#based metro man

[starlooove]

.

[guideaus]

Megamind's reveal to roxanne of not being Bernard, after titan reveals himself as hal is also so good bc it shows both of them lied to her. They both manufactured scenarios in order to get her to like her. Titan shows off his new powers, scaring her, and megamind simply covers up the garbage around town with his technology, it showing up again once the jig is up. They obviously do it for different reasons, hal thinking power is what will make him attractive, and megamind not believing he could be liked since he has been labeled a villain, but both examples of deception hurt roxanne.

[renard-dartigue]

Hi now i'm curious what is the beef with the rappers

Man this is going to be long so I'll try to keep this simple and entertaining. I hope this comes across as clear cause I'm shook right now.

Here is a glossarie to break thing up:

Prologue (The Spark 🔥)

Round 1.1 (Physical Education 💪🏾)

Interlude part 1 (Roots 🏠)

Round 1.2 (2 Warning Shots 🔫)

Interlude part 2 (Pusha the Seer 👁)

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out 🔪 )

Round 2.2 (The Nuke 💥)

Epilogue (All eyes on him 👀)

My Theory 🤷🏾‍♂️

Highly recommend checking out the tracks yourself while you read along.

Prologue (The Spark)

Let it be known that I am a neutral party and that I don't take sides when it comes to rap beef. I was here for the music and creativity. I am just trying to recount events to the best of my knowledge. Sorry if some details are inaccurate.

Okay so basically, Drake, J Cole, and Kendrick Lamar are the Big 3 of the rap world right now.

A month ago, Future and Metro Boomin (two rapper who supposedly don't fuck with Drake anymore) released a song with Kendrick Lamar called "Like That". In the song Kendrick took a shot at Drake and J Cole, saying there isn't a big 3, its only him on top.

4 weeks ago J Cole dropped a track called "7 Minute Drill" that is dissing Kendrick. However, in a move that is very uncharacteristic of J, he took down the official track and formally apologized to Kendrick. Thus signaling his exit from the rap battle.

ROUND 1.1 (Physical Ed)

Drake on the other hand dropped "Push Ups" 2 weeks ago, a diss track that went after other rappers he doesn't like but mainly Kendrick. In it, he made fun of Kendrick's height and his contracts. He then ends the song with "I was really try'n keep it PG" meaning he has a nuke on Kendrick that people don't know.

Not long later, Drake dropped ANOTHER diss track "Taylor Made Freestyle" with Ai voices of Snoop Dog and fucking 2PAC! Kendrick has stated before that 2pac is one of his idols so this must have been a deep cut. In the song Drake claims Kendrick doesn't write his own music and uses the writers of Taylor Swift. Relating a rapper to pop music is seen as disrespectful.

INTERLUDE PART 1 (Roots)

Before I continue, I want to give a brief run down on how the public perceives these two rappers.

Drake portrays himself as a superstar, he's always on social media flaunting his success and partying with other celebrities, seeing alot of women and living a lavish lifestyle. His music is catchy, something you put on in the club. Most of his fan base praise him for his sick beats and witty lyrics. He's been in the music industry for a while and is no push over.

Kendrick Lamar is a very private person, doesn't expose anything about his personal life unless its on a track. He almost never gets into fights with anyone. He is a family man, stressing the importance of being there for his wife and son and encourages other fathers to do the same. His fan base praise him for his creative lyrics and highlighting the black American condition.

ROUND 1.2 (2 Warning Shots)

2 Day ago, Kendrick Lamar came back with his first official diss track on Drake called "Euphoria". In this song, Kendrick goes in on Drakes fake personality. Drake has always been known around the community as a bit of a poser, he grew up in Canada and was raised by his white mother, a relatively comfortable childhood. He was a star on the popular show Degassi when he was young. garnering him a fan base early in his career. Kendrick doesn't approve of Drake appropriating black American culture and acting like he some tough guy. When in reality he is a Canadian nerd thats disrespectful to 2pac. All throughout the song, Kendrick hits at things that many people have know about Drake, such as his behavior around underage girls. He also called Drake a deadbeat father who isn't in his son's life, even referencing his lost battle to Pusha T. Then Kendrick finally warns him that he has more dirt that he is willing to share if Drake takes things further.

Similar to Drake, Kendrick dropped another track called "6:16 in LA" later that day. This song focuses on Drake's environment, specifically the people he hangs with. Kendrick implies that Drake paid people to dig into his background and when they didn't find anything, Drake made up stuff instead. Kendrick then says that someone in Drakes group is leaking information to him about something even more serious. Also planting a seed in Drake's mind that his supposed friends don't actually like him, just like the clout from hanging around him.

INTERLUDE PART 2 (Pusha the Seer)

Taking a quick break again, we need to discuss something that occurred long before Drake's battle with Kendrick.

5 years ago, Drake was in a rap battle with rapper Pusha T, someone who was smaller than Drake at the time in terms of popularity. Pusha dropped a song called "The Story of Adidon" where he dropped a bomb that Drake had a kid and wasn't taking care of him. Drake initially denied it but it was later revealed to be true.

Since then Drake has never responded to Pusha T's diss track, making Pusha the current winner. And Kendrick is bringing it back into the light.

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out)

Around 2 am EST time of May 4th, Drake drops his diss track, "Family Matters" one of his strongest songs, switching his flow 3 times in the span of 7 minutes. In true Drake fashion, its a club song with a catchy beat. Like his previous diss, its aimed at multiple people but the main focus is on Kendrick, even bring up "I was really try'n keep this PG".

Drake doubles down on his black identity and mocks the fact that Kendrick and other rappers are saying he isn't black, (incorrectly assuming that they are coming at him for being mixed when the real issue is that he is appropriating black American rap culture as a Canadian mixed man who grew up in a safe environment) Drake not only calls Kendrick a fraud who only raps about black issues for attention, Or that his activism is performative. He makes a shocking claims that Kendrick is a wife beater. Then Drake says that Kendrick's son doesn't belong to him and implies Kendrick's producer was the real father.

The track caused an uproar. But only for the span of 15 minutes. Because Kendrick did the unthinkable.

ROUND 2.2 (THE NUKE)

Almost as if expecting Drake's move, Kendrick Lamar did what no one saw coming. He dropped his diss track "Meet The Grahams" about 15 minutes after Drake released "Family Matters".

This time around, in a fashion almost unheard of from him, Kendrick strips all the usual metaphors from his lyricism and structures his track like he is speaking to Drake and his family, 4 parts per individual.

Kendrick begins by speaking to Drakes Son, Adonis, the same son Pusha T exposed Drake for neglecting 5 years ago. He's apologizing to him for his father's behavior. Kendrick speaks to him softly but sternly like a mentor, telling him not to be like his father. Kendrick tells Adonis all the things Drake did and warns him not to do them too: involved with escorts, plastic surgery to appear more black, surgery to look more muscular, hiding a kid. (Kendrick stresses that Adonis is black regardless of being mixed, further highlighting that he isn't discrediting Drake's blackness because he's mixed but because he isn't being himself.) Finishing of by telling the kid to be proud of who he is.

The second half is Kendrick addressing Drake's mother and father, Sandra and Denise. Kendrick speaks to her like he's revealing tragic news, explaining to her that her son is involved in disgusting things. He goes down a list of things, his tone growing more intense and angry. Kendrick then claimed that Drake is employing and enabling pedos in his group, and hopes they die. Even implying that his group is going to be raided by the feds some day.

The third half is the MOST shocking of all. Kendrick begins talking to an unnamed individual, simply calls her babygirl. Similar to Adonis, Kendrick takes on a somber tone and apologizes to her for Drakes behavior. He says its not her fault Drake abandoned her, says that she is deserving of love. He warns her not to become a target for people like Drake to pray on and says she has so much to offer the world.

Kendrick revealed Drake has ANOTHER kid and isn't in their life! (Allegedly)

To close of, the fourth half is Kendrick speaking directly to Drake, his tone tired. He tries to reiterate that he doesn't have hate for him. However, Kendrick says Drake was the first one to go after his family and he couldn't let it slide. He once again calls for Drake to take the mask off. Then says this isn't a rap battle anymore, tells Drake he is fighting himself.

Epilogue (All eyes on him)

And so here we are, waiting for what will happen next.

Drake posted an Instagram story denying the claim he has another kid. But given what happened with Pusha T, we can't quite take his word for it yet. We should wait a bit to see if anything comes out.

Kendrick hasn't put out a statement on Drake's claims about him but given the recurring theme of Drake being a manipulative lier, Kendrick clearly denies it. Given how private he is, its difficult to prove or disprove it. Much like Drake's claims, we will have to wait and see if any evidence comes out about it.

Drake and Kendrick stans are at eachothers throats right now, arguing over who one and whats real or fake.

Right now everyone is looking to see if Drake is going to continue the battle or stay silent like he did with Pusha.

My Theory

Personally as an outside observer who only followed the beef for good music. I think this goes beyond a simple rap battle.

Here is my theory: Someone from Drake's clique told Kendrick that Drake and his producers were writing something about him. Real or fake, Kendrick was pissed. And so he drafted 3 tracks, dumping everything he hates about Drake into them. And then, with the leaker's help, Kendrick baited Drake into a battle, goading Drake to drop the "Family Matters" track so he can shut the battle down with "Meet the Grahams". Or maybe his first 2 tracks were a warning to Drake that if he released a track with lies on him he would reveal he has another kid.

I do think Kendrick initially had good intentions in trying to help Drake be a better person. But maybe the more he learned about Drake the less sympathetic he felt.

But I don't know thats just how I see it.

Thanks for reading my essay. I hope it made sense heh. I encourage healthy discussions in the comments and reblogs please. But everyone agrees that Drake is inappropriate with young girls. We won't argue over that.

[dezertvideogames]

The Subnautica of other fears

Subnautica is a game infamous for it's almost all ocean planet, underwater worldbuilding, and deep sea gameplay. It's also the bane of all thalassaphobia peeps.

So here's the subnautica of other phobias

Claustrophobia Fear of Tight/Cramped Spaces - The Forest Series : After a plane crash leaves you stranded in a strange forests, something increasingly becomes... wrong. The caves around don't help.

Scopophobia Fear of being watched or the center of attention - Brighter Day : A weirdcore horror game where something is definitely watching you and definitely following you.

Entomophobia/Arachnophobia - Grounded : You play a group of kids who are stuck in a "honey I shrunk the kids" incident. They are forced to venture across their yard, and survive the various common insects around.

Megalophobia Fear of very very very big things - The Utility Room : An experience. More of an experience then a game and fever dreamish, worth it, and mysterious all the way. It's almost as if the universe accidentally left one strange dev room behind.

Nyctophobia Fear of darkness - Amnesia: The Bunker (from the Amnesia series) : It's a first-person survival horror. You play a French man trapped in a bunker during WW1, while being hunted by something inside its darkness.

Autophobia Fear of being/feeling alone - Firewatch : You work in a national park in order to watch out for fires. Traveling across the Wyoming wilderness takes a complicated turn.

Hemophobia Fear of blood or bleeding - Iron Lung : What awaits you in the deep of a strange moon. Trapped in a submarine you have no choice but to find out.

Amaxophobia Fear of car accidents or being run over - Decimate Drive : After freeing yourself from a kidnapping, the world you wake up to is full of hostile cars.

Final Boss Games:

Lethal Company

Fun with friends :D

Genre: Indie Comedy Horror

Takes place on alien planets in outerspace

It's multiplayer, and very fun, but as soon as it hits the fan the sound design works hard to immerse you in the sudden loneliness. The games sound design is one the major players of Lethal Company's fear. As soon as a friend walks away the proximity chat teaches you just how separated you now are.

Before you know it you have had something unfriendly following behind you, and finally finding the silhouette of a friend in the dark you are betrayed by the creatures of the Lethal Company universe.

Fear of Darkness

Fear of Loneliness

Fear of Being Watched

Fear of Outerspace

The Metro Series

Genre: Survival Horror Shooter

You play the beautiful and amazing Artyom Chynornyj in the post-apocalyptic world of Metro. Developed by Ukrainians and based off the Russian book series + Polish fanon writing community.

The world of Metro is unfair and unforgiving, full of mutated creatures, and the leftover souls that the destruction of humanity left in it's wake. Crawl across the underground of Russian cities, or panic across the even more dangerous world of the destroyed above.

Fear of Darkness

Fear of Wild Animals

Fear of Deep Water

Fear of Ghost/The Supernatural

Fear of Insects/Spider

Fear of Heights

Fear of Dead Bodies

Fear of the Cold

No Man's Sky

The scariest game I've ever played. I don't know why, but this game freaks me out. I know the picture I chose was harmless, but I did that on purpose.

This game is beautiful, but don't let that fool ya. This world will leave you no hesitation lost in the unpredictable randomly generated horrors of space. From planet that are all water, to colossus creatures you see for only a split second, to the infinite colorless expanse of space.

Megalphobes and astrophobes, this is your subnautica

Fear of Outerspace

Fear of Darkness

Fear of Cramped Spaces

Fear of the Unknown

Fear of Very Very Very Big Things

Fear of Deep Water

Fear of Loneliness

Fear of Caves

Fear of the Supernatural

[littlemissthunderstorms]

warp speed chic pt.1

“the shining city on the fritz”

a tranquility base hotel and casino alternate universe.

———

you were in awe.

warm, glimmering lights hung down from the ceiling, the soft glittering reflections painting the walls like a mirrorball. smooth jazz filled the reception area, muddled by various chitter chatter and conversations. the whole atmosphere was warm and welcoming, but you couldn’t help the shiver than ran down your spine when you caught a glance out of one of the big windows, vast space scattered with stars and nebulas stretching on and on above the spectacular intergalactic city lights.

you caught yourself staring, jaw agape.

“can i help you miss?” a man with a sleek suit holding a clipboard looked up at you through his thick rimmed glasses, waiting for an answer. “oh- um, yes! i’m actually supposed to meet um..” you glanced at your card, “alex turner?” the man raised his eyebrows. “mr. turner you say?”

you nodded, not really aware of his importance, or if he had any at all. you just knew you were supposed to meet with him first thing. the man glanced down at his clipboard, shaking his head and scurrying over to the phone at the desk, where he fumbled with the buttons, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose while he waited for someone to pick up.

you clacked your nails on the desk, looking around as you waited, still breath taken by the gorgeous architecture, the way design flowed so beautifully throughout the space. “good evening mr. turner! sorry to trouble you sir, i’ve got someone who’s apparently supposed to be meeting- oh! great, i’ll send her right up. thank you- you too sir.”

you smiled at the man, nervously biting your lip. another dude in a sleek suit came up to the desk, annoyed. “jeremy, i’m the phone guy. what are you doing?” the man with the thick glasses, presumably named jeremy, rolled his eyes. “mark, i don’t want to hear it. go take this young ladies luggage up to her room,” he snapped back, quickly clacking away on his keyboard. “room 505.” mark scoffed, mustering a fake smile for you as he took your luggage and scurried away.

“sorry about him. he’s got a knack for directing calls... anyway, mr. turner’s been expecting you, follow me.” you smile and nod awkwardly, following him as he treks down a long, red carpeted hallway.

———

turns out, it’s a little frightening riding the elevator up to the top floor. you’ve never been too afraid of heights, but this elevator is a round tube of pure glass, giving you a chill inducing view of all the buildings as the lift rises, just getting higher and higher, the tops of the neon buildings getting lower and lower.

it was frightening for sure, but interesting nonetheless. the booming metro city outside was a design of neon lights and intricate architecture. surely there were many lives and different storylines sprawling and networking throughout the city, as there was everywhere but it seemed so much more captivating on the moon. you wondered what it was like to live here.

once the elevator reached the peak of the building, dinging as the doors slid open, you happily slid out into the hallway. “go straight down the hall, through that big door. that’s his office.” you nodded, a little intimidated now. “thank you sir.” he smiled. “have a wonderful evening miss.”

and with that he was gone, the elevator dinging once more as it closed, followed by the low hum of the lift descending back down, leaving you on your own. the top floor was eerily quiet, the lights dim. you took a deep breath before walking towards the huge door at the end of the hall, noticing the shiny gold plaque in the middle that read alexander turner, founder of tranquility base hotel & casino.

great. you were set to be talking to the goddamn owner of this place. you seemed very mentally unprepared, all you knew is that you would be working on designing the new wing that was just built, along with a team of designers. of course you were qualified for the job, and it was an honor to design for a place this spectacular, you were just a bit intimidated.

you quickly fluffed up your hair and smoothed down your shirt before knocking, your stomach knotting up. a muffled shuffling sound followed by a few heavy footsteps were heard from behind the door before it swung open.

the man that greeted you on the other side was quite striking. you didn’t quite know who you were expecting, but he was much younger than you imagined, probably no more of an age gap of 3 years between you and him, you assumed. the man wore a crisp, perfectly tailored navy blue suit, the cream button up below equally sleek. his dark hair was slicked back, his vampire-esque hairline on display.

“hello, it’s lovely to have you, i’m alex,” he shook your hand and you smiled, trying not to show your nerves as you introduced yourself. “come, have a seat,” he moved your chair out from under the desk, sitting in his own across from you after you’d sat down.

his office was a bit of a contrast from the rest of the establishment. instead of sleek, polished furniture and vast space, the room inhabited more of a homey, lived in essence. you could tell he’d actually done work here. mahogany bookcases lined the whole wall behind his desk, sprawling with books and journals. various paintings scattered the walls, an occasional sticky note or reminder stuck to a golden frame. instead of overhead lighting, vintage lamps scattered the room, basking the space in a comforting warmth that soothed your nerves.

he ran a hand through his gelled hair, fidgeting with the fold of his sleeves. “we’re really excited to have you here. i’ve got to say, i’m a big fan of your work.” this comment surprised you. “thank you, it’s an honor, really.” you smiled, your cheeks starting to hurt. “i just wanted to see you so i could get you all set up. just before you arrived, i emailed you everything you need to know, so um- just be sure to go over that.”

you nodded attentively. “tomorrow you’ll have a meeting with the other designers in the conference hall, which shouldn’t be tricky to find, there’s a map of the place attached to the email as well,” the man rambled on a bit, telling you a bit about the place, sometimes starting sentences just to never finish them, getting lost in his own thoughts.

you liked the way he spoke, his accent, the dreamlike quality his tone held. “any questions?” he chimed after telling you about the library. you shook your head. you had a lot of questions for him, so many you couldn’t even pick, and plus, you didn’t want to worry him anymore, so you saved those questions for another time, storing them in your mind as if they were books on his shelves. alex sat up, smoothing a hand over his blazer.

“well then, i’ll walk you to your room,” he smiled. “oh, that’s alright it’s no worry,” you stood up. surely he was busy, you didn’t want to bother him. he tilted his head. “do you know where it is?” you were silent for a moment, thinking of the plethora of hallways this place had, your chance of finding the suite on your own was small. “no…” you shook your head, smiling awkwardly.

———

“here you are, room 505,” he smiled, holding out a keycard for you. the walk to the suite area had been silent for the most part. the hotel was starting to quiet down since it was getting late. every so often he’d look back and give you a gentle smile before turning back, his heeled boots clacking against the sleek wood flooring. he was so intriguing to you, unlike anyone you’d ever met. you wouldn’t be surprised if he melted into the shadows, seeping away into darkness, like some sort of creature. you couldn’t explain it.

“thank you, mr. turner,” you smiled, grabbing the keycard. “it’s no problem, and call me alex,” he added, stepping away slightly as he realized he might’ve been a bit too close for comfort. “it was nice to meet you, alex.” he grinned. “it’s been a pleasure, have a wonderful night.”

as his footsteps faded off into the darkness, you held your keycard up to the scanner, eyes widening when the door clicked and swung open.

the place was stunning. a large, circular bed sat in the middle of the room, adorned in plush maroon and silky red pillows, with a matching maroon comforter. a white sheer lace bed curtain was tied to each of the four wooden posts, making a gorgeous canopy. the room was tasteful, soft, consisting of intricately designed carpets, sleek 70’s style furniture, and a plasma tv that slid down from the ceiling with a click of a button.

you almost squealed at the sight of the bathroom. the rooms porcelain tiles were pink and cream, matching with the patchwork carpet that sat in front of the clawfoot tub, which was filled with expensive soaps. you opened another sliding door to find a nearly empty walk-in closet, a cherry red silk robe hung on one of the racks, a matching pair of slippers below.

once you were snug in bed, practically melting into the mattress, being engulfed by the soft pillows, your eyes began to feel heavy. you slowly turned your head over to the exterior wall, sleepily gazing out of the large window. most of the city lights were off now, leaving only the inky black void of stars to lull you to sleep.

———

stepping into the conference room, you felt a little underdressed in your button down and slacks. there were about six other designers, all clad in an array of vibrancy. shiny space-age metallic tops, dynamic head scarfs, eccentric glasses. they all looked like they were set to walk a runway show, clearly you missed the memo.

you were a teensy bit late, thanks to the warm, soft bed that didn’t fail to keep you asleep through your alarm. you gave an awkward smile when they all turned to look at you, the door slamming a little too loud. you flushed, quickly setting your laptop and purse down as you pushed yourself into the seat across from alex, who gave you a gentle smile.

settling in, you looked up at the designer who was giving a presentation on his ideas for the new stargazing room. you fought to not scrunch your nose. white curtains? white furniture? white walls with gold detailing? it was cute, maybe for a suburban mom but it didn’t match the energy of the hotel whatsoever.

once it was your turn to present ideas, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. some of the other designers had okay ideas, but some were also good, and although you loved your plan, these people seemed intimidating.

for the stargazing area, you’d envisioned a more cozy, dreamlike room. the furniture and carpeting would be warm toned, various soft lamps and fairy lights scattered across the room. while you were walking everyone through your presentation, your nerves seemed to ease. when you turned back around to sit down, everyone was quiet, unreadable. great.

after each presentation was done, it was time to discuss. everyones attention redirected to alex. being the owner, he got a big say in the final decision. your heart raced once you heard him murmur your name. “i liked yours. we’ll go with that,” he concluded. “meeting over, see you guys tomorrow.”

your jaw was agape. no discussion, no nothing, he chose yours immediately. the other designers didn’t take it well either, mumbling and grumbling a bit as they gathered their things and stumbled out of the conference room.

the following week, you were in the conference room once again. everyone was discussing plans for the day spa, and you found yourself falling quiet. someone had suggested sleek wood paneled walls, which alex had liked. others had suggested fluorescent lighting installments, to which alex said no. you sat there, observing until alex turned to you. “what about you? any ideas?”

your cheeks flushed a bit. “i was thinking dim, hanging lights, a bunch of different kinds, all warm toned, it makes it more calming.” he fiddled with his pen, nodding and scribbling something down. “i like that.”

a designer across the table from you rolled his eyes subtly. you shrunk in your seat, feeling gross. you didn’t want to be known as some sort of suck up. you couldn’t help the way alex singled you out, agreeing with all your ideas.

nevertheless, it didn’t stop. you’d suggest paintings for the wall, he would agree, you’d bring up an interesting wallpaper, he’d find somewhere to put it, you’d point out curtains that complemented the room well, he’d nod approvingly and scribble it down on his notepad.

eventually, you learned to be quieter, trying to let the other designers have the spot light but sure enough, alex would ask you to share again, his eyes narrowing at you as he dismissed the annoyance that stifled the room.

every single time, you’d receive a subtle scoff or an eye roll from one of the other petty designers. you understood, it was annoying that they’d worked hard to get here and the majority of their ideas were being turned down, but still, were their egos just so fucking big that they couldn’t be at least a little happy for you?

———

the next morning, you found a loup mask outside your door. it was adorned in black satin and lace, small gold detailing outlining the eyes. underneath was a small, metallic gold envelope with an invitation inside.

you have been invited to the tranquility base masquerade party,

tonight, 7pm, @ the information action ratio, live music and free drinks.

so now here you were, clad in a black, lace dress, which mysteriously had showed up at your door later that morning, along with a stunning pair of gold earrings and a dainty necklace that matched the detailing on your mask. the black satin hugged you perfectly, making you wonder how they managed to nail your size and proportions.

chandeliers with bulbs of stars hung down in clusters, emitting a gentle glow. people danced and chatted, jazz flowing through the room from the band on the stage, the martini police. tons of different people wandered around, all masked and dressed in a variety of colors and textures.

letting your eyes linger, you spotted the group of designers all chatting at a booth. instead, you headed towards the bar, figuring they already hated you enough, why annoy them now. the bar was beautiful, lights lit up the whole structure, and as you ordered your martini, you couldn’t help but notice how good looking some of the bartenders were.

as you sipped your drink, you felt someone’s presence directly behind you, a little too close for comfort. you turned, trying to distinguish who was under the sparkly white cat mask. “so, are you fucking him or something?”

your eyebrows raised “huh?” the girl scoffed, and immediately you recognized her as one of the other designers. she had a model figure, super tall with platinum blonde hair, and a menacing scoff. she’d be a really good bully. “are you fucking alex? is that how you get him to pick all your ideas?”

you shook your head, cheeks flushed. “no. i have no idea why he favors me,” you stated, turning back to your drink when you felt a cold liquid down your back, making you gasp. you turned again, the blonde pretending to be shocked as she held her empty glass. “i’m so sorry! i’m so clumsy.”

you rolled your eyes, getting up and deciding you’d had enough. you just wanted to go back to your suite, shower and lay in bed. since you’d arrived, the crowd almost doubled in size. you fought your way through, bumping into a few shoulders as you tried not to step on dresses. a lady in a swan mask turned and bumped you, her feathery dress catching on your shoes. you lost balance, stumbling over your heels, about to fall onto another group of people when you felt strong hands on your waist, and in a whirlwind you were upright.

it was alex. he pulled you close to him and swept you away onto the dancefloor, his hand on your waist, a hand interlocked with yours. you almost didn’t recognize him at first. he wore a black masquerade mask, with dark shimmery sequins adorning the sides. his hair was fluffier, much unlike his usual slicked back look.

you looked up at him, noticing how your hand gripped his shoulder. he’d swept you away so swiftly, leaving you speechless. his dark eyes shimmered under the mask as he peered down at you, waiting for you to speak first. “i- i was just leaving,” you stuttered, hyperfixating on the way the spill made the wet satin stick to your skin. he made no remark, keeping his languid gaze, his mouth twisted into a subtle grin.

“there’s vodka all over my dress,” you added. alex shuffled, taking off his blazer and wrapping it around your shoulders. it didn’t help much, but you didn’t say anything. it was a nice gesture.

the mystery lingered in the back of your mind, you wanted to question him about his decisions to constantly favor you but his position of authority made you bite your tongue.

his position of authority. you noticed how many people were staring all of a sudden. you could sense it in his sharp suit, the expensive, musky cologne he wore. it was entrancing, he was quite entrancing himself, you couldn’t ignore it but you couldn’t do this. you didn’t want the taboo boss employee type of perception cast upon you and him. you wanted to be taken seriously. the other designers were already perceiving you as some sort of teachers pet. the thought instilled momentary nausea.

“alex, i’ve got to go,” you whispered. he looked down at you again. “i’ll walk you back.” you shook your head. “no, no thank you, i’ll manage.” you slipped out of his arms before handing him his blazer, maneuvering your way through the tight packed crowd, slipping around torsos and arms until you finally made it out into the secluded hallway.

you took a deep breath, the chatter, music, and clinking of glasses now muddled. the hall was dark, not counting the floor to ceiling window that casted a murky blue into the space. you pressed your hand up against the window. staring out, you still didn’t comprehend it all was real, convincing yourself that it was a dream, and dreams were merely fragments of space cut out and glued together, playing like a glitched out film reel in your sleep.

you snapped back to reality, the smell of vodka on your dress pungent. quickly, you headed back to your suite, heels clacking on the marble, loud in the silence.

———

hii! let me know what you think so far. sorry if this part is a little uneventful, i mostly wanted to set up the environment but trust, better things are coming.

taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed)- @ultragirrl @inmyownfantasywrld @almluv @raven-ql @ohladymoon @yourstartreatment @missbabyjay @andulina567 @blair-s-world @rentsturner @indierockgirrl @kittyrob0t @averyzversi0n @michelleisheres-blog @kennedy-brooke @madeinuk @mathdebate00 @sstar-ggirl @tangointhequango @nela-cutie

[fluentmoviequoter]

Accidental CI

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reader

Summary: When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.

Warnings: r works an unspecified corporate job, mentions weapon trafficking and guns, threats, mostly fluff!

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hi, Deac,” you greet as you open the door.

“How was work?” he asks.

“It was fine. My boss forgot to start a software update last night so we didn’t have computer access until after lunch.”

“So, you got paid to sit there and do nothing?”

“Which isn’t that much different than most days,” you tease. “What about you? Any crazy calls?”

You lead Deacon into your kitchen, and his smile widens when he sees dinner waiting on your counter. He pulls you into a quick hug before telling you about his day at work.

“No injuries?” you ask softly.

“No injuries,” he assures. “What about you; any paper cuts that need tending to?”

“Just mental injuries for me. Our financial statements aren’t aligning like they should and if it’s not fixed by the next audit, someone’s getting in trouble.”

“What do you think caused it?”

“Oversight or adding the same bill twice, I’d guess. But I think we should talk about something more exciting than my future IRS investigation.”

“Then let’s talk about that amazing dinner over there and I’ll remind you that Luca wants to have a cooking competition with you.”

Deacon has been your best friend since he moved in next door. You also harbor an ever-growing crush on him. When you saw him climb out of the moving truck the first day, you knew you wanted to be close. He’s got a stressful job, so if you can give him a break and a friend, that’s what you’ll do.

Deacon watches the screen in the situation room as Hondo explains the corporate espionage turned weapon trafficking case. It's a strange move, going from stealing trade secrets to transporting illegal weapons across borders and into areas with strict gun control laws. Metro found a lot of evidence, but when they located the weapons supply in their prime suspect’s corporate office, they called in 20 Squad.

“Wait, go back. Who’s the suspect?” Deacon asks.

His eyes search the monitor as Hondo returns to a page of surveillance photos.

“Elwin Dupree. You know him?” Hondo responds.

“Not personally, but I know someone who works for him.”

“CI?” Chris guesses.

“No. She might be willing to help, though.”

“Call her,” Hondo says.

Hicks adds, “Otherwise, we’re going in blind. Metro has intel but it’s not enough to avoid an ambush.”

Deacon nods and walks out of the room. He presses a contact from his favorites list before raising his phone to his ear.

“Remind me why we work here?” your desk neighbor, whom you lovingly call Nola, says as she sits across from you.

“Because the pay is good… and we’re desperate,” you offer, smiling as you accept your favorite drink.

“May I remind you that Dupree is an idiot who can’t even remember what he asks us to do?”

“Just smile and go with it, Nola, it’s the easiest way to handle it.”

“The man called me into his office yesterday, and then didn’t know why I was there,” she whispers.

“That’s probably a good thing for you. Considering your nickname is based off of your reply of no; lazy.”

“I am lazy! So, I don’t like to do things. He can fire me whenever he wants.”

You roll your eyes and prepare to reply but are interrupted by your cell phone ringing. You apologize to Nola before you answer it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Deacon says on the other end of the line.

“Indeed, it is. What’s going on?” you reply.

“How do you know something is going on?”

“It’s mid-morning on a weekday. And you never call me.”

“I call you all the time!” Deacon argues.

You laugh before you say, “Not when you’re at work.”

“Okay, fine, you’re right. Listen, we’re working on something, and your boss’s name came up.”

“Dupree?” you inquire. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what we’re looking into, but Hondo and Hicks wanted to know if you’d be willing to help us.”

“Of course. Tell me what to do,” you agree.

“Can you come down here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. You open the calendar on your computer and add, “I can spare an hour and a half, is that enough time?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” Deacon says.

“Anything for you.”

You hang up and gather your things before standing.

“Where are you off to? Please tell me you’re leaving to go on a date with the hot neighbor you always talk about,” Nola whispers.

“Not today. There was a slight mishap for some of our paperwork. I have to run to another office and get everything sorted out,” you lie. “I’ll have my cell if you need anything.”

“Dodging bullets left and right, aren’t you? Go ahead, I’ll watch your phone and fill in Dupree if he notices you’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nola.”

When you park outside the station, your thoughts begin spiraling. You sit in your seat and wonder if you made the right decision. Will you be in Deacon’s way or be too distracted by him to even help? What if something happens to him while you’re with him? What if he-

A tap on your window draws you from your questions. You turn your head and see Deacon looking at you through the glass. You send him a small smile as he opens your door and bends to look at you. His head tilts to this side, and when he lowers to a squat, his brown eyes distract you as he looks up at you.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently.

“No, I want to. Just- I was thinking too much, I guess,” you reply.

Deacon nods and stands before offering his hand to help you out of your seat. He closes the door and ensures it’s locked before moving his hand to your back to lead you inside.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hondo,” Hondo says as you enter.

You shake Hondo’s hand and introduce yourself as you follow him further into the station. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins explaining as much as he can about how your boss is involved in the case they’re working.

“We’d like to send you in the get additional details on the office and any other information you can find,” Hondo says. “We’ve got basic floor plans, but we need insider info.”

“She can’t go in alone,” Deacon argues. “We don’t know what he has in that office. If she starts asking questions and he gets suspicious-“

You cut Deacon off by laying a hand on his shoulder and asking, “What if you go in with me? It wouldn’t be that hard for me to lie about who you are; Dupree doesn’t know most of the people who work in the building. Plus, you know what to look for better than I do.”

Hondo looks at Deacon and waits for his reply. You feel Deacon sigh against your hand before agreeing to go into the office with you.

“There’s an employee entrance without metal detectors, but you have to swipe a keycard,” you explain. “They’ll know if you piggyback with me.”

“Our techs can make him a keycard,” Hondo assures. “If you have yours, they can copy parts of it.”

You nod and pass your card to Hondo. He turns and gives it to a passing officer with a few short instructions. Deacon pats your arm as he leaves to change; his uniform isn’t business casual, but he said he'd find something more fitting.

“20 Squad is going to be close by,” Hondo begins. “Deacon can say a word and we’ll be inside, but if you need help and get separated from Deacon, try to get to a window. Signaling for help is easiest with this; just keep it in your pocket or your hand and press the button if you need us.”

You accept the small device and slide it into your pocket. It’s invisible, and you nod as Hondo reassures you everything will be okay.

“I know you can’t tell me what exactly Dupree is doing, but you’re going to catch him, right?” you ask softly.

“Absolutely. Nobody can run from S.W.A.T.”

You scan your keycard and wait for Deacon to do the same before opening the door. The employee entrance is on the side of the building, and you smooth your hands over your hips nervously. When you feel the device Hondo gave you, you relax slightly.

“We’ll walk to my desk, look at a few papers, and then go in?” you suggest as Deacon gestures for you to enter.

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

“The suit looks good,” you mumble as you walk toward the elevator.

Deacon chuckles as the elevator door opens, and you smile as he shakes his head at your flattery. The elevator is quiet, and as you wait to arrive on your floor, you take a few deep breaths. Deacon’s hand finds your lower back, and he rubs small, comforting circles before the door opens.

“Still working on the paperwork issue?” Nola asks when you reach your desk.

“Yeah, we are. This is Ryan from the Santa Monica branch,” you say.

Nola’s eyes narrow at you before she looks at Deacon’s hand. He’s close to you, like always, but you don’t understand her look. You raise your brows, but she only shrugs before looking back at her computer.

“Was it this one?” you ask Deacon.

He takes the blank form from your hand and nods. “Yes, this is the one.”

You return the paper to its rightful place on your desk before leading Deacon down another hallway. Nola’s reaction confused you at first, yet you’re not surprised when Deacon gently grabs your hip to stop you in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s fine. Just stay calm and remember our covers. Like you said, Dupree won’t know any difference,” Deacon soothes. “And the team’s waiting for our signal if we need them.”

You nod, and Deacon’s hands raise to your shoulders as he drops his chin to look into your eyes.

“You got this,” he promises.

“I need to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Dupree,” you inform his secretary. “This is Mr. Ryan Davidson from the Santa Monica branch. There have been some discrepancies with paperwork submitted to their office, which needs Mr. Dupree’s immediate attention.”

His secretary raises the receiver of her desk phone and whispers into it. You turn to look at Deacon, and he tilts his head to the left to signal you to stay calm and wait.

“You can go on in,” the secretary says as she lowers the phone.

Deacon opens the door for you, and you step inside first.

“Hello,” Mr. Dupree greets. He doesn’t pretend to remember your name, you notice. “I heard there’s an issue with some paperwork?”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon says. “I’m Ryan Davidson with the Santa Monica office and we’ve been having issues; receiving incomplete or incorrect paperwork from this branch.”

“My sincerest apologies, Ryan. If you don’t mind, use that laptop there and sign into your account while I bring mine up. We’ll get this sorted.”

You stand back as Deacon walks to the table at the back of the office and opens the laptop. Mr. Dupree didn’t shake his hand, ask for identification, or take other proper steps before jumping to help. It’s suspicious, but probably not what Deacon and his team need.

“What kind of incorrect information have you seen?” Mr. Dupree asks. You open your mouth to answer, and he adds, “Ryan?”

“Financial statements that aren’t matching previous months, for one. Most likely an oversight or adding the same bill twice. Nothing too extreme, just something we need sorted before the end-of-year audits,” Deacon answers.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his response. He practically repeated a complaint you shared during your last dinner together.

“Very well. I don’t know why the system is moving so slowly,” Dupree responds. He moves his hand under his desk as Deacon types.

You watch Dupree because Deacon’s team is getting him the access he needs. When you see the handle of a gun gripped in Dupree’s hand, you call, “Gun!” and drop to the floor just before he shoots above your head.

Deacon pulls his own weapon and points it at Dupree as he demands, “Put the gun down. I’m Sergeant Kay, L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.”

As Deacon speaks, you slowly press your back against the side of Dupree’s desk, where he can’t see you. Deacon’s eyes are on Dupree, but you watch Deacon because you trust him to keep you safe.

“I could put it down,” Dupree says. “But if I angle it like this and pull the trigger, wouldn’t it hit your little friend?”

Deacon glances at you quickly, and you lock eyes before you shift away from the oversized desk.

“One more time: drop the gun,” Deacon repeats.

You can’t see Dupree, but you clap your hands over your ears as you hear two shots. Everything goes quiet, and you lean forward slowly to look for Deacon. He kneels before you and gently pulls your hands away from your head. You let him move you before surging forward to hug him. He welcomes you into his arms as footsteps echo in the hallway outside.

“It’s okay. We got him,” Deacon promises.

You nod against Deacon and allow him to help you stand. Deacon keeps you angled away from Dupree’s desk, and you’re happy to avoid looking.

“Did you get everything you need?” you ask quietly as Street and Luca lead a paramedic inside.

“We did. Are you okay?”

Deacon lays a hand on your shoulder, and his thumb presses gently into your tense muscles as he looks into your eyes.

“Get her out of here. Hondo said you can take the rest of the day. Maybe she can practice for the competition,” Luca calls.

“I think you need the practice more than me,” you reply without turning.

Luca laughs as Deacon wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the office. He takes you back to your desk to get your things, and Nola rushes to hug you when you enter the open area.

“I heard the shots and was so worried!” she exclaims. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you promise.

 “Then I need you to do something. Go home and ask your neighbor out. Don’t wait too long,” she says.

You nod and return to Deacon’s side. He heard everything from where he was standing, yet doesn’t comment as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Once you’re on the road, he fills the silence by asking you questions about what you will cook for your competition with Luca. You know he’s trying to distract you from what happened, and you appreciate it.

Back at the station, you sign some paperwork to receive CI benefits before walking to Deacon’s side. He offers to drive you home and keep you company, which you happily accept. You never like leaving Deacon and don’t want to be alone tonight.

“I waited too long,” Deacon murmurs while walking you out.

You stop and turn to face him as you ask, “For what?”

“What your friend said. I waited too long to ask you out.”

You smile and slide your hand into his. “Did you know that Nola looked at us like that because you were standing really close to me?" Deacon shrugs, and you explain, “I never shut up about you, Deac. I’m in love with you, so she was confused about why I was standing so close to another man.”

“Never?” Deacon repeats playfully.

“You didn’t wait too long, Deac,” you promise.

“I didn’t?”

“Not if you take your chance right now.”

Deacon looks around quickly before yelling, “Hicks! Did you file it yet?”

“No; I’m busy, Deacon,” Hicks answers.

“Can you make her Hondo’s CI?”

Hicks looks between the two of you and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can.”

When Deacon turns back to you, he doesn’t give you time to speak before he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer.

Your smile grows to match Deacon’s, but he makes it disappear when he pulls you in and kisses you. The sound of clapping makes you open your eyes as you pull back. Hondo leads 20 Squad in a round of applause, and you bury your face in Deacon’s chest to hide your grin and burning embarrassment.

“My CI’s never end up like this,” Hondo jokes.

“Pretty good timing, though, wasn’t it?” Deacon asks as he wraps his arms around you.

You stand wordlessly from the couch and walk past Deacon. He turns to watch you as you enter your bathroom and close the door. It only takes a moment for him to decide to follow you.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks from outside the door. “And don’t just say you’re fine. We both know you’re not.”

You open the door and lean against the vanity as he walks in. “I feel bad that you had to shoot Dupree. I know he’s fine and he’ll recover, pay for him crimes, and everything. But you probably wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t think like that. If he had refused to drop the gun or fired again, I would have stopped him. Whether you were there or not. The only thing that was different was how fast I decided to do it; he was threatening you, but that didn’t affect my reaction itself.”

You nod, and Deacon places his hands on the vanity, caging you and keeping you close. “Don’t carry that guilt around,” he requests. “It gets heavy quickly.”

You slip your arms under Deacon’s to circle his waist. Because of your position, you look up at him and ask, “Could I have another kiss to help me overcome all of this guilt?”

Deacon laughs as his hand raises to rub your back. “Anything for my accidental CI.”

“I’m Hondo’s CI,” you remind him.

“But I’m the one that gets to kiss you, so who has the better timing?”

You let your kiss answer the question, and when Deacon pulls you against him to be even closer, you know that the wait was worth it. Though you probably won’t agree to go into the office of a weapon trafficker with him again, you will always be ready to help him when he asks and comfort him when he can’t. Despite how much you loved Deacon when you thought you could only be friends, you feel more love now that you know he feels the same.

[sykam0re]

Analysing the new Splatoon 3 Wave 2 DLC - Side Order

I am about 90% sure this is supposed to be Agent 8!

As such, what I talk about next will be based entirely around this assumption - if this is wrong, then this analysis is void, but it's just for fun anyway so hskshj

I personally believe this wave of the DLC will be tackling the loose ends in regards to Octo Expansion, and more specifically: 8's amnesia prior to starting it. Having no memory of who they are or where they came from, they fight their way through the metro, defeating Tartar along the way and reaching their freedom on the Surface.

But then...

Who are they still?

Besides the memcakes, this issue is never quite resolved. As such- I believe the DLC will focus on that! With Agent 8 rediscovering who they used to be, and who they are now. Figuring out their identity and sense of self so they can finally know who they are. And based on what we saw in the trailer, I have several ways to back up this idea.

First up: the hub. A coral-ridden, colour-bleached version of our beloved Inkopolis Square. There is a strong coral themeing throughout the entire DLC trailer, and I think the reason why might be relevant to 8.

Coral bleaches when exposed to stressors in its environment, such as light, temperature and nutrients. So perhaps this is a metaphor for all the stressors on Agent 8's psyche. Their environment has changed dramatically, from Underground to the surface world of Inkopolis, so it wouldn't even surprise me if such changes still left them quite out of it.

It could also be a metaphor for how Inkopolis Square still isn't home for them. Considering the very intentional hotel-esque interior of the tower, a hotel being a place travellers go to stay in, this could very well encourage the idea that this still isn't home for 8. Just a glorified trip, regardless of whether or not they even can go 'home'. If they even remember home. The fanciness of it could also be a nod to how out of place they feel, as though they were in a place far out of their league. Like a common man in a palace, it feels...out of place.

Then? You have this image of multiple octolings. Multiple '8s', that perhaps could imply that they are still struggling to find their identity in a sea of so many like them. So many soldiers like them, so many test subjects like them...

They were always one of thousands, nothing more than a number in a crowd, so they never had any individuality. They never felt they were unique. So why is them who got to find their freedom? Why were they special?

And now we make it to the key in all this:

Pearl and Marina.

Pearl and Marina were a key component in helping 8 escape the Deepsea Metro. So if anyone would be here for them in such a struggle: it's them. The idea of it being a recollection of 8's memories could also explain Marina's glitched out appearance here.

It's just a memory. Were her tentacles blue, or green? Was this her outfit? Or was it something else? Maybe 8 even has some lasting memory issues after everything...hence how even newer memories seem to escape them.

Pearl seems to meet them in the blanked out square, so they're likely a key part in all of this. Just a hunch.

Overall though, I'm really really excited!! This DLC looks like it's shaping up to be something amazing, and I hope my silly ramblings at least interest some of you <:)

Thank you for reading! ♡

[danmainacc]

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD

As Leo, Mikey, Don, and Casey ride in the Turtle Tank, Casey tells stories of the future…….and you.

Character: Leonardo

Writing type: One-shot

Warnings: none, just some tooth-rotting fluff and a few innuendod ;) and maybe the teeniest bit of angst if you squint

Author’s note: okay so it’s pretty obvious I am obsessed with Future! Leo and this idea randomly came to mind as I was watching The Thing ( don’t ask ) and just had to write it. ( credit to qoeww for photo )

...

“The Turtle Tank, baby! It’s how we roll in the past. I mean, the present. I mean...Ugh! Time travel’s confusing,” Mikey groaned, slumping in his seat in the Tank.

“They’re on the move. According to the subcutaneous tracker I put on Raph--.” “Wait, does that mean you put trackers on all of us?” Leo cocked his brown bone, giving his twin a suspicious and scolding look, Mikey doing the same.

“No. No, of course I did...n’t,” Donnie sheepishly denied, an awkward smile plastered on his face.

“Based on their trajectory, they’re headed--.” “To the tallest building in the city,” Casey finished, eyes wide. 

“That’s right, Metro Tower,” Donnie nodded, confused at how he knew.

Casey shuddered, the memories coming back to him in flashes as he recalled the scary stories Commander (y/n) used to tell him.

“I heard the story so many times as a kid, but I never thought...And behold, from their perch atop New York City, the Kraang ripped open the sky itself. What came out was terror, and what rained down upon us was worse than death,” Casey recited. 

Commander (y/n) might’ve been a little dramatic.

“They told that to kids?! Man, the future is harsh,” Mikey exclaimed, slumping in his seat once again.

“Well, I’m not gonna let that happen. We need to get into Metro Tower without being spotted. We’ll take the subway tunnels,” Leo firmly stated, turning to Donnie. 

“Subways tunnels don’t offer much in the way of an escape if we need it. Are you sure about this?” Donnie cocked a brow, turning around to give Leo a serious look.

“Yeah, maybe we should--.” “Guys, we’re doing it my way. Remember?” Leo dismissed.

The two brother gave each other concerned looks before focusing back on the road, an uncomfortable silence settling over the Tank. 

Casey looked around anxiously, fidgeting with a loose string on his glove.

Being sent to the past in itself was a nerve-wracking experience, but nothing was more concerning than watching his old masters fight like this.

In the future, the brothers were inseparable, the epitome of a strong sibling relationship. Everyone listened, everyone talked, everyone heard.

He had to find some way to get them talking, healthily at least. 

“In the future, you guys are beyond amazing,” Casey started, catching the attention of the brothers.

“The mystic powers you’re able to harness from within are on a whole other level.”

“Of course! How have we not asked about my future?” Donnie smiled, putting the tank on auto-pilot and throwing an arm around Casey’s shoulder. 

“Don’t let me down, I am expecting BIG things from me. How many Nobel prizes do I have. No! Don’t tell me. I wanna be surprised.”

“Donnie, you were the most brilliant, innovative mind of all time. Without you, the resistance wouldn’t have made it half as far as it di-is...without you,” Casey quickly caught himself, relieved to see that the brothers didn’t notice.

He didn’t want to tell them what happens, not yet, at least.

“You built weapons, tended to the wounded, and trained a select few how to build and program your tech.”

“I’m shocked, I am. Go on, continue to meet my expectations,” Donnie smirked, plopping himself back down in his seat and kicking up his feet.

“What do I do in the future?” Mikey asked, starry-eyed.

Casey turned around and gave the orange turtle a warm smile.

His plan was working.

“You are the most powerful mystic warrior the world has ever known,” Casey started.

“You trained the next generation of yokai and humans alike to wield mystic power, and protected the camp with your infinity chains at every turn.”

He walked over to Mikey, who was absolutely flabbergasted, and grabbed his wrists.

“And with those two hands, you sent me back in time!”

“Wowwwwwwwww,” Mikey marveled, staring down at his hands as Casey let go.

He quickly held them out, wiggling his fingers as he concentrated hard, a few beads of sweat rolling down his head. 

It made Casey smile to see one of his former masters so fun-loving and care-free, the break from the constant worry of battle, refreshing.

“Ahem,” Leo nonchalantly cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with the time traveling boy.

“What about me?”

Casey’s gap toothed smile grew wider, the pleasant memories of his Sensei...no...his father running through his head. 

“You were our fearless leader. If there was a rescue needed, a cargo shipment to raid, hell, a patrol slot that needed to be filled, you were the man--er--turtle. You trained some of the younglings how to use weapons and hand-to-hand combat, and were the lead strategist when it came to coming up with ways to fight back against the Kraang!” Casey gushed, gasping after finishing the whole thing in one breath.

Leo smirked, resting his cheek in his palm as he soaked everything in.

“I like this. I like this very much,” He nodded.

That’s when Casey remembered one, teeny, little detail, and smirked to himself as he leaned back, casually.

He knew Leo and Commander (y/n) were together in this time, “boyfriend and girlfriend” he believed it was called. So maybe this information might put his former Sensei at ease. 

“Oh, and you were married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Leo practically choked on air, and Donatello almost slammed on brake, Mikey’s eyes practically bulging out their sockets.

“WHAT?!” The three exclaimed in unison, frantically looking at Casey for some elaboration.

Casey nervously chuckled, confused at their sudden surprise. “W-Well, that’s what you used to call Commander (y/n). I think you guys get married 2 or 3 years after the Kraang first arrive.”

A lazy smile stretched across Leo’s face as he leaned back in his chair, relishing in the thought.

He already knew you were the one he wanted to marry, no doubt about it. You were his one and only. But so soon? And during the apocalypse? How did it work? Did the two of you make time for each other? Did the two of you do...adult things?

“Whoo hoooo! Looks like big bro put a ring on it,” Mikey teased, suggestively wiggling his brow bones at his older brother.

“She’s really that beautiful?” Leo sincerely asked, turning to Casey with hopeful eyes.

Casey returned a truthful smile, giving a firm nod. “Gorgeous. Despite the fact that she was living through an apocalypse, she could still very much compete with the women in the Before-Times.”

Leo grinned from ear to ear at the image, your already stunning self becoming even more radiant with age and development. He was over the moon in excitement.

Until he realized.

“Wait. What do you mean was?” Leo quickly asked, furrowing his brow bones as he turned to Casey with an icy stare.

The color practically drained from Casey’s face as he realized his mistake, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

This isn’t how he wanted them to find out.

Not like this.

“I--.” “AUTO-BREAK: ENGAGED!” The Tank stated in a robotic tone, the vehicle coming to a sudden stop.

The brothers were sent flying forward, their minds quickly forgetting Leo’s question.

Casey let out a sigh of relief as he stood up, scratching his arm.

‘Thank you, Pizza Supreme.’

...

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.14<< >>Ch.16

Notes: Miguel is having a bit of a comeuppance within the society.

CW: Morning sex, fingering, penetration, PinV

Chapter 15: You Let Me Fall First...

Word count: 6.3K

An alarm began to beep, rudely awakening you from your comforting dreams. Groaning out, you rolled over, only to groan even louder.

“Man, I am sore.” You snuggled up closer to him, locking your arms around a bit of his torso.

“Means I did a good job.”

He kissed your shoulder, and then the marks from his fangs lingered on it.

“Mm, is that going to be permanent?” 

“Depends. It's going to remain for a good several days, but I can make it permanent if that's what you prefer.”

His voice dropped, tightening his grasp on your waist, spinning you on your back, and squishing his body mass on yours.

“Miggy! Bleh! You're too heavy!”

Your head was buried in his chest, swatting anything your palms could. “Off! Off, I say!” 

Ceasing your attack when the rumbling from Miguel's laughter juddered your body, you flopped your hands down in defeat.

Taking in his scent, you closed your eyes. The cedarwood and the smell of your union attacked your nose as you drifted into the future.

Waking up to him every morning to him spooning you, or you spooning him, dallying in bed for an extended period, aware that work or household chores have to be done, yet you neither bother to budge.

Knowing that you're able to be by his side, engulfed in a warmth so prominent, you would never ask for anything again if it meant you got to be by him.

All you would want is to stay in that moment. At this point, at this instant, nothing would wedge you two. Nothing could break this or the future that will bestow.

“Mi Luna? You okay?” Miguel himself shifted off to give you some breathing space, until you shoved yourself back in-between his pecs, muffling.

“I can't hear you, mi corazón.”

“Why do you have better boobs?”

“Huh?” 

“Better boobs! They are just so mesmerizing! Impeccable!” You giggle at the pun causing him to groan out.

“I swear… but I don't know about that; I think yours are pretty amazing. If not better.” He hauled you up, eyes on yours.

Entrancing. That was one of the many words to describe whenever he admires those glistening eyes. He admired you, and for the first time in years, he faced sincere peace and authentic love. Dawning how much he pined and ached for this.

Knocking your forehead on his, you joyously grinned. “Let's say it's a tie, with you slightly closer.”

“Deal.” He grazed your lips with his.

You stayed that way for a minute. Your alarm goes from the irksome beeps to the relaxing notes of rhythm and blues. Dulcet breathing is shared between you.

“I have to get up for work.” 

Miguel gruffly scoffs, turning you both onto your sides and holding you more firmly.

“Miggy, don't you have work as well?”

“Si.”

“So we have to get up.”

“No. Let's stay here.”

“You know we can't, mi Estrella.”

Caressing his forearm, you slightly turned your neck to peek behind, and you were met with that endearing pout and baggy, pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Come on now; don't do that. You know I can't…”

They seemingly got bigger.

“Damn it, Miggy. Fifteen minutes, but that's it. If Ronnie finds out I'm late because of canoodling, she'll have your body as a display mannequin.”

“Now why am I the one going to be punished?” He smirked, lapping the base of your neck.

“Because she says you're a bad influence on me. And you know, maybe she's onto something.” 

“Aw, do you really believe that, corazón?” His tone is harsh and gravelly, yet he holds every bit of that sexy hold that you don't bother to escape.

"I—ah—I think you are. Fu-fuck, Miggy. You have too much- ah, too much ascendancy on me.”

His long fingers found their way in between your thighs as he glided his pointer and middle digits up and down your already dampened sex.

“Mm, I feel as though I don't have that much. But we both know I can strive to add a lot of… guidance on the matter.”

He teased your clit, gently tugging and pinching it, his finger barely pushing into your entrance, evoking a whimper.

“Wha- ah! What more could you want–fuck!" You cried out when Miguel gradually drove his sheathed finger into you.

“I'm a very selfish man, mi Luna.” He emphasized your nickname. “I will find a way to get what I want.”

He propelled in and out, spreading your legs to provide better access, and plunged another deep into you. Your walls cling as he brushes against your g-spot repeatedly.

A strangled cry broke free when he began to scissor. Your slick was dripping down, and the noises emanating from you overpowered the music.

“And from the way you're reacting, I think you like me being a bad influence on you.”

“Miggy!” You drawled out, fidgeting under his touch, ashamed of how you could crumble under his touch so easily.

His palm rubbed against the stiff nub, twisting with each push. His length was pressing against your inner thigh.

“Tan agradable y húmedo sólo para mí. Mi hermosa Luna haciendo esos sonidos solo para mi.” 

He frantically pumped, biting down on your neck and leaving fresh, new hickies. You rolled your hips with him, adding more stimulation. Throwing your head back, you covered your mouth to prevent any loud sounds from leaving.

“Luna mía, no los escondas. Hay ocasiones en las que quiero que otros escuchen quién te hace desmoronarse una y otra vez.”

He fingered you faster, his appendages working in a hasty motion, your muscles feeling every satisfying breach, juices smearing and coating his fingers with every stroke.

Slamming both hands over your lips, your head was in a full whirlwind of ecstasy.

“¡¿Qué dije?!” He barked, tugging his fingers out. “Let them hear you!” 

He grinded his cock against you before burying himself to the hilt, your wetness melding. His ragged breath sent sparks down your spine. Taking tantalizingly slow bucks, you sob out.

“Mm! Don't do this! Please, please, faster.” You tried to press down against him, only to have him grip and hold onto your waist.

“Will you scream?”

“I-I can't be lou- aah!" His clawed hand wrapped around the sides of your throat as your breathing picked up.

“Will. You. Scream?” He snarled, fairly squeezing.

“Ye-yes! I will!” You garbled out, hot tears streamed down, your vision foggy from the immense burning passion.

“Bien.” 

He thrust at an intense pace, your back dragging up and down his hard abs and chest as you wailed out.

His balls slap against your folds, adding more to the already noisy orchestra of thrills. The engorged tip strikes the top wall as you flutter around his length, feeling every vein and drive.

“Oh Miguel! So big! So good with your fat cock!”

His ego shot up. Gripping your neck tighter, your mind began to race.

He could easily snap you in two if he wanted; in a split second, you could be broken into nothing. How exposed you were. Yet he's so rough, but gentle, that he's holding back so much just to bring you these fleeting experiences.

And that aroused you further.

You shrieked his name, begging him to go faster, and Miguel happily obliged. He pulled out, briskly moving you into your stomach, shuffling around until he was behind. One leg planted on the ground, the other perched and bent up next to your leg. 

Propping you up until your ass was in the air and spreading your legs, Miguel grunted at the sight of the glistening streams of your shared fluids.

“Oh, mi Luna, I will devote and admire you and your body until the end of days. And even that wouldn't suffice for my needs and wants for you.”

He started to handle himself, pumping a few times, and began to slip back into your tight entrance. His hands massaged your back, sliding down until his talons groped your rear, making you whine out.

Sweaty and disheveled, you awaited in anticipation when he penetrated, filling and stretching you back up.

You sharply inhaled at the suddenness, shouting as Miguel rolled his pelvis into you, watching your behind bounce back whenever he rocked forward.

“Such a nice ass that only papi gets to see.”

“Miggy, you are so–fuck–so untamed!”

“That's right. Take it, mi Luna, take it all.”

Clenching onto the sheets as tight as your heat, the bed lurched against the barrier, embarrassed at how you would have to really apologize to your next-door neighbors now.

Pushing you down even further, he found the right spot that had you screaming your head off. Your heart pulsed, your brain was heavy, and your body was flaming hot.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your skull, your tongue flopping out as saliva ran down your chin and onto the pillow. Miguel strummed your stomach, hips, and thighs, stopping right over your clit and stroking it with figure eights.

“I love hearing you scream; everything about you is so good, mi corazón.”

“You're so wonderful to me–Mmm! Fuck, fuck! Right there!”

The tandem syncing of each push drove you two delirious. Your words were incoherent, with every slap and squish holding that daze deep in them.

He was drunk on you. Drunk for it all. The pooling from the sweat and your slick as he smelt your heady release was edging its way up.

You eyed the clock and internally winced. Your little rendezvous spilled into overtime. Ronnie would survive.

“Close! I'm close—mi Estrella! Cum in me! Fill me up! Give me every drop!”

Miguel moaned out, the fuse ready to explode from your needy cries. Digging into your hips, he sank in as much as possible, nearly slipping out from his violent thrusts and your drenching cunt.

“Take–take it. So tight for papi, so good; such a good girl, mi Luna.”

His mind floated back to his kids. A vivid scene of them jumping on the bed, wanting you two to wake up and make cinnamon waffles for breakfast, as you try to scold them but end up laughing at the silly situation. 

You'll turn and kiss him, rolling out of bed to put your house slippers on, as he’ll carry the little ones as they crawl and swing all over his body.

“Mmmph!” 

Miguel spilled out and bent forward. You felt his hefty chest on your back, convulsing madly and milking nearly every spurt and every drip. There was so much shooting deep in your core.

You whimpered as a certain set of fangs found their way back into your neck. Miguel held you securely when realization snuck up on him.

“Fuck. Luna, mi Luna, corazón, stay awake. I didn't mean to bite. Mierda, shit, shit.” 

He pulled himself off you, shoving some of the stray strands of ejaculation back into your opening, satisfied with the result. Flopping you on your back, he stared at the stickiness of your body and your glossy, fulfilled eyes.

Leaving the room before coming back, he began to dab you with a clean, damp towel, sheepishly grinning at his interim paralyzed partner.

“Call… Ronnie… gonna… late…”

“Do you think I'll look good as a mannequin?”

A shiver of a curved smile appeared on your numb face before Miguel kissed you tenderly.

He did get an earful from Ronnie, nagging and demanding to know what he did to ‘her girl,’ and how she was going to stuff him to be a display dummy. Luckily, Ronnie had a severe hangover and had a special guest over, so the shop was closed for the day.

Taking advantage of that, he assisted you in striving to reduce the immobilization timeframe. While ordering breakfast and cuddling you, you eventually regained your voice and chatted about everything and nothing at the same time while awaiting the meal.

“You know, I was wondering why I didn’t scream; you caught me before it could come out. And my poor neighbors. I hope they’re cool like the downstairs one.”

“What was that thing they told you?” Miguel scratched feather-light touches with his claws along your back.

“That you were stirring my meals all in one pot.”

“I still don’t understand what the hell that means.” 

Stifling your giggles, you exhaled a content sigh. “Also, thank you for calling Ronnie. Sorry she cursed you out like that.”

“I’m used to her diablerie behavior by now; she is basically your version of Peter. And speaking of Peter, you met him the other day? I'm surprised you didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh yeah! That was an hour of… irrefutable absurdity. I was tempted to call you and beg you to come over, but I held my own.”

Miguel rearranged the positions so you were eye level with him, interested in hearing your side. 

“What all happened? What all did you talk about? Peter didn’t harass you, did he?” He glowered his eyes, nearly awakening a new wave of desire from you.

“N-no. He was fine. Though a bit overzealous, he was very sweet. And that Mayday is such a sweetheart, but you can definitely tell that she is his daughter.”

“Did you show her around?”

“I did. We played with some of the toys and read some pop-up books together. We had a grand time.”

A quiver of a smile nearly glinted on him. “I would’ve come by, you know.”

“I know, just didn’t want you to experience Ronnie and Peter under one roof yet. I was the guinea pig for us. And it went entirely as we expected. It was a R-rated Ronnie and PG-Peter story; one was more brash and the other modest. But one day you will succumb to the eccentric extravaganza.” 

You simultaneously grimace at the thought of all four in the same room.

“I also heard you talked about me.”

“Of course, why would I not? You are amazing and deserve to be gushed about. Even though I have moments of me being a bit selfish and wanting to hog you all for myself, I know that at the end of the day, I’m yours and you’re mine, and that I will always get to be around you. Well, not always around, but you know what I mean. But yes, I do want to shout from the rooftops and yell, ‘hey! That’s my handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway lover. Let me give a bazillion reasons why he’s the best!’”

His pulse raced, and his cheeks crimson like his eyes. The compliments and unfeigned love from you still shocked and bemused him after all this time. You never saw him as this tainted figure; you accepted his flaws and the mistakes that he wanted to better and mend with open arms and patience. And you didn't uphold any ridiculous standards or expectations for him.

Thud.

He dropped his forehead down for that welcoming sign you both knew, and pushed his lips into yours. He was hungry and ardent for you. He would devote his time to you at the drop of a hat, and he wouldn't let anything or nothing hold him back from it.

“Me traes muchas cosas que pensé que nunca podría volver a sentir.” 

“I love you too, Miggy.”

Interrupted by a buzz from the doorbell, Miguel scowled and stumbled out of bed, ready to tear apart whoever was at the door. After inadvertently frightening the delivery person, Miguel helped you sit up against some pillows and mostly fed you.

“Hey.”

“Yes?” He held up a fork of eggs and brought them to your mouth.

“How is–this is yummy–how is Jess doing with her pregnancy? How far along is she?” You swallowed and opened up for another bite.

“Jess? Well, she's okay. She's going pretty smoothly, I think.” Miguel picked up his toast and chomped down on it before turning back to you.

“It's okay to say you don't know, Miggy.”

“I don't know. Is that a bad thing?”

“I wouldn't necessarily say bad, but they are still your workers who have feelings and probably suffer copious amounts of pain. It'll be good to check in on her. Especially if she's working so hard, it could be taking a toll on her.” 

“But she's a spider; she can handle it.” He took a sip of your orange juice before leaning toward you.

“Thank you. And not exactly the external aspects; I'm sure she is a strong woman, but the internal ones as well.”

Trying to lift your arm to point at your brain, it promptly plopped back down. “Gosh, your venom is strong. Back to the matter at hand. Pregnancy is a tough thing. Well, I wouldn't know, but I've read the stories. You're carrying another being in you, creating a new life. A baby deriving one's energy is a lot to handle.”

Another bite. “So simply see how she's doing in general, deal?”

He smiled and munched the rest of his bacon. “Deal, mi corazón. Also, I see you eyeing my potatoes. I'll give you some in exchange for your strawberries.”

“You know, potatoes aren't even that delicious. They're the weakest of all the vegetables.”

“¡Oye! Weak?! You know, I take offense to that. You're making my ancestors weep.” 

“Ah yes, I don't want to upset the potato ghosts, do I now?” Your voice was innocent, but the outspread grin was crafty.

“How very stereotypical of you. For that, you will be disciplined.” He plucked one of your strawberries up and ate it, leaves and all.

A rasping stutter of squeaks and other noises came out of you, causing you to full-stop at the sounds you somehow managed to produce. Staring at one another, Miguel began to choke on the fruit as uncontrollable howls of laughter escaped.

“Oh my God! I can't even hide! This is clearly the worst punishment. The worst timeline!”

You bickered frivolously as Miguel gave in and fed you some of his potatoes, much to his amusement.

With the sliver of sunshine on your bed, dust particles suspended in the golden pigment, the soft melodies from the alarm clock, and your beaming smile and snickers, Miguel completely forgot about his straining life. His taxing “job.”

You were really good at doing that.

He thought about how he'd be prepared to trade nearly everything to preserve these moments with you forevermore. And it wasn't the first time these convictions came to light.

“Miguel… Miguel, where are you? We need—hey. Hey! Be careful with that! I said, be careful! He'll kill us if it's- Miguel! We need you here at the headquarters. We caught two Electros, and they are trying to mirror each other's attacks, but they're messing with th- put it down! Hey, hey, no! Miguel, please hurry!”

His watch blared from the floor. He forgot that he threw it off last night in the heat of the moment, but he didn't turn it off.

“Tienes que estar bromeando, ¿por qué estos idiotas no pueden hacer nada?” He sneered before tidying up the area.

“I'm assuming it's a big danger?”

“Doubtfully. They're sadly too incompetent to get anything done for themselves.”

“Hey, there are some days we need extra help. I mean, you literally had to feed me.” You gave a lopsided smile.

“Yes, but there's a difference. I don't mind doing that. In fact, I would do that all day, every day.”

“So you'd rather shove spoonfuls of eggs down my throat forever than fight electric people?”

“That's exactly right. Especially shoving more than eggs down your throat.” He winked, gathering up his underwear.

“Hey! No! Stop that!” You were flustered by the accidental innuendo you made and his cocky response.

“You brought that upon yourself, mi corazón.”

You blew a raspberry at him and tried to cross your arms, but to no avail. He smirked, grabbing his devices as his suit began to materialize. Your eyes glanced down as the digital outfit hugged his general buttocks area nicely.

“Even got a better ass; now how is that fair?”

“I heard that.” He perched himself on the edge of the bed and stroked your face.

“Good.” You puckered out your lips as he inclined inward, giving you a sweet kiss.

“How did I get you? Me of all people.”

“Simply by being you and this handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway, but mostly you.”

Those genuinely compassionate eyes had him in that trance. If given the opportunity to become trapped in them, he would purposely avoid the exits.

“Do you want your shirt back?”

“No, leave it on. I don't want mi Luna to get cold.”

“It's almost summer.”

“Right. You justifiably look cute in it, and I now have a newfound obsession with seeing you in my formal clothes.”

“Leave your clothes; I'll wash them. I may even be wearing that blazer when you come back. Just the blazer.” Your eyes were heavily hooded at the thought.

“Don't tempt me, mi Luna.” He tilted your head back and growled down your neck, obtaining a hushed moan.

"Ah- ye-yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He simpered, appearing pleased at the response.

He settled you back in bed, making sure you were comfortable. Ready to doze off, you quickly halted him before he climbed out the window.

“Miggy?”

“Si, mi Luna?” He phased his mask on and turned back to you.

“Do you have a thing for Peter? I'm validly curious; I wouldn't even be mad. So is it on the down low or…”

You blink as he narrows his eyes. You couldn't exactly see them, but his mask did it for him.

“Ay dios mío. You're lucky I find you wonderfully beautiful and amazing.”

“I love you too!” You yelled out with the last bit of strength and fell right to sleep.

Miguel shook his head at your ridiculous Peter comment, flinging himself around his city. If you were going to start joking about that, he wouldn't mind. He imagined him chasing after you as you teased him, wiggling your cute bottom and sticking your tongue out, taunting that he couldn't catch you.

He'd take that challenge, catching you off guard with his speed, and begin to mercilessly tickle you. Your shrieking laughter will fill the room until you'll cry out for mercy before catching him off balance, attacking him into submission, rolling around, and play-fighting before one thing may lead to another.

He never wants this to end.

Down goes a string.

The arrival of summer was a welcoming one this year. The leaves are now a richer green, the air is heating up, and above all, the skies have been fair.

You decided to take advantage of this day and scroll down to a certain park, especially since you got an extra thirty minutes added to your usual hour break.

“I wonder if it'll be crowded. I hope not. School should still be in session for the next couple of weeks or so.”

Arriving at the spot, there were a few picnickers, joggers, and a couple of teens probably skipping classes.

“Well, I'll have to make do. I can't have this lovely day all to myself.”

Scoping out for a place to lounge, you caught wind of a certain person in everyday wear, whose head was thrown back, body stiffer than a metal pole, likely due to the quantity of people, and seemed more tired than usual, despite the shades disguising his eyes.

Bounding your way over, you made sure to stand a few inches aside to not be caught immediately.

“Is this seat taken?” You shrouded your voice, trying to bring it down as deeply as possible.

“¡Ay dios mío! ¡Sí, este asiento está ocupado! ¡No! I'm not interested in-”

Miguel frustratingly snapped himself up, ready to tell off whoever was harassing him this time, when he caught himself.

“Luna? Mi Luna!” His strident tone instantly dropped as a zealous perk drifted out instead. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working around this time.”

Wriggling yourself next to him, you took up any room, sitting arm to arm. “Usually, but Ronnie allowed me to take my break early today and gave me extra time, so I decided to use it wisely. And boy, did I use it well or what?” 

“Or what?” He smirked and gruffly chuckled, receiving an eye roll and a jab from your elbow.

“Haha, so funny. I'm shocked to see you out here. From the way you flared up and nearly barked at me, I'm assuming others have been taking an interest?” You roamed over potential scouters who made an effort to play their hand with him.

“No creerías la cantidad de personas que no aceptan un no por respuesta. Es increíble, si te digo que no me interesa, déjalo pasar, ¡¿por qué los idiotas insisten en ir más lejos?!” He spouted out so fast that you got lost in a vortex.

“One of these days I will learn all of that. Mark my words. Mark it!” Your finger aimed at the sky in determination.

“Ay, sorry, mi Luna. And yes, you will. I just don't understand why people can't leave me alone! Why must they persist in any sort of advancement? And it's worse when I tell them I'm taken and they still try.” He jeered out, nearly grating the bench.

It was difficult for him. There were even points where some would try and hit on him when you were right there. They were very seldom, but when they happened, it was never fun. Miguel would shut it down, but in the most Miguel way possible. His towering stature and that unnerving presence he seemingly always has.

And it really shows when someone tries anything with you. He's a formidable person, but it seemingly ramps up to the point of no return.

Nonetheless, you could imagine how much worse it must be when he's by himself.

“They probably have this idea that you're saying that just to say it. The ‘well, I don't see them here,’ thought. Or some genuinely don't understand.”

“More likely the latter.” His snarkiness jumped out at no one in particular. “Tengo momentos en los que quiero darles un espectáculo. Inclínate y-”

Your eyes flickered to his face, cocking your head to the side.

“Nevermind. Ranting at this point.”

“Alright, what's going on, mi Estrella? You gave yourself a sporadic moment to recuperate, so something is bothering you, somebody made you upset, or the mixture.” You swirled yourself so one of your legs was on the wooden seat and the other swayed, your attention all on him.

You've been able to pluck up details about him effortlessly over time. With his usual stoic attire, many have a strenuous time depicting what exactly could be wrong with him, to the point that they eventually give up. Yet he allows his barricade of stoniness to partially crumble around you, so you don't face as much strain from getting a reading as much. He doesn’t feel the need to only sanction his two main emotions, stern and militant, toward you; he can express a handful with zero inconvenience.

And he plans on leaving it that way.

“Jess’s little rookie. She's been testing my patience as of late. Very, very thin ice she's been skating on. Les dices una cosa, pero siguen insistiendo, siguen intentando insistir en un punto que no se tendrá en cuenta, pero persisten.”

His knee hastily jittered, nerves and aggravation coursing through his veins and blood. All over. Your hand hovered over it and waited for the signal. It took him a minute to pacify and decrease the jerkiness, but he felt that hand massaging his joint.

“The ghost teen, right? What has she been doing exactly?” You spoke in that serene way that soothed him temporarily.

“She’s been wanting to see this ‘friend’ of hers. She’s been pestering me non-stop about it, but she knows she isn’t allowed, yet keeps fucking insisting!” He impaled his talons into the bench, overextending his very little patience from stripping any wood off it.

“Ah, yeah, teenagers don't take it kindly when third parties tell them who they can or can't hang out with.”

“But I gave her a reason! That should be enough, and I talked to her without yelling. So I don't understand!” 

“It can go a bit deeper. If she has a strong, established bond with this person, reasoning and logic can sometimes be thrown off the table. Yes, they may understand what you're saying and may see your point, but when emotions get involved, it can be a bit finicky.” 

You mindfully removed his claw from the seat and took the other, rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles.

“Take us, for example. If someone were to forcibly tell one of us to break it off, even with or without reason, would you do it?”

Miguel furrowed his heavy brows in deep thought. “Yes? No. Maybe? No. Yes? No. I don't know.”

“Mhm, there it is. You know the logic is still there, but it's on the floor, out of sight. The emotions are still on that table.”

His hidden eyes observed your gentle hands. “Would you?”

“No. Maybe? Well, honestly, no. It depends, but I'm pretty obstinate about what I care for. It takes a lot to dissuade me, but once I have that vice grasp, you'll need an entire brigade to move me.” 

Miguel smiled, but it faltered just as fast. “I don't know what to do. I had Jess try and discuss it with her, but that fell flat. I tried to listen, but she would try and pick an argument when I gave her the known causes. It's never good enough.” He didn't bother to mask his scathing crabbiness.

You licked your lips when an idea struck. “How about you have a compromise?”

“What?”

“Compromise with her. Maybe have someone watch over her, a parental figure or guardian, when she visits him.”

“What if she gets too engrossed when we need her? Or try to do something more?”

“Keep her preoccupied, so she isn't that distracted, even though she's a teen. Well, it can help her learn balance in a way. Maybe have her sweep the area; uh, are they from the same universe?”

He shook his head.

“Well, tell her to keep an eye out for suspicious activities and document tabs to immediately give to you. She could still see him and be kept busy as well. Also, like with any teen, give her a curfew. She can dwindle and hang, but not for too long.” 

The cognitive gears in Miguel's mind began to bustle and turn. “I could—I think I can work with that.” 

You watched the inquisitive thinking process take over before he feverishly nodded his head. “Yeah, I can do something like that. I can work something around it. Are you sure you aren't a spider with that beautiful, smart brain of yours?”

He swamped you in a strong embrace. A sign of affection and a sign to make sure others stay the hell away from you two.

“Miggy! Nooo. I try to see what can fairly work, if it could work, and hope that it makes sense.”

“Well, whatever it is, don't get rid of it.”

“That's the plan. And also, you're conflicted about wanting to keep me around?” You mischievously hummed out, nestling your head in his chest.

“No, no, I'm stubborn. And even if I were to say yes, I'd still find a way back to you. You have this magnetic hold that if I were to pull away, I would come flying back right to you.”

“Now that's very sound and reassuring. And I'd say you're more iron-willed. You don't back down at all.” You smiled so largely that it seemed as if your mouth took up most of your face.

“I certainly don't. Well, maybe there's an expectation.” He stroked your hair, scratching and massaging your scalp.

“And what's that?”

“I wouldn't mind giving in for you. You, the commander, and me, the lowly, humble subordinate. Whenever you tell me to jump, I'll question it at first, then immediately do it mid-sentence. Tell me to rollover; I may. Tell me on my knees… you know, I wouldn't mind that one at all.”

Blowing a raspberry, you covered your face from the sheer implications. “Oh my gosh, Miggy. I swear you are so indecorous, I wouldn't know what to do with you!”

“I can think of many things.” He pinched your inner thigh, making you yelp and playfully chastise him as a few shifty and nosy eyes cast their way towards you two.

You wasted some time mindlessly rambling back and forth about how the day has been treating you two, from people to unremarkable tasks. The normality that he adores so much. Eventually, you both had to get back to your respective jobs. To Miguel, it was his penitentiary. He posed innocence, asking if he could take you back to your job, but you insisted that he go back so he wouldn't get in trouble.

Then he strained his eyes by giving that endearing puppy-dog look, and somehow, it ended up with him walking you halfway back.

“How are you doing, Miggy?” 

“Huh? I'm fine. My mood hasn't changed in the past five minutes.”

“No, I mean in general. It's been a minute since I asked you that, so I'm just interested. How are you feeling?”

Peering up at the partly cloudy blue sky. The moon was slightly visible, but still enough to be seen by many. 

“In general?” He had to really think.

Things have been seemingly off-putting for the past couple days. With Gwen being so keen on visiting him, the sustainable mass of anomalies surfacing frequently, and more random hounding from Jess and other spiders, he evidently cannot catch a single break. More so than before.

Even with himself, he’s been feeling weirdly skittish as of late.

“I’ve been busy, to say the least. There is more frustration dealing with missions, as you know, and things have been... abnormal. I can’t exactly explain it.”

“Right. One of those occasions where you can’t pinpoint the exact emotion. I had many moments like that, even some that came at the most inconvenient of times.” You swung your arms back and forth, jumping over some cracks in the sidewalks.

“That’s the thing, mi corazón. I feel the usual annoyance and tiredness, but there is still an unspecified emotion that I know is there. Maybe I can’t pinpoint it like you stated, but what I do know is that it’s bothering me to no end.”

You faltered a bit in your steps. You wish you could understand what he does slightly more. Being on the outside and only allowed peeks from shreds of slits in the wall isn’t the most instructive and fortuitous way of receiving information. Especially when that tall crack only opens up so much to be viewed. Maybe you could ask for him to go further into specifics or get a personal tour of the teeming headquarters itself in the near future.

That would certainly help out a lot more. However, knowing him, would he even dare to allow it?

Miguel is very acute when it comes to separating the workplace from you. Well, not fully. He purposely makes sure to not let many things slip. He's particularly precise about what he gives away to keep you in a loop and still out of it for your safety.

“If only I were more helpful to you. It sucks hearing you have to deal with all that and have so much fallback on you.”

“Ay, mi Luna, you already do so much for me.” He halted in his tracks, lightly grabbing your arm. “You bring me serenity and this sense of openness whenever I'm around you.”

He still saw the self-inflicting guilt on your face when Miguel bent down until his forehead plopped on yours.

“Want to know how else I'm feeling in general? Happy. A scarce emotion that I haven't felt since mi osita, Gabi. I honestly thought I wouldn't have ever gotten to experience it again, but here I am. So trust and believe me when I tell you, mi Luna, you have done and do so much.”

Wiping away the tears threatening to form, you smile, kissing him with tenderness and love. “You big, loveable, gorgeous oaf. Don't make me cry before work, or Ronnie will think you made me upset.”

“Ronnie doesn't scare me. I'll show her the true reason why that'll make her recoil deep into her office.”

You share an earnest laugh before leaning in for one more deep kiss.

A string snapped.

“I love you, mi Estrella.”

“Y te adoro, mi Luna.”

When you reached the midway mark, he slyly tried to escort you all the way, but you caught on and ordered him to go back to work.

“At this moment, I'm the commander, and you are?” You folded your arms and tapped your foot, throwing back what he proclaimed at the park.

“Ay dio—I'm the lowly, humble subordinate.”

“Mhm. And as your commander, I am commanding you to go back to work before they harass you any further, and that I will be okay.” You grinned; the patience and affirmation in your pitch said it all.

“Yes ma'am. I will go.”

“Good boy.”

That definitely stirred something in him.

“I'll see you later on, Miggy. Bye, mi Estrella!” You blew a kiss and strolled away.

He hated to watch you go, but he knew that at the end of the day, you'd always be there waiting. He turned and began to trudge back.

Back to that place. Back to the hellscape. The plague that never ceases. The turmoil that will never stop. Just like this itch brewing deeply. What was it? What was this incarnation dwelling inside?

The fact that he had no control over it or any logical insight into it drove him insane. Was it a guttural reaction? Was his own body betraying him, refusing to gift his mind with information that loomed on his already pressurized shoulders?

He can't sense much. No spider sense. So why was he so hunched over this? Why does it seem that there's an arbitrary danger lurking somewhere?

Did the room become faintly... dimmer?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - A Songfic

Pairing: None 

Rating: General, although my blog is, as always, 18+ only 

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, breakups, mentions of Teresa x Patrick Jane

Summary: I am a visitor here. I am not permanent. 

A/N: @whatsnewalycat said that The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by the Postal Service was a Marcus Pike song and then I listened to it during a thunderstorm and imagined a whole scene based on it. I’m not sure whether or not to call this a songfic, but there are several direct quotations from the lyrics and the “plot” of this follows the song pretty closely.  For best results, listen to this song while you read. The lyrics are posted at the end of the fic <3

Masterlist

A lone figure cuts through the wet fog, his collar turned up and shoulders hunched forward in a futile attempt to ward off the elements. The faded leather jacket may have been sufficient enough for even the coldest winter days in Austin, but against the drizzle and wind in this new climate, it only succeeds at keeping him dry. Mostly. The notion that he may not be as well-prepared as he had originally thought himself to be grates on him, shame niggling at the back of his spine at the realization that he doesn’t even know where to go to purchase a winter coat.

A gust of wind sends thousands of miniscule, stinging droplets of water into his face, making him grimace, and Marcus wonders to himself how it could possibly still be raining with temperatures so close to freezing.

It seems as though he’s stopped at every street crossing, because of course he is, and he squints against the endless line of headlights and brake lights extending in either direction, blurring and distorting in the soggy weather, as he waits for the traffic lights to turn.

It gets dark so early here.

His phone buzzes against fingers shoved in his pockets, and he fishes it out to read the text message that flashes on the screen.

Sorry, I think you might still have my spare key? If so can you mail it back? Thx.

The cavity of his chest feels empty and raw as his vision seems to darken around the words, twisting and warping them much like the rain and the headlights. Marcus pockets the phone again without responding and stares blankly at the ground. He thinks about the endless, pitch-black tunnels stretching out in every direction beneath him, wondering how many feet of asphalt and concrete there are between the bottoms of his feet and the top of the cavernous expanse of the DC underground. He imagines the sidewalk crumbling, sending him down into the unknown depths.

In reality, he takes the escalator across the street.

The station is buzzing with life–as it always seems to be, no matter the hour–and Marcus watches vibrant humanity swirl around him. Two teenagers sharing the same pair of headphones. A tired-looking mother with two young children. A woman in a business suit, eyes glued to her phone. A disheveled old man, smelling of booze, that everyone subconsciously steps around without even a look in his direction. 

Marcus fishes in his pocket for his metro card, his fingers bumping against the badge he had immediately unclipped from his lapel upon leaving work–the one that spells out a single word with big block letters, just another indignity upon all of the other indignities he’s suffered this week.

When he had asked why his regular badge–the one he’s clipped on his lapel every morning for over a decade–wasn’t sufficient, the bored door attendant tried to explain about building access being tied to his network credentials, which were tied to something called “Active Directory,” and it couldn’t be done right now because they were experiencing downtime after a backup server failed, and Marcus didn’t really understand what any of this meant or why this hadn’t all been set up beforehand, but there was hardly a point in trying to get answers to his questions because none of it would speed up the activation of his new credentials, nor the delivery of his new laptop, which wasn’t arriving until Monday.

None of this was done with malicious intent, of course; nor is he the only new employee affected, going by the line of badged Agents standing in line every morning this week to get the day’s temporary access, but Marcus still feels like a marked man. Separate. Apart. Singled-out. 

I am a visitor here. I am not permanent. 

It only compounds upon that same feeling inside of him: that feeling that he’s on some sort of strange vacation, and that soon he’ll be able to return home. Home. To his little duplex in Austin, where he shared one wall with Mrs. Ruth Galloway, the eighty-five year-old widow he had a cup of tea with every Sunday at two pm. To the city he knows, the field office where he’d spent most of his career, with familiar rooms and familiar faces… where she walks through the familiar halls. With him. 

Marcus swallows thickly, shoving the painful lump down into his stomach. 

No, he can’t go home.

The spacious condo certainly doesn’t feel like home when he opens the door to find the large living room dark and cold and foreboding, although that’s probably mostly his fault–the walls are still lined with moving boxes, most of them still half-full with his belongings, messy and unkempt after rummaging through them to find the essentials and leaving the rest.

When he had toured the building, two weeks before the move, the large residence felt full of dreams, of possibilities, rather than empty and sterile. Marcus remembers going from room to room, his head filled with images of an idealistic future: a king-sized bed, his and hers towels in the pristine bathroom, a bookshelf large enough to fit all of their books in the first spare room, and, in the second spare room… a crib. 

Now, they’re just two empty rooms. 

The fridge is empty too, Marcus suddenly remembers, having not had a chance to find a grocery store yet. He’s been living out of takeaway containers, not even bothering to open the box of dishes and silverware. He takes out two styrofoam boxes–one half-filled with leftover Pad Thai, the other with chicken Tikka Masala, and dumps them side-by-side into the same container with a half-grimace.

Beats going back out into the weather.

There are two beers left in a six-pack bought three days ago, so he opens one and takes a long sip while the microwave heats his food. He thumbs through the mail he left on the kitchen counter absentmindedly, finding mostly junk advertisements and coupons, but a takeout menu for a Sushi restaurant catches his eye. As he sets it on top of several other menus he’d accumulated over the last couple of days, the microwave beeps, alerting him to the fact that his dinner is ready. 

Marcus sits at the kitchen table and flicks on the TV in the living room, setting the channel to some random rerun of a syndicated sitcom that he doesn’t recognize, mostly for background noise. He pulls a somewhat-soggy copy of the Washington Post he snagged from the breakroom from his messenger bag and flips through the pages without really reading any of the headlines until he finds the crossword. He halfheartedly fills out the clues as he eats, the canned laugh track from the show filtering in and out of his awareness. The clue ‘strips in geography class (6 letters)’ finally causes him to rub at his temples, setting down the pen as he rises to his feet to toss the empty container and bottle in the trash. 

The other beer is popped open, and Marcus settles down on the couch, flipping through channels. He pauses briefly on a black and white film–Roman Holiday, he recognizes after a minute or two of watching–but when Ann and Joe kiss on the riverbank, he quickly switches to a basketball game instead. Keeping the volume low, he lets his mind wander as he blankly watches the teams run back and forth on the court, not all that interested in the score. 

He needs to buy food. He needs to find somewhere he can get a winter coat. He needs to find a post office, he suddenly remembers, thinking of the text message from earlier. He checks the time–late, probably too late. Wait, no–it’s two hours earlier in Austin. Two beers is hardly enough to even feel the alcohol, but apparently it’s enough to dull his sense of judgment, because he finds himself pulling out his phone. The call goes straight to voicemail, and he tries not to think about the possibility that she’s screening her calls because of him.

“Hi, uh… Hi. I’m sure you’re busy, but I got your message earlier about the key, and… I think I do have one, yeah, but I’m not sure… where, exactly. I’m still in the process of unpacking, got a couple more boxes to go through,” Marcus says, looking at the large pile of boxes in front of him and knowing he’s got many more throughout the house. “I’ll make it a priority to find it and send it off this weekend.

“It’s really nice here,” he continues, seemingly not able to stop the flow of words once they’ve started. “There’s a Thai place down the street that you’d like, but the spring rolls are so-so. Not like that one place we found in Ridgetop, remember that one?” Marcus chuckles softly to himself, hardly recognizing the sound of his own laughter, and it sends a pang down into his chest. “I–” he stutters, blinking rapidly. “I know things weren’t perfect between us. The–the timing wasn’t right, and there were a lot of… of uh, obstacles in our way, but I’ve been doing–” he huffs humorlessly, “–a lot of thinking over the past couple of days, and I think I understand now. I saw a life that I wanted, and… I pushed for it. I pushed too hard, without–without thinking about how you felt about it, about whether you were ready, whether you even wanted a life with me. You were… you were trying to tell me, that whole time… and I didn’t listen. But I… I think I finally see it–why I was the one worth leaving. It was never going to be me, it couldn’t have been. I ignored all the signs that I was pushing too hard, not listening, pressuring you…” He takes a shaky breath, and lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry. You were right to leave. I–I wish you the best, Teresa.”

*

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

The Postal Service

Smeared black ink

Your palms are sweaty

And I'm barely listening

To last demands

I'm staring at the asphalt wondering

What's buried underneath

I'll wear my badge

A vinyl sticker with big block letters

Adhering to my chest

That tells your new friends

I am a visitor here, I am not permanent

And the only thing

Keeping me dry is

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

D.C. sleeps alone tonight

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

The district sleeps alone tonight

After the bars turn out their lights

(Where I am) And send the autos swerving

Into the loneliest evening

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Did y'all see the new Bosch lore that just dropped?

So there's this new side quest involving Experimental Subject Lee, who is now in Metro City. And he tells the player that his client wants to meet you. In turn, you'll get to find out more about Neo Shadaloo* and their bases.

You meet Foo through text at the entrance of Chinatown.

Foo said they heard about you from Lee. And they know that you've been snooping around so they wanted to help you in your search.

A man from Neo Shadaloo is measuring the output of fighters in Metro City. So it's your job to lure that man out and give him a good thrashing. You travel to The Masters Foundation Building, Urban Park, and Edomon until you finally find him at the Haggar Stadium.

After you beat him up, he says this and runs away:

Foo texts you again saying:

[Foo]: Yes, There we go.

[Foo]: That should have gotten the attention of Neo Shadaloo.

[Foo]: I'll arrange for them to escort you to their base.

Going back to Lee, he mentioned that you would be sneaking into their base, but the only thing is you have to be blind folded and you would be unable to heal-up.

This is largely due to you having have a Burlap sack over your head and the staff at Neo Shadaloo blindfold everyone they bring through. I'm assuming they wouldn't want anything on you, that could possibly heal you.

Once you've been picked up and brought to their base, it's revealed that Juri was the one who brought you there. Only because she gets a wad of cash for it. She doesn't care about their 'little treehouse club' because once they revive it, she'll smash it to pieces herself.

You get left alone with the Hanh, a worker, who heard from Foo that you were infiltrating their base. He goes on to say that the remnants of Shadaloo aren't all the same and they're not a monolith.

Foo doesn't care what Neo Shadaloo is up to, so that's why Hanh lets people like you to come in and sneak around. He says you can search for whatever and then make a break for it, but you would have to knock him out, so it won't look suspicious.

Note that when you do, an alarm goes off and you have to fight against the soldiers and cardboard combatants working with Neo Shadaloo.

After doing so, you get to roam freely around the stage that Ed was introduced from, in his trailer.

Off to the sides, you can see chambers filled with a purple glow, Psycho Power, and broken rubble everywhere.

At the center stage, there are reports next to a medical chair that reads:

Report on Test Subject No. 59236

Subject experienced intense pain before fainting after being infused with Psycho Power.

Subject awakened and had violent outbursts. Eventually fainted due to reaching their physical limits.

Subject confirmed to withstand a great deal of Psycho Power. Body was modified to increase its strength.

Subject acclimated to Psycho Power over a number of days and was able to act as a solider in a number of weeks.

Psycho Power dosage was increased each time the subject mentioned "Nayshall" or "Yua"...

The output of power was too strong. The subject was consumed by Psycho Power. Frequency of violent outbursts increased.

Subject was considered not fit for soldier duty, and was demoted to Cardboard Combatant status.

Also, there's a SiRN box that holds confidential documents about Shadaloo's base and the pursuit of a man named Bison.

Confidential Documents

Lord Bison Search Log Targets 1. Resurrected Bison 2. Unharmed Subjects with dormant Psycho Power or Psycho Power residuals

Methods Troops have been dispatched to search for Lord Bison. Searching for residuals through backup info from Psycho Power.

Search Reports America: Not found Mexico: POI info acquired. Observed reviving a dying horse. On the same day, Psycho Power in the base began to react.

France: Not found Egypt: Body located. Head injuries. Nayshall: POI located. Shares some characteristics as Mexico POI.

A man riding a horse, imbued with a purple aura. White hair, tattered clothes but dignified with bold eyes. Thought to be Lord Bison. Contact with search team lost shortly after.

On the same day, residual thoughts were found in the reactivated Psycho Power. Searching for and analysis of residuals has ended. Moving to Restoration phase. Awaiting report on body discovery.

More off to the right side, you can find a piece of scrap paper that we could assume was written by Bosch.

Home...back...strong...for...future...must...withstand...pain...

....Keep...hidden...back...proud...Step...there...do...not...JP...ever...

Pain...what...don't...understa...Let...go...my...soul...comple...mission...

Yua...it...hurt...sorry...brother...sorry...all..for...yshall...

You met back with Lee and gave him the confidential information, which was more than he was expecting. And Lee says he'll give Mr. Foo this information.

Neo Shadaloo* - Me and a couple of other people like @corokoro speculated that Neo-Shadaloo was being retconned by the remnants of Shadaloo. This is seen when Lee, Foo, and Asterisk are referring to Neo-Shadaloo like they're the ones doing all the experimentation and picking people off the streets.

All in all. Justice for my bby Bosch :(

Pictures are from Ansatsuken on Youtube

[jagawriterr]

Personal trainer

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader Warning: tension, dirty thoughts, overweight, self-acceptance Summary: "Flip onto your back" He ordered. You did it without thinking and he sat between your thighs. A/N: The idea for this fanfic came up quite by accident when I was reading about the profession of a personal trainer. I hope you like it. There will be another part ;) A track of Metro Boomin that I used. Masterlist

You just started your adventure in the gym. You were quite a fluffy girl and you were always made fun of and teased for it, especially at school. Now that you are an adult woman, you have stopped worrying about it and focused on yourself and your mental and physical health. However, you always had this one thought in the back of your mind, which made you unable to shake the feeling that everyone would judge you based on your weight, not your character. It annoyed you a lot, especially with men, because you weren't all that ugly.

You were a beautiful woman, and the fact that you had a few extra pounds… who cares. The most important thing for you right now is that you feel good about yourself.

As you entered the gym, you smelled sweat and perfume mixed together. It was always that specific smell that you missed every day. You came here every two days so it didn't interfere with your studies. You were very scared at first. You didn't expect the big welcome or the smiles that greeted you here every time you walked through the gym. You expected more name-calling and laughing at your weight, but that wasn't allowed here. Here everyone respected each other and that was what impressed you the most.

Today you had a session with your personal trainer. You were tired of spending most of your time on the mat doing sit-ups or sit-ups. You wanted to achieve something more, but you needed some help to do so.

You saw him enter the gym through the locker room where you were supposed to do your training today. You met him quite recently, but it felt like you had known him for a long time. That feeling hasn't gone away until now. When you saw him approach you couldn't take your eyes off him. Miguel O'Hara, your private personal trainer. He was wearing baggy green boxer shorts that fell lightly from his narrow hips. His gray T-shirt stretched over the muscles of his stomach and chest. You looked up to see his arm muscles tense with the movement. He greeted a man. He was smiling. You liked his smile the most. His hair was wet, he must have had a shower because when he approached you, you smelled the refreshing scent of citrus, sea foam and soap. You inhaled the scent, closing your eyes for a moment. You've lost your imagination as they watch different scenarios of what Miguel can do with your body today. But you knew he wasn't interested.

He wasn't interested in girls like you, or so you thought, because he rather surrounded himself with girls who were thinner than you. That made you a little sad because you really liked him. Or maybe it was something else. Something you can't get rid of so easily. You felt a slight stab of jealousy at the thought, but you shook it off when he said hello.

"Hi Miguel. What are we going to do today?"

Miguel looked at you with raised eyebrows. He had a clear plan for what he wanted to do with you, and you saw it in his eyes as they flashed a little light. Those sparks turned you on lightly and you felt the heat piercing your lower abdomen and rising higher and higher. It went to your head, dizzy you, just like his smell.

"I think we'll start with stretching first"

Miguel said as he positioned himself right behind you, pulling himself closer, touching your round hips. His touch was so soft. Again you couldn't get rid of those thoughts that kept circling in your head again and again whenever he touched you or you felt his hot breath on your shoulder and neck.

He grabbed your right arm tightly and pulled it against your body, pressing where the shoulder joint meets the shoulder. His hand bordered only on the top that covered your naked skin craving for his touch. You grunted in nervousness when his thumb accidentally brushed your skin as he moved from one hand to the other. You liked stretching your arms the most because you were so close to him then. You could smell his ragged wheezing as he came home from his own practice, his citrus scent reminding you of your holidays in Greece.

The silence between you two was quite awkward. You focused on the radio, which was now playing a nice truck of Metro Boomin. You hummed a few words under your breath, but Miguel didn't seem to notice because he was very focused on what he was doing. His hands around you, you were so small compared to him. He was tall, and whenever you wanted to even look into his eyes or kiss him on the cheek, you had to stand on your toes. You did it once… You kissed him when you finished your first practice. He was filled with pride when you broke out of your comfort zone and did the impossible for your body.

He's so focused on what he's doing. He's focused on your arms, your slightly pale skin filled with tiny veins and stretch marks. On your scar on your left forearm. On your breath, the smell of your perfume. It all made his head spin. He felt separated from the world. Every time you came around, he was happier that hour longer. And he never wanted it to end so quickly.

He pulled away from you and told you to lie down on your stomach. You did it without batting an eyelid. You always obeyed because you knew he was more experienced and knew what he was doing. As you lay down on the mat, he sat on your thighs, gently massaging the muscles along your spine. It gave you an unearthly relief and a feeling of detachment from reality. His touch was stunning.

He made you tense up and arch towards him. You lifted your torso slightly, not too fast and not too high, because that might put more strain on your spine, not help relieve the stress. He felt your warmth as he held your hips tight. They were so fleshy, he wanted to touch them, he wanted to own them, but he couldn't. Waves of naughty thoughts ran through Miguel's brain, the kind that always haunted him when he began your training like this.

"You're such a good girl"

It escaped Miguel's lips as he ran his hand again through the muscles that bordered your spine and pelvis. He felt your shiver as you jumped up slightly. He wasn't thinking clearly at the moment. Rather, it was a lust that he refused to give in to. This would ruin everything between you two, and he knew it. So he finally pulled his hands away, his mind returning. The way he was drunk on your skin, how he was hungry for your body, the lust inside him was growing, and he couldn't give in that easily. He fought it despite all the temptations that awaited him when you came to him for personal training. He got to his feet, looked at your buttocks and breathed heavily.

"Flip onto your back"

He ordered. You did it without thinking and he sat between your thighs. It was the turn of the legs. He grabbed your right leg in a firm grip, bent it at the knee, pulled it to your stomach and pressed his whole body against you. As he did so, he looked intensely into your eyes, never taking his eyes off of them. And you, you were in a completely different world. Your eyes became foggy. You opened your mouth and a few shallow breaths escaped. Miguel brushed against those short breaths caressing his cheeks.

He rolled his eyes over you. He looked down at your firm breasts and a loud sigh, or maybe a moan, escaped his lips. It was hard to tell because he stopped himself, covering his mouth with his hand as he felt his fangs protrude. He couldn't let you see it.

You stared into his beautiful crimson eyes and couldn't help but lose yourself in them. He was so beautiful. He was the most beautiful man you've ever met in your life and he was so close to you. You wanted him to touch your breasts, taste your nipples. You wanted it all for him. You wanted to give yourself completely to him.

He wanted more of it, but unfortunately your time was running out. Once you've finished stretching both legs, it's time for the real workout. Squats and push-ups are also a piece of cake, as Miguel showed you. He wanted to make you realize how much potential lies in your body and you gave it to him. He was proud of the progress you were making.

You saw him cover his mouth with his hand, trying to muffle his groan. You thought it was weird, but the way he kept his life secret made you even more curious. You wanted to know him. You wanted to know what food he likes, what music he listens to, in what position he likes to sleep the most. You wanted to know everything about him.

You hugged him tight as you said goodbye. You were grateful for his valuable advice and couldn't believe how well you were doing under his watchful eye. And you still couldn't get him out of your head. Even in university lectures.

And he…

He Can't wait to train again with you.

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Megamind

So surprisingly, this is one movie I've never actually seen before outside of all of the memes and all of the love people tend to shower upon it, and after finally seeing it for myself... yeah, I totally get why. Megamind is based as fuck, ya'll.

We focus on, of course, Megamind, who is a supervillain who terrorizes Metro City and is opposed by the heroic Metro Man. At least until Megamind seems to successfully defeat Metro Man, leaving Metro City in his hands and quickly leading him into wanting more than just power alone. While in disguse, he ends up striking up a romance with Roxanne, a local reporter, and at the same time, he ends up creating a new opponent for him to fight to curb his growing boredum in the nerdy (incel) Hal, who quickly becomes more of a villain himself than the hero Megamind wanted him to be. So of course, this leads to all sorts of chaos and hijinks, and while you might think that plot sounds too complicated for its own good, I can surprisingly say, it really isn't!

Yeah, all of the moving pieces here work so well together, interwoven into a really compelling story with some pretty solid emotions and some great character moments. It helps that our cast itself is fantastic; Megamind is such a good lead, he's a genuis, but he's also totally socially graceless and is an absolute lovable goober as a result, one who comes to realize that he can be more than the "villain" stereotype he believed he was forced into being from childhood. Roxanne is also a really good leading lady; she's funny and snarky and has really great chemistry with Megamind throughout.

Metro Man doesn't get a ton of screentime, but he's a great parody on the usual superhero tropes, while Minion is the perfect right hand man (fish?) to Megamind in every way. Even our villain, Hal, or as he comes to be called, Titan, works really well here; he's the kind of asshole who just doesn't take no for an answer that we can all justifably hate (but he's also hilarious in his own right).

The animation is also really great here. I find that Dreamworks movies tend to look their best when their characters are highly stylized, and that's what we get a lot of here. We get a lot of really fun action scenes, both in terms of fighting and Megamind's tech. and strangely enough the special effects here (things like fabric and particle effects, etc) really stood out to me, they were all super well done.

The humor is absolutely fantastic here. It's not as adult as some of Dreamworks earlier days, but instead it relies more on who these characters are and how they interact with each other. I think one of my favorite running gags is Megamind obliviously mispronouncing various words (like school and Metro City). There's a bunch of small bits just like that throughout the movie, and they're all so fast paced and well delivered by a really stellar voice cast. The emotions also strike a cord here; there aren't any tearjerker moments, but you really do feel Megamind's growth here as he falls in love and eventually decides to become the hero he never thought he could be.

So yeah, I really enjoyed this one! It's a shame it took me this long to watch it, because it was super enjoyable all the way through. Also amazing that it never really spawned any legit sequels, but I heard its getting a show next year, so idk. I am probs not gonna watch it. Movie good tho, give it a watch if ya haven't.

Overall Rating: 9/10

Verdict: There is no Queen of England

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Next Review (Kung Fu Panda 2)

[sylvies-chen]

sweet nothing sleeping

summary: lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when she’s falling asleep

pairing: tim bradford/lucy chen

word count: short??? i wrote this on notes app don’t ask me to count

warnings: none

a/n: this was written at *many* a 2am but it was my coping mechanism for the chenford breakup so there will be nothing but fluff and happiness here!! but also sorry in advance for any typos. written for my @morganupstead who gave me this idea ages ago and I just took forever to write it LOL

••• ••• ••• •••

cause they said the end is coming

everyone’s up to something

I find myself running home to your

sweet nothings

She’s had a long day.

The list of grievances wracked up in a single shift has been nothing short of astounding. For example: a man no less than an hour into her first stretch of patrol who puked on her. A bar fight gone horribly wrong, and he was drunk out of his mind so when she showed up at the tail end of a swift punch to the drunkard’s gut then… well, you can figure out the rest. Then another man threatened to sue her and the entire LAPD Mid Wilshire division because he refused to be told by a woman to stop ejaculating in public. Nothing but insufferable misdemeanours one after the other, without end. The robbery homicide tailing the end of her shift was the worst. Lucy doesn’t know what’s more horrible: how violent the young married couple’s death was, or how her first thought was that she wished she could have been the detective on a flashy case like this. Knowing she was even capable of putting her career before her compassion and duty left her gutted.

It leaves her now with a bitter aftertaste of guilt and shame. That coupled with the exhaustion and ridicule of her other calls makes for a particularly dreadful combination. Normally she can see Tim in passing and vent to him about things, but he’d been stuck in some new Metro training program all day. Updated protocol or tactical practice, or whatever they wanted to call it. Based on the state she sees Tim in at the end of one of those days, she’d call it something more akin to torture. It also means she had no support system throughout the day whatsoever apart from Nolan’s typical words of encouragement, which were swell but never substantive.

Since Tamara’s moved out, things have been lonely too. She misses her old roommate. If nothing else, at the end of the day Lucy still had a young and vulnerable kid she had to feed and house and clothe. Cooking for them always felt like a backup ritual, a healing sort of constancy, and that’s gone too.

So she heads to Tim’s. Her foot feels like lead on the gas, pushing down hard and inching dangerously closer to speeding the closer she gets to his place. It’s like her heart can feel the distance closing and misses him even more, the weight of her bad day crushing her heart and leaving spider fractures. A magnetic pull is always at its strongest the minute before contact, after all.

For the most part, Lucy’s been able to hold it together. She’s kept things professional, never complained, held her head high. And even as she trembles with anticipation as she knocks on the door, there’s a part of her refusing to let go of that facade.

She knocks at the door, but there’s no answer. Three louder knocks after a minute of waiting, and still nothing. Only after a third round of knocking does she think to use the spare key he’d given her last month.

“Hi,” Lucy calls out as she enters his place. No immediate response, but that’s no matter. She puts the keys down in his key bowl and hangs up her jacket.

The sound of nails skidding against the floor alert her only seconds in advance to Kojo’s presence. He runs up to her full speed but comes to a screeching halt when he reaches her. With his tail still waving fervently, he tries to sit down. (Tim’s trained him to understand that petting and general affection from guests is contingent upon his very handsome sitting.)

“Kojo! Hey there buddy,” she greets him with a soft laugh, like an old friend. Lucy knows by now, even having owned him once, to scratch him behind his ears. The gesture earns her a right good lick from chin to cheek on the left side of her face.

“Yeah, you’re a good boy, aren’t you? You’re a good boy,” she tells him as she keeps petting him. “Now where’s our Tim?”

She looks around half expecting Tim to appear in the hallway, but no sign of him is to be seen anywhere, save for the sound of his television from the next room. Football. Figures.

“Alright, Sir Kojo, King of the Canines,” she declares, patting him on the head and gently urging him forward by the collar, “let’s see what your dad’s watching.”

The two of them make their way to the family room to see what he’s up to. For a football game, Lucy’s already surprised that he isn’t shouting at the TV and jumping up and down like he normally does.

When she enters the room though, she doesn’t see him watching sports. Instead, she sees a passed-out Tim on the couch, snoring in his Rams jersey, remote loosely balanced in his hand. She tilts her head, curiously soaking in the scene.

She should have expected this. He’s been working as hard as she has lately. Though she isn’t entirely sure as to why, he’s been taking on extra shifts and doing double overtime these past two weeks. God knows he didn’t have the steam for a full game of football. Tack on her unexpected company, and she’s sure she’ll tire him out even more.

But the look of him. The television emits a soft glow that flashes hues of green and blue across his stubbled cheekbones. His head hangs back completely crooked on the headrest, and with the positioning of his arms, Tim’s posed like a dramatic renaissance painting. She can’t help but let out a soft giggle under her breath, and then silences into the brightest of smiles she can give after a day like hers, because nothing about this is funny anymore.

Even drooling, his mere presence soothes her. Lying there, entirely disarmed and peaceful. The world and all its troubles just melt away, dissolve in her mind until only a faint trace of what remains lingers like dust. It’s a beautiful haze Lucy can get stuck in, just standing there and watching him. The tight corners of his mouth, his eyes shut gently, the curve of his neck, the way his hair’s a little shorter right now.

Oh hell. Who is she to disrupt him anyways.

She tiptoes over to the couch and carefully extracts the remote from his hand. Turning the television off to avoid more light and sound will definitely help him sleep. Whether Tim’s asleep or awake, it doesn’t matter. Lucy always sleeps better when she’s next to him.

What doesn’t help Tim sleep, apparently, is Kojo. Having followed Lucy into the room, though she will defend him ferociously and say his heart is in the right place, Kojo makes a beeline for the couch and starts pulling at Tim’s jeans with his sharp canine teeth.

“No! No, Kojo! Bad Kojo, stay back,” she pleads in a whisper pushed out through gritted teeth.

Kojo seems to only get more excited— a sort of escalation which Lucy saw all too frequently in her calls from today. Tim jolts awake almost immediately.

“What the-“ he sits up and pulls his jeans away from Kojo, but then looks up at Lucy, still hovering over him guilty as ever. “Lucy?”

“Sorry.” She winces, finally shooing Kojo away enough to give them more space. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to put a blanket over you but Kojo got excited.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her, though he’s still rubbing at his eyes. Lucy’s almost certain he’s still half asleep and hasn’t registered the whole situation before him. “I gave you a key for a reason. What are you doing here?”

“I…” She tries to explain it rationally to him, to go through each bad happening chronologically, to compartmentalize. But then, his voice. His sweet, low, milky, humming voice like the pulse of a heart being soothed into a slower rhythm. It’s so steady, so calm. Something about hearing it unlocks a valve within her. She cracks, as she knew she would when she decided to come, and before she knows it she’s crying.

“Hey, hey,” Tim hushes gently, immediately sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh nothing,” she sobs. “I just had a crappy day. I got puked on and yelled at and all this nonsense which I can normally handle but I don’t even know why I’m… why I’m…”

“Don’t question it too much,” he tells her. “Just let it out.”

“Okay.”

And so she does. For a little bit, she just cries. Surprisingly, it’s not sad. The world isn’t ending, nothing is going to go wrong. There is no other shoe about to drop, no real heartbreak, no evil around. These tears are but a release, and there’s a safety to them.

Once she’s done, she wipes at her tears with her sleeves and sniffles.

“Better?”

“Better,” she says, and can really mean it, genuine smile and all. “Thanks.”

“You never have to thank me.”

She nods, but switches the subject. “You never told me how you’re Metro seminar went today.”

“Eh, it was alright,” he says. “Apart from being exhausted and sore all over, of course. We’ve got some new recruits who are… eager.”

She looks at him with loving suspicion. “You went full Tim 1.0 on them, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he admits with a big huff of relief. “I ran through the drills and protocol updates 36 times because they couldn’t get it right. I didn’t have the heart to just demote them from my team.”

“Tim Bradford not having the heart for a tough love moment? Who are you?” She teases. “Where was this energy 6 years ago?”

“Waiting for you to come along and change it, I guess,” he sighs wistfully. “Always just waiting for you.”

“You’ve gone soft, Sergeant Bradford.” She shakes her head. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, and it only deepens for a moment, then plateauing into a pleasant and chaste hum before release. His arms pull her into his side and her head finds that perfect spot on his chest to nestle into.

The sigh she lets out is almost a song. “This feels good, being here with you. Feeling at peace.”

“Just wait for it.”

“Huh?”

Lucy doesn’t know how Tim saw this coming, but before even asking she’s given an answer. Kojo jumps up onto the couch and steps on Lucy’s lap to lick her and Tim all over their tired, sweaty faces.

“Argh! Kojo, off!” She squeals, though not so gravely that she can’t laugh in the process. Eventually, with enough shooing, Kojo calms down. He doesn’t leave the couch, but lies down next to them, choosing to rest his head on her lap and make happy little sighs.

“Told you.”

“How did you know he would do that?”

Tim shrugs. “He’s happier when you’re around. Like me.”

Lucy smiles, even when pushing Kojo off of them. “I love you.”

Tim doesn’t respond. Too much time passes. A beat, and then another. She gets worried.

“Tim?”

“Oh so you weren’t talking to the dog then?”

She giggles and smacks him playfully across the chest with the back of her hand. “No! Well I do love him, but he drools. And you’re—“

“Human?”

“The love of my life.”

She watches the ripple of those words dance across his face. Tim smiles, his cheeks turning all shades of pink and red. Though he doesn’t seem scared off by her comment, the surprise of it still shows in his raised eyebrows and subsequent lines in his forehead. The way his head tilts, like he can’t quite believe it. But, above all else, the love in his eyes. And that way he’s looking at her now… sometimes she thinks that’s what life’s all about.

“I know I don’t have to be yours,” she continues. “You know, having been married before and all, but—“

“Don’t think for a second you aren’t,” he lets out, almost like the words couldn’t contain themselves. “You are.”

“Good.” Her turn now: the ridiculous blushing, the smile, the love in her eyes. So much joy.

So much fatigue too though. Being around him, getting to decompress like this, it’s making her crash fast. She yawns, and Tim yawns in subconscious response, and out of his own fatigue.

“I should get going,” Lucy tells him, though her face is still nestled into his sweater and has no intention of leaving. “I really only came over to feel some comfort and decompress but I didn’t bring a change of clothes or anything.”

“Mmm,” he groans in disapproval of the idea. “Stay for a bit.”

“No. No, I’ve… gotta…” She sucks in a deep breath, Tim’s woody scent catching onto her nose. Her eyes flutter and her muscles start to release their tension as the hand which isn’t sprawled across Tim’s chest starts to massage the spot behind Kojo’s ear.

“Oh, maybe just a few minutes…” she tells him hesitantly. “But keep me talking, I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Ok. What about the rest of your day? You never finished telling me all the things that had you so upset.”

“Well it started when the air conditioning in the shop nearly exploded on me, and then I immediately took my first call at this dive bar before I could get it fixed. But oh, you won’t believe what this one guy did…”

Lucy goes on and on, her eyes growing heavy and her voice growing layers of drowsy rasp, fighting sleep to tell all her stories of woe. The drunkards, the sexist pigs, the violence. Part of her registers Tim’s lack of response or reaction as she tells her stories. Time passes. She talks, and he listens.

“I think it’s better not to dwell on it though,” she concludes eventually. “I’ve felt all I can feel about it for one day. And anyways I… I can barely remember my own anguish now. It feels so far aw—“

She looks up to see him passed out, his breathing a low rumble that threatens snoring. The soft fur under her other hand feels alarmingly still as well, until she looks to the other side and sees Kojo sleeping on her lap.

So much for leaving. She supposes that’s exactly how she wants things anyway. The heartbeats of these two precious boys at the tips of her fingers, nestled right next to hers. Giving her strength, steadying her scattered mind. Under these dim lights and warm blankets and beloved company, she wouldn’t dare move a muscle.

“Oh hell, who was I kidding,” she whispers to him. “I was always going to end up here anyways. With you.”

She rests her head on his chest once more. The last thing she remembers is the rise and fall of Tim’s chest against her hand and the feel of Kojo’s soft fur against her other.

This isn’t a big moment. No fireworks, no heartfelt confessions, no twirls or kisses in the rain. But even as the day ends and the lights go out, she feels love where it dwells best: in a quiet room. And it remains that Lucy has never been so happy to have fallen in love as she is when she’s falling asleep.

[landofadonises]

Rush-Hour Commute - The Flexington Law Firm

In Flexington, rush-hour traffic only existed because of one thing--the alpha men that worked in the most successful law firm in the state. No one knew what went on in those courtrooms or case dealings, but everyone knew that you'd end up seeing some of them shirtless, pantsless, tattered clothing hanging off their hulking frames, by the time noon passed.

The men always knew how to clean up, though, and ended up heading home in whatever clothes they had left after their... sessions? Debates? No one really knew. All people knew is that they needed to be on those subways, metros, and trains, by 5:04pm so they had a chance of sitting aside, or even being sat on, by these Adonises.

It ended up becoming unspoken culture that however much clothing these men stepped into these train carts in was the indicator of just how much they'd allow done to them. If they only busted out of their shirt, probably take it easy--they're finishing up business calls and might not want to be interrupted. No pants? They're probably down to get massaged, probably unbutton their dress shirts to let people suck at their huge, meaty pecs. ...Both? We can only infer based on evidence after the fact that the train carts become full-on worship sessions, and the only one walking out of there without some kind of limp or stupor is the man of the hour himself.

[acrayday]

they are eepy i did the thing smile, thanks to @readingrobin for the idea and base! image id and base under the cut!

[start image IDs]  base; a foto of 2 people in a train / metro . they are sitting in the accessible seat, both are asleep, on sitting with their legs to the walkway in the vehicle . the other has their legs over the plastic barrier and his arm over the back of the seat next to them. they are seemingly not leaning on the person under them. digital drawing; Hobie Brown also known as ‘spiderpunk’ and Pavitr  Prabhakar, the spiderman from ‘Spider-man; India. the two are their alternate version from the Spider-man; across the spiderverse. they are set in the same image as the base foto, hobie as the first person sitting down and Pavitr as the person hanging over the other. they both have their masks off as they are in their spider-man suits. [image IDs end]