s ear. “It’s like a reverse harem right?” You turned around and gave him a wink making both their faces beet red again. 

The car ride home was silent, it felt surreal - almost as if you were dreaming. Kakucho kept holding your hand throughout the entire ride, “Why were you at the station and whose blood is that?” He felt your hand begin to tremble. “Kakucho, (F/N) …she’s gone, she was murdered.” Within seconds he pulled over to the side of the highway and put his emergency blinkers on. “What do you mean? What happened?” You gave him the same information that you gave detective Tachibana. “Why didn’t you call us?” He was scolding you. Telling you that you should have called them instead of the cops, or call the cops and then leave the scene, or if you were at the station to so on and so on - he was not making anything better. You felt like a child getting scolded for something that was not your fault and out of your control. Kakucho was too busy telling you what ifs that he didn’t notice how your head drooped down as if you were bracing yourself. A disgusting feeling ran down his spine, he was reminded of your fragility and the abuse you went through. Not to mention that this must have been the first time losing someone close to you, you reacting this way must have been a reflex. “Baby…(Y/N)? I’m sorry.” His tone did a complete 180 and he pulled you in. "I know it hurts, I'm really sorry." You broke down again, the sobs were pulling his heart strings - it was rare to see you cry. He felt as if his world was tipping on its axis. To see you so vulnerable and small, it crushed him - he knew nothing he could say would make you feel better. 

Kakucho lets you cry out all your fear, frustration and pain. "It's my fault…I should have never…" You spoke between sniffles and sobs. Soon your phone begins to blow up with multiple messages and calls from the rest of Bonten. Sanzu's voice message had you flinching, he was worried sick and was almost yelling through his entire message. Mochizuki had also left you various voice mails and concerned texts. Even Mikey called you, he rarely ever calls or messages people. You knew you were in deep shit when you saw his name in the missed calls list. Your heart felt heavy and the knots formed in your stomach. The sound of a call being made made your head perk up. Kakucho was calling Kokonoi and asked to gather everyone at your place. "What the hell is going on? Where's (Y/N)?" Kokonoi asked and you could hear the sound of paper shuffling in the background. He was in the middle of something important and oh were you in big trouble for disobeying his instructions. Kakucho explained that you were with him so that he could tell everyone else too. The last thing he wanted was to have three devils on the loose with two over protective big brothers and the prince of darkness setting the world on fire to find you. 

After ending the call, he looked at you and placed a kiss on your lips. "I need you to stay strong, don't falter in front of them - if you need more time to cry it out…do it now." His words were sincere but painful, it's not easy to hold back when you're drowning in a sea of emotions. "One of the worst things you could do in this situation is give out an order that will unravel various threads of regret." He knew personally what it felt like to lose your best friend, to have them murdered in cold blood and to know that it was your fault. Izana's death still lingered in his consciousness. The hold it had on him felt like titanium shackles that seemed to never crack or break. Taking a deep breath, you tried to regain control of yourself and your emotions. "Kakucho…what do I tell Mikey about Takemichi?" Saying both names in the same sentence made knots in your stomach. "I know we swore loyalty but I think this is something you cannot mention to him…at least not by yourself. I will talk to Kokonoi first about this." Being reminded of what happened between you and Mikey made you nauseous - you promised him that you would be good. You promised to stay away from Chifuyu, but this wasn't out of rebellion or pettiness. You crossed paths due to an extremely unfortunate situation. "(Y/N), I know Mikey hurt you when you were picking out the puppy…I'm not letting him do that again." Kakucho's tone was heavy and there was vitriol on the tip of his tongue. "What do I say when they ask where I was? Chances are he will press further." You tried holding back the fear that was beginning to bleed through your words. With much back and forth, you and Kakucho went over the plan. 

When you were ready, Kakucho headed back to your place and was preparing you for the barrage of questions that you were sure to get. But there was one thing you weren't counting on that would surely come back and bite you in the ass.

Taglist: @shinichirosupremacy @bajifairyy @litle-crow @mikariko @buns-inhiding @nekoisme @erza-uzumaki @summerdasy @astrodiamond @nalyana @mjailene15 @minniettokki @lisedanie  @reiners-milkbiddies @rinrinfoxy @bakkatakoyaki @giraffeosaurusrex @stickysaladdonkeyhero @awkwardchick87 @shinouzen @hedaxhoseok @zamfir707 @berriesandcrem

[odditycircus-2002]

When You and Jimmy Crystal Married

You didn't notice the tension with your band much as you and Jimmy were busy with the media losing their minds over your and Jimmy's engagement. You and Jimmy were soon swarmed with paparazzi taking pictures, live interviews, and interviews for magazines. For a few months, you two were the hottest topic; whatever you were doing, somehow someone brought up your engagement.

If you're being honest, you were kinda getting sick of that sort of attention. Yet, Jimmy on the other hand was more or less thrilled by the attention, reasoning how great this whole thing is for both of your reputations, including your band's.

All of this is not to mention how busy you were with planning your wedding for the next few weeks. You hoped for something small and intimate, with close friends and family invited. Granted, he wanted to go big with it, inviting over all sorts of theater bigwigs and celebrities, business associates, and reporters. He wanted almost clinical perfection, from the seating arrangements down to the napkins. You didn't really get much of a word in the planning, and when you try to bring it up, Jimmy would assure you he just wanted to give you the whole shaboodle.

"I just want to make this big day perfect for you."

And you believed him.

Of course, he didn't stop you from choosing your bridesmaids/best man. Despite the unseen strain with some of them, that didn't stop your friends/family from being excited for you to be getting married. Or you have a bachelorette party including a bonfire, some (slightly) illegal fireworks, and nearly everyone getting blown up by said fireworks if it weren't for the fact you were near an ocean. Needless to say, you may have singed yourself slightly.

You couldn't have been more ready to explode as you clutched your bouquet of sunflowers and (Favorite Flower). Your attention is fixed on Jimmy, waiting at the altar so you may officially call each other husband and wife. Despite having your (happily crying) father walking you down the aisle, you had half a mind to break from his grip and sprint to the altar as your beating heart demands of you. On the other hand, you were glad to have your father holding on to you because, you could've sworn your knees vanished into thin air, leaving them like jelly. You're also pretty sure you may vomit from how many knots and butterflies manifest in your gut.

Luckily, you didn't, as you made it to the altar just fine. Although, you could barely remain still as the officiant went through the usual spiel. All the while Jimmy gives you a soft and loving look into your heart eyes. He's able to smoothly speak his vows to you, in contrast to you, who more or less stuttered out yours with plenty of passion. Jimmy shouldn't be surprised, but he's caught off guard when the officiant that he may kiss the bride only for you to literally sweep him off his feet to plant a big kiss on his lips. He isn't complaining though as he just kisses back in response, much to the delight of both your friends and families. You also could've sworn that one of your cousins shot off a confetti cannon from the sounds of a BOOM followed by raining confetti, which mixes in with the thrown rice.

You were able to invite your band/friends and some family members, including your parents. In fact, you and Jimmy first met each other's folks at your wedding! Jimmy's folks were more on the stoic side, his father being a tall wolf with all the warmth of a marble statue and his mother being that of a regal queen. You felt talking to them was like talking to the cool kids back in high school, only this was with in-laws.

Your folks were very much the opposite, as they were pleased as punch to finally meet your dear Jimmy. In fact, it was your father who straight-up bawled when he witnessed you and Jimmy tie the knot while your mother basically held him, also teary-eyed. They welcomed your husband with open arms into the family, given how he's one of them now. Well, until either death or he breaks your heart, your father jokes with a smile that seems just a bit too friendly. A smile that made your new husband choke back on a whimper, but you laugh off.

You didn't think much about your father's threat/joke during your honeymoon with Jimmy on his yacht while out at sea to enjoy the tropical islands. Such as enjoying dining with your husband while watching the breathtaking sunset, before cuddling up to him as you both stargazed and chatted for hours. Jimmy claiming as much as he loves sunsets and sunrises, they don't compare to rising and setting with you every night. You damn near tackled Jimmy off the boat when you embraces him.

During that trip, you and Jimmy would go snorkeling at the coral reefs and scuba dive to an underwater city occupied by more aquatic folks for sightseeing. You and Jimmy loved being able to watch an entire aquatic performance underwater including, glowing squids, octopi playing drums, and dolphins doing acrobatics.

enjoyed all the perks at a resort where you were determined to try EVERY activity offered there, much to your husband's chagrin as you dragged him to every single one. That's not to say he hated them all, as he did enjoy the couples dancing class, marimba, and spa. He never thought he'd enjoy a seaweed wrap so much! He always loves hearing you sing as well, so karaoke hours weren't so bad as well, given how pride would swell in his chest as he watches you perform up on stage, sometimes singing songs with him in mind, making him fall for you all over again.

"That's my wife up there!"

You once heard Jimmy shout after you finished a song, causing you to smile widely and give a sheepish laugh.

Not surprisingly, you also would drag him up to the front of the crowd to sing a duet with you as you gaze deeply into one another's eyes.

Although he won't admit it and will take it to his grave, he did work a bit even during your honeymoon, specifically whenever you two were separated or you were too occupied to notice. He justifies to himself it wasn't too much though! Just a few minor emails and phone calls here and there, and helping out with some last-minute details, that's all! Besides, what you don't know won't hurt you...

After your honeymoon, things were more or less the same with both you and your band, you would say. Granted, you and your band sometimes would squabble amongst yourselves over financial, marketing, or creative differences. You also couldn't help but notice how YOU were getting a lot more attention from the public over your bandmates. Sure, you were always more or less the face-man of your band, but the fact this attention was also pushing your friends to the sidelines is something else. But you could easily talk with your husband to help fix this situation.

Right?

Playlist while writing:

"La Vie en Rose" Cover by Emily Watts

"I'll Never Not Love You" by Michael Buble

"Everything at Once" By Lenka

"Trouble is a Friend" by Lenka

"Love the Way you Lie" By Eminem and Rihanna

[festeringfae]

Cabin baby died because he should've been Jeff's kid but the Wilderness wanted to replace Jeff and Shauna rightfully said fuck you. Callie lived because Shauna thought Jackie should have had a kid with Jeff and decided to say fuck yeah. Callie isn't literally Jackie but she has to constantly dodge becoming her, not because of any supernatural bullshit because the adults in her life are also constantly telling her-- implicitly or explicitly-- that her worth is tied to her success, and her success is tied to how much she can manage the success of others she cares about.

"Like mother like daughter" fuck that! When has Shauna ever told a convincing lie? When has Shauna thrown herself at someone she knows she shouldn't and probably isn't actually interested in because she found out the two people she cared about most did something unfathomable? When has Shauna had her safety and had a place to sleep downgrade from a guarantee because she thinks the people she has to live with might have attempted murder?

The difference is, Callie kept lying and prioritized the harmony of the household. The difference is, Jeff speaks up for Callie in ways he didn't with Jackie. Jeff tells Shauna to go, for Callie's sake.

The Yellowjackets can all buzz off. I'm rooting for CALLIE to get out of the woods the generation before her planted.

[theshamelesshussy]

Hey I often think how Crowley being rejected by heaven and consequently by God is very similar of neglected children, that kind of rejection a child suffers from their mother and leave them traumatized for life. And yet, Crowley is described as someone optimistic and he tries very hard to protect what is important to him. I love how he was rejected but still there are so much love in him.

Yes.

I'm seeing a lot of meta about Aziraphale and trauma/indoctrination from his time with heaven. I don't disagree but what I don't agree with is that it's "worse" for the angel because he's been an angel so much longer and Crowley has "gotten over" it only because he fell.

Our starmaker angel was thrown out of his family and his home into a pit of boiling sulfur in darkness. He doesn't seem to know why either because his memory was wiped or he was never told. And we know many millennia on he's still struggling with his feelings about that too. Yes, his experiences might have framed his current attitudes and morals but we don't know for sure. We saw Angel "Crowley" already questioning why create beauty only to destroy it in what to an angel was a short time. He wants input and discussion. Vs. Angel Aziraphale who was already a "follow the leader and don't think for yourself" personality. A foreshadowing of Eden where God plants a tree with red, shiny fruit in a garden but says to Adam and Eve, "Don't touch it." Crawley temps Eve to decide for herself, which gives humans free will and knowledge to decide right and wrong for themselves. Aziraphale, anticipating God will be furious, makes them leave Eden but gives them his weapon. Then he tries to lie directly to God about it. So I'd say both entities are still close to their heavenly personalities. Which is also why Aziraphale continuously doubting and putting Crowley down ("You're a DEMON. You're the bad guys.") disheartens me so much. Shouldn't our love ones see us and treasure us as we are?

[unproduciblesmackdown]

okay one more for now, the extent of what i'm working with speculatively atm anyways

i'm like rotating "okay so atlas was in on his own death, and brought mordecai and mitzi into it because they're his most trusted / loyal people; mordecai and mitzi maybe added their own layer to this understanding b/w themselves based directly on their Personal Feelings (for atlas) that led to being so trusted by / loyal to him; this is the same basis for what understanding there is between them now", i.e. they're still motivated by " as something that Might Fit, based mostly on everything overall than any particular clue

somehow there's the idea though that also something concerning atlas's death is mitzi's fault....continues to be difficult to guess at. a possible route i'm marinating on is just like, letting info slip that made atlas vulnerable....b/c naturally the idea above might suggest something like "atlas was in on his own death b/c he knew he was as good as dead anyways, and carrying out his own plans helped avoid [something]"

a noted "is that something?" element i haven't brought up till now is the associations re: the fray at the lodge that atlas made an enemy of in the course of making friends with marigold, described as "the city gang—some sicilians or something," things that make you look up what was going on in st. louis in '27 mafiawise....some tumult around that time, it turns out. might be unrelated, but it's like, we have the implication that atlas was killed by unfriendly competition; we have this specific instance of unfriendly competition that we now know of (that also concerns marigold); we have people also thinking that atlas's wife killed him though; we have asa warning mitzi of some things that have changed / the dangers in this climate, saying he warned atlas of Much The Same Thing (and mordecai's whole mystery investigation and questioning whether he knows some important things he thought he knew), but while marigold is acting agitated while Not acting like it's dealing with unfriendly competition....marigold could have switched up alliances, maybe b/c they wanted the (then) number one competition out of the way even if friendly with them, team up with people who now also are unhappy with atlas / lackadaisy and become the number one speakeasy yourself....marigold seeming to be interested in becoming more insulated atm, connected with a prohibition agent who's paying attention to these plants who keep being put on the hitlist....dunno. but mentioning it. whatever Much The Same Thing asa might've warned atlas about doesn't seem to have simply been Unfriendly Competition, or really friendly competition either

again, wondering if what's thrown mordecai is thinking that atlas had one reason for dying, but now having that called into question....confusion includes: in that case, would he still blame mitzi for something, as he still seems to? if he blamed mitzi too directly for atlas's death, would he be even This amicable towards her (although she may seem to think he's hostile to the point of wanting to destroy what she has left, though that doesn't seem to be the case)? the way he discusses the mystery of what atlas is talking about the first time around seemed to emphasize "something's bothering marigold and i don't know what" as though that might be what asa warned atlas about. the way he talks about it with gracie though (someone less in the know than mitzi, but also someone with little leverage in this situation) emphasizes "marigold might know something about how atlas died, but they shouldn't" rather than what that Thing To Warn Atlas Of might be....unless, of course, it's something like, say: mordecai and mitzi Did conspire to kill atlas / atlas wasn't in on it, asa could've warned atlas about disloyal employees who might kill you these days (not like marigold isn't going after informants rn And keeping everyone in the dark about things) and thus mordecai thinks that knowing to warn atlas about [him, mordecai] = knowing mordecai killed him....? but why say this to mitzi. and why would mordecai then talk about the mystery thorn in marigold's side. unless he thinks, elaborately, he might be the thorn....peekon (i am imagining this nickname is inspired by his apparent temperament. or calling him annoying :( but like, from a dramatic irony perspective....) ....but why marigold would take him on, keep him on, not just try to kill him, etc....

bullet point: whether mordecai's pressed about not knowing [if marigold or anyone else knows of his involvement in atlas's death] or [not accurately knowing why atlas actually had to die] or [just what's bothering marigold atm] which, all of these are mysterious to us, but

i get turned around as i write these things even as i also write them to excise [murder mystery marination]....sure also end up thinking through it while writing it out, and kind of keeping track of trains of thought for having written it, hence ending up with new / more honed ideas....while it's also like, have i hit every idea i had to even start up yet another post about, have i actually said all of this before, chaos. but then the gift is "of course i'll just make another post if i have to" as an approach, so. clapping and cheering, drinking to that

i did double check in like all the bonus material as well like, no clues here, right....effectively, right, but for interest:

general store [proper slaughter at the lodge]-preceding chess game, ft. relevant text of "of course, accepting favors from atlas meant consignment to a different sort of servitude, and, ultimately, the relinquishing of a quiet, conventional, working class family life for an assortment of problematical and precarious professional connections."

oh right and:

presumably redone as the similar in design/style shot of mordecai against a city backdrop. over the heart huh, nobody's even carving things into his chest yet, presuming i'm right about where it would've gone otherwise. all of these things: wild

and my collage from a collage of preview art that seems concurrent with the latest scenes in the comic w/this triumvirate, but didn't / haven't yet shown up:

seemingly the savoys in front (or...behind. inside.) of the doors of the abandoned brewery (drawn slightly differently in the comic, e.g. with more windows) plausibly in a cut section before mordecai and gracie are actually inside it. serafine w/the smoking gun which Could have been a removed/revamped bit from the earlier scene while picking gracie up, as it were....but then there's also mordecai seeming to flinch from something with blood spatter on the face, and jacket removed as he is currently....wondering if that's effectively Still a preview, i.e. it seems plausible the savoys manage to show up and shoot gracie. he'd be this loose end for mordecai in turn; not sure he has anything more to offer mordecai's narrative momentum besides drago; this would sure up some drama/stakes/conflicts....if mordecai and the savoys are Already put at odds as marigold employees / on the spot here, gotta figure out quick if you stay friends anyways....not like mordecai's been given the proper window to think it over / i do think it would be ideal if the savoys just get on board lmao, maybe b/c they wanna figure out what's up with marigold too / can't be bothered to tell on mordecai if he's doing that. rooting for this dream team

[purgetrooperfox]

“Please tell me what I can do. There has to be something I can do.”

Nocte and Kit, perhaps?

man oh man this one dealt me psychic damage ilysm

[ prompt list ]

pairing: Kit Fisto/Clone Medic Nocte

characters: Kit Fisto, Clone Medic Nocte

tags: OC/canon, established relationship, breakup talk, emotional hurt, hurt no comfort, angst etc, unbeta'd

ao3

"What's changed, huh? We've beaten this conversation to death and you can never tell me what's so fundamentally, irreparably damaged."

Kit twitches like he might step forward then catches himself. There’s something harsher in his tone than the half-dozen other times they’ve had conversations like this. He closes his eyes, takes a breath. When he opens them again, something has steeled behind them. “We said from the start that this couldn’t become anything more.”

It takes considerable restraint for Nocte to strangle a scoff. “More than what, exactly? An outlet? Blind release? There was no way to stay strangers, Kit. If you wanted strangers, you didn’t have to keep coming back.”

“I didn’t say that.” He folds his arms across his chest, an attempt at building a barrier, thin as it may be. “I said we couldn’t get emotionally attached. The Code–”

“Don’t,” Nocte cuts him off, fighting not to speak through his teeth, “do not recite the Code to me right now. I’m not talking about the Jedi or the GAR or codes or regulations, I want you to tell me what you want. This dance around what we want or need from each other is how we keep ending up here.” He gestures between them and hopes it’s enough to convey that ‘here’ means ‘this tired fucking argument’.

Part of him knows that he's not helping his case by pushing back. He's spent entirely too much energy shoving down feelings that stubbornly refuse to die, it would be disastrous to show his hand at this point. It's too late to say that this never would've lasted if he hadn't gotten emotionally invested. 

"I need honesty from you, and I don't think I've gotten it." 

"I've never lied to you."

Kit arches his brow. "Omission is still dishonesty, is it not?"

A knot of anxiety twists in Nocte's gut as he squeezes the countertop digging into his back, missing the protective barrier of his bucket. What he feels is naked. Raw. Like an exposed nerve. "If you know how I feel, then you know nothing's changed. Not really."

It can't work both ways. He can't know that he's in too deep to have any hope of climbing out now without also knowing that he's been falling from the start. There are unsettling implications on both ends. Namely that Kit might have known, even back at the beginning, and still kept coming back. 

"Nocte," Kit starts before pausing, like he's looking for the right words. "I can't give you what you want from me. You know that."

To protest the unfairness would be childish. It's still tempting. 

"When have I ever asked for more than this?" In all this time, as much as he wanted to… "What right–"

Kit cuts him off. "No, I need to– we have to stop. I can't keep pretending. I won't. I shouldn't have strung you along for this long and I'm sorry, but it has to end. For both our sakes."

'Strung you along' plants itself at the back of Nocte's mind like a physical weight. 

He always knew. 

None of his questions have been answered yet, but he still tries, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Itching, ratcheting insecurity abruptly, painfully makes Nocte's skin start crawling. Because nothing can ever be easier than pulling teeth. Because he knows better, he knew better than to fall for someone who would never feel the same way. Because yeah, Kit knew he was in over his head, but Nocte knew that Kit would only ever always hurt him in the end. He's known the consequences of his own weakness all along. 

Knowing doesn't lessen the pain of having it thrown in his face though. It doesn't do shit for the urge to either explode or implode. 

Somehow, it's immeasurably worse that Kit looks at him with fucking pity. "I thought your interest would fade," he admits. "I thought my interest would fade." 

Implosion wins out over explosion in Nocte's chest. Something deep inside him caves inward. "Your interest," he echoes numbly.

Kit doesn't catch himself this time when he staggers forward and brushes a curled finger under Nocte's chin, tilting his head up. Restrained apology glistens in the darkness of his gaze. "It was never supposed to get this far."

He can't look away, so Nocte closes his eyes and tries desperately to keep his voice steady. "Tell me what I can do." It's worse than dropping to his knees and groveling, somehow. "Please… There has to be something I can do." 

It's worse because despite his inability to speak above a whisper, it's a screamed admission of guilt. It's worse than 'I love you' because it's 'I need you'. The charge against him is attachment and he's pleading guilty. Begging, even. 

Too gentle on the sides of his neck, Kit's hands rest firm and warm. A yearning for something rough enough to qualify as violence washes through him. 

"There isn't." 

There's no apology or protest strong enough to communicate this storm of emotion. 

"Okay."

He doesn't open his eyes until Kit lets go of him and he can turn his face to the floor, blinking the blur from his vision. 

"I'm sorry."

There has to be a bar open somewhere. One that won't turn him away on principle and force him to face his brothers and pretend that anything is okay. 

"I have to go." 

You have to ask me to stay.

"Okay." 

His toothbrush will stay by the sink until it gets thrown out. His small accumulation of clothes and trinkets that made a home here will have to be donated or disposed of. He's fairly certain there's a blaster under the bed and spare plastoid plates in the dresser. It can all be chalked up to a loss and replaced, because he can't stay any longer. He can't look Kit in the eye or take the time to gather his meager belongings and keep his composure. 

So he goes with nothing, and Kit doesn't stop him, and he doesn't look back. 

The only thing that's clear is that there could be no answer to what changed between them. That fundamentally, irreparably damaged thing had always been there. Nothing changed because the entire time, that thing was him. 

writing tags and taglist form, dm to be removed <3

@willowworkswithwords @saradika @catboy-kenobi @dikut @voidika @mandoposting @certified-anakinfucker @milf-plokoon @secretlyatimelady @spaceydragons @tayylie @moonstrider9904 @thelove-ablepenguin @maulpunk @frietiemeloen @spacerocksarethebestrocks @zinzinina @quinnqueens @thefact0rygirl @misogirl828 @amyroswell @rain-on-kamino

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

You've done Aizawa headcanons, now we need some Present Mic headcanons. Pls??

That's true, these idiots cannot and should not be seperated-

Present Mic gets along with everyone. For the most part. Like, he'll go to Karaoke with Ectoplasm, and they rock out, but. Well. Ectoplasm says lady gaga like 'lady guh-gah' and he insists that's how you say her name. Aizawa agrees with him just because it pisses off Mic, and All Might ACTUALLY says it the same way Ecto does. Help Present Mic, he's DYING, he's gonna KILL HIM.

Present Mic has only felt genuine resentment for Best Jeanist. Because at every single party they go to, Best Jeanist tries to outdo his look and steal his spotlight. Literally in EVERY other interaction, they get along beautifully. But when they want to dress and impress, they act like the most PETTY bitches. Constant shade thrown between them.

Present Mic likes neck accessories. He has a nice collection of scarves, necklaces, Aizawa's hands-

Present Mic finds himself beautiful, and he is, but he DOES find himself jealous of the more beefy heroes. Sure, he can throw a punch, but he's more of a long distance fighter, so he doesn't have the same muscles or scars as his brooding buddy. But hey, at least he can LOOK at the beefy babes all day.

Present Mic has a fondness for loud foods. Crackers, fried foods (especially chicken), and pop rocks. Aizawa hates it when they're on missions together, and suddenly he has to listen to Present Mic's mouth full of popping candy. And yes, Mic annoys him with it on purpose.

Present Mic does more of the domestic stuff around the house. The laundry (Aizawa just throws his shit in the wash without separating anything, drives Mic crazy), cleaning rooms, watering plants, etc. Honestly, the workload seems unfair, but Aizawa cooks and does groceries, so they're pretty happy with it. Oh and Aizawa kills the spiders, Mic sure as hell isn't doing that.

Present Mic reads to Eri, and he calls her 'his littlest listener'. She loves it when HE reads, he does all kinds of voices.

Present Mic has an ASMR channel on the side. It focuses a LOT on whispers and hand rubbing, but he also does cooking, and yes, I'm calling it, he's done spicy shit plenty of times. This man is hot and I need people to pay attention to it-

Present Mic knows multiple languages! I don't know the extent of it exactly, but he, in canon, knows Japanese and English, so more doesn't seem far fetched. Also, his parents are deaf, so chances are he knows how to do ASL too.

He. Absolutely. Loves his kids. And he's VERY open about it! Alongside Midnight, he's the most approachable teacher to come to for things, and WILL cut his lunch time to help students.

Teachers shouldn't have favorites. But he kinda does. Koda, Shoji, Jiro, and Uruaka. Little Uru is CUTE, Jiro and him actually have similar tastes in music, he's trying to get Koda to come out of his lil shell, and he just. Likes that Shoji is quick to catch onto lessons, and is able to help his classmates.

[4dorks-1windmage-1shadow]

If you're still taking prompts perhaps 'bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go' with Green and Vio?

"That was completely unnecessary and you know it."

Green hisses in pain as Vio wipes an alcohol soaked cotton pad over the bruised, split skin of his knuckles. His hands hurt, but at least they're not broken. His jaw aches from getting clipped in the fight, and he's sure he'll have a nice bruise tomorrow. He's sure he's going to have a lot of nice bruises tomorrow.

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself." Vio continues. His tone is acerbic, but the gentle way he cleans out Green's scrapes is a sharp contrast to his voice. It makes his heart flutter a little, in the way it so often does around Vio lately.

"They had you in a corner, Vi." He huffs. "I couldn't stand back and do nothing. Why do you let them push you around?"

"I do not 'let them push me around,'" Vio sighs, finally pausing to look up at him. His eyes are icy pools of pale blue, pale lashes casting shadows on his cheeks and drawing his gaze down to the pink of his lips, and wow, Green should not be thinking about kissing him right now when he's still probably mad about what just happened.

Vio continues. "I just do not escalate the situation, and eventually they get bored and move on. Now, because you intervened in a completely bull-headed and violent way, they are likely to retaliate against me."

Green grits his teeth. "Report the jackasses then. Also, I gave them a verbal warning before I beat them up, thank you very much. I'm not Blue."

"Bullies do not care about words." Vio sighs, inspecting Green's hands and starting to bandage them. "I can handle them."

"You shouldn't have to." He sounds about as angry as he feels. Vio is smart and funny and thoughtful- it wasn't fair and Green would eat dirt before he stood back and let anyone hurt him.

He feels the bandages pull tight around his hands, flexing them in Vio's grip to test his movement range. There's a dull throb, but it isn't too bad.

Vio squeezes his fingers, taking a seat beside him. "Be that as it may, you cannot be a white knight for me all the time." There's a flush on his cheeks, and Green is suddenly all too aware of the fact that Vio still hasn't let go. "And besides. . .do you think I want anything bad to happen to you?"

Well. . .fuck.

"I guess not." Green mumbles, properly admonished. Vio has that infuriating smile on his face, the one that makes Green want to kiss him silly. It fills his stomach with butterflies and makes his hands sweaty and wow, Vio still hasn't let go, huh?

He's jolted from his thoughts by Vio leaning forward to kiss his cheek. It's planted right over a bruise, but the dull pain is peanuts compared to how hard his heart starts hammering in his chest. He opens his mouth to say something, but Vio has finally let go, walking away from him with a soft look thrown over his shoulder.

"See you later, Green." He says, and then he's out the door.

Green brings his bandaged hand to his cheek.

[crimsonxe]

@transbeffica

If wanting to know why I'm doing a separate post, look at Sir Adamus's reblog. This is my attempt to not fill their notes after they've said they don't want that.

Actually no, the show actually only says that EXTREMISM is wrong; while ones like Sienna in the violent wing while not given a free pass are given a more sympathetic lean as are the faunus equality activists overall. Its specifically Adam aka the TERRORIST vein that are given the rightful negative treatment. Also as a center-left, um no extremism is absolutely an issue on both sides for different reasons. Leftists shoot their own causes in the foot via their extreme views and unwillingness to bend to reality, demanding impossibilities and slamming their own for not drinking the koolaid cause they'd rather have a brain. For example: we aren't getting universal healthcare at the drop of a dime, but what can be done is voting blue whenever possible to put in place down the line the votes to lead to it being on the table. Instead far leftists will bitch and whine that no movement is being done and throw away votes or just not even do it in the first place, because the left "isn't doing anything". Ignoring that there is nothing they can do if the votes aren't there to do it. And that's just one example, there's also ones for various forms of bigotry too. Instead of trying to pull over ignorants via reaching out to shift them to be better, you'd rather yell in their faces in bringing up x,y, and z shit they said in the past or jump on the slip-ups they may have; which pushes them towards becoming hardline bigots. Cause its far easier to just dive into the muck that doesn't do that, than be attacked and hounded over everything as you try to change your ways.

And there is absolutely no damn ground at all when it comes to violence against innocent people. That is straight up terrorism and I don't give a single shit what supposed cause you stand for, it goes out the damn window. I will at that point root for your ass to be thrown in a cell alongside Mr. White Supremacist who planted a bomb in a building of innocent people for their cause.

Left extremism is infuriating; Right extremism is vile and disgusting; but all extremism is bad.

Actually Blake only goes against EXTREMIST violence as symbolized by Adam. Her issue always goes back to that. Not violent protest itself, which as a thing shouldn't even be seen a praiseworthy in the first place. It should be seen as a thing resorted to that one doesn't enjoy or see as good. v5 speech = about ADAM's EXTREMISM and those being swayed into it. It has nothing to do with humans, because they aren't the ones that are pushing Adam into being a terrorist; he was already that. Blake has also had multiple scenes including the v5 one where she states how the subject isn't an easy one and she doesn't have the answers; which is absolutely fucking valid. Even irl these issues have no solid damn answers or easy solutions and if your ass thinks different you're naive af.

You mean where Yang knocks the dude around the room and out the damn building as a result of it? That's badass and wish fulfillment territory for women irl put in that sort of situation that would love to do exactly that to ones like that. I don't have a clue what your ass would expect to be done different in that situation.

Port wasn't exactly treated as good in that case, instead having Yang shown being grossed out by it. He's also a very exaggerated arrogant type of character, so if anything its to do with his bloated ego.

There actually isn't any implications of that sort at all and you're trying to inject that into it where it isn't. You're wanting the show to do exactly what right-wing chuds/neckbeards accuse left-leaned media of doing in pushing an agenda into it that stands out like a sore thumb. Raven, Summer, Winter, Maria, the happy huntresses, Coco, Velvet, etc = no signs of misogyny aimed at them.

Um no its an accurate take, as everything to do with the WF can be put into the framing of "extremism is bad" which is a damn good message especially in the current time. Where there's currently a certain conflict where extremes go after anyone with a nuanced opinion that doesn't support one side or another.

"changing the system is also bad" in what goddamn way is this ever fucking shown at all? Oh right it ISN'T. What is shown is that EXTREMIST TERRORISM IS NOT THE SOLUTION. Faunus are repeatedly shown sympathetically, including the equality struggle side of things; the only times it isn't that way is specific to the EXTREMIST side that are putting bombs on fucking trains with innocent people onboard. Or trying to flood a city full of innocents with grimm in v2.

[isopodshenanigans]

Okay in my defense I was busy yesterday. And I forgot. I was at my aunt and uncle's house though, so we got some cute pictures!

Bonus TW today for spiders!

They were all very interested in my aunt and uncle's chickens, which, fair, chickens are very interesting. If it looks like that one has a wonky tail, it does, the chickens are being mean to each other. Most of them didn't really have good-looking tails. Aunt said they just moved the chickens in and they should stop doing that soon, so here's to hoping they do. Otodus was especially interested, since they've eaten chicken before.

They had an apple tree nearby, and most of the apples were bigger then any of the isopods. This one in particular was rather large, and Otodus was very impressed.

We discovered some gourds in the garden. They had never seen such strange plants before, so they were quite interested. Even if they got a little wet.

Otodus and Miggy are on top of the pumpkin they found. Miggy is here mostly to supervise so Otodus doesn't try to eat the pumpkin. Not even a little nibble is allowed.

Axo found a neat leaf to sit on, a leaf so huge it didn't even dip under their weight, and Kitsune settled for inspecting the bottom of the large pumpkin.

Squishy and Princess also found leaves! They look so cute sitting there so nice and pretty. These leaves were similarly huge, obviously and didn't even seem to notice they had small animals on them.

Full picture of them all for scale. See also Miggy's red being as fluorescent as usual.

They had great fun playing on the seesaw for a little bit, even if they didn't weigh nearly enough to use it and I had to move it for them. That's okay, they're cute enough I don't mind.

Silly kiddos, that's not the right way to go up a slide. You have to go *down* the slide, not up it. Let's go to the top, hm?

They're very impressed that I managed to get them so high up. It was interesting, since this playground has no ladder. To get up you either go up the slide, or you use a net and kinda climb up. It's weird. Fun, but weird.

Anxiously looking down the slide, not sure it's safe. It's perfectly safe. Clean? No. Safe? Yes. It's okay, they can get a little dirty. They're outside.

I think they enjoyed it! They certainly all came out in a random pattern, but y'know they seem happy. Particularly Axo, who has made no attempt to get to their feet.

(If you don't want to see a spider, stop here)

Over to the trampoline next, which was very strange for them. Weird material, moved weird, all sorts of things.

I did a couple bounces, and they, of course, went everywhere. As expected. Very cute though. They do like getting thrown around a little bit.

Ah! We have discovered a new friend! It's a bold jumping spider! Completely harmless to humans, but probably shouldn't be on a trampoline, since it might get hurt. I'd better try and herd it off.

Slightly better picture of the little guy!

(I did manage to get him off, although I ended up having to coax him up onto Miggy's cape and then quickly bring him to the side of the trampoline(Which is set into the ground) and let him off. At least he's safe now)

Whoops! Axo fell while I was getting off the trampoline, right between the springs and onto the ground underneath! Luckily, they're okay, so don't worry about that. Didn't get too dirty either.