#but i would commit some low level crimes for him for sure

[maximura]

[dragonmonstermilk]

Caught by the big bad wolf

Charcaters: Hoolay x guard!Reader

tw: (implied) fem!reader, (very much) size difference, degrading and praising, knot, pet names (human), (implied) semi-public sex, Hoolay is chained up, (kinda) corruption kink, belly bulge, (lot of) porn with plot, Hoolay's past (mentions of violence, abuse and death), manipulation, (slightly) dubcon, (if you squint) overstimulation, squirt

OK....idk if any of y'all have played the new patch of honkai:star rail but there are these new enemies (Borisins) who are werewolf and they are so hot, esp Hoolay (HE SO DAMN BIG SO..HOW COULDN'T I WRITE ABOUT HIM) !!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

It passed a week since you were transferred to patrol the lower level of the Shackiling Prison. To be honest you were scared, and you had all the right to be it. The last floor was very dangerous, not because it was so dark you could barely see your shadow, even if there where a few lamps scattered here and there on the wall. You were scared because locked up there are the most dangerous individuals who committed serious crimes. These were forced to be imprisoned for all eternity while being muzzled, chained up, tortured and, if the sins they committed where more than gravious to be where they where, they would be starved. Of course, whoever received this punishment would be dead in a few weeks. Or, at least, that's what the superiors said to the novice guards.

As you reached down, taking a bit of time, you finally arrived. Before starting to patrol you take a deep breath, clutching your weapon. Steps echoed through the big hallways, locking everywhere to make sure that everything was good. You arrived at the most perilous zone: the right side of the cells. Here there was only a monster, the most dangerous in all Xianzhou, Hoolay. Your general advised you to be very careful around him, since he was quite hungry from all of the decades who passed without eating.

You reminisce the story of Hoolay, told you and to your fellow companions from your general. Hoolay is an abomination of Abundace and Lord of Borisins. He was held accountable for numerous acts of invasions, associated war crimes, and for long-term enslavement of Foxians and utilizing their blood for alchemical purposes. Hoolay, after being sentenced was transferred to the Shackiling Prison. The terms of his imprisonment was that he was to be subjected to the punishment of the Forest of Swords and never be pardoned. While the punishment was meant to be fatal and Hoolay was not given any food, he was somehow able to survive for hundreds of years without sustenance while the wounds inflicted by the Forest of Swords would simply restore themselves.

You take a few big breaths before opening the cell and going inside.There he is. Luckily he's all chained up, but better to keep a safe distance. As you try to keep yourself as far away as possible you look at Hoolay, who didn't seem to have noticed your presence. As a borisin, Hoolay is broad and lean, with powerful jaws and neck muscles. He has well-developed canine teeth, beast-like ears on top of his heads, and sharp claws on his hands and feet. Seeying his stance you are affascinated and intrigued. You squeal in surpirese as a sudden low voice speaks to you.

"Are you new here, human?" the chains jingles as Hoolay looks down at you. His very big figure towering over your much smaller one.

"Y-yes, but why would you ask" your voice trembling as you fear he could snap free from the chains (totally impossible, but you never know, no?).

Hoolay scoffs. His chains moving again.

"Come closer, human" his deep voice makes you feel something inside. Not wanting to make him angry than he could be possibly be, you do as he says, still being some metres away from him. He scoffs again, this time almost as if he is satisfied and amused. "Are you that afraid of me, human?" his voice roaring in the big cell. What could you answer him? Of course you were scared of him! He's so big, towering all over you. He could kill you just with his hand!

Hoolay didn't really expect an answer for you, but something was moving inside his head. He smirked, the scarce lighting reveling his big and sharp teeths. "Human" Hoolay stops before continuing "You don't need to be afraid of me. Come closer and I'll shall answer every question you have for me". You were confused. Why some big prisoner monster would ask you to make him some questions?

You ponder for a few moments. Hoolay waiting for an answer. "I don't want to ask you any questions", your tone firm and, again, Hoolay smirks. Suddenly a puppy like cry, like someone stepped on a puppy's tail. You look at Hoolay, panicked.

"Are you alright?! What happened?" you try to check if something is gone into his leg paws, but you could barely see. As panicked as you are, Hoolay smirks again, everything going according to his plan. "My hand! My hand hurt!" he cries out again, holding back a laugh. You are so naive.

You nod, and mumbling a few sorries you climb up is toned body, feeling his muscles under you. You slighty blush and brush off whatever you feeling with a coff. As you're on Hoolay biceps, he licks his face, your good smell making him hard, as well as the view of your back. You reach for the hanging chain, loosen it enough to free Hoolay's hand. As soon as his hand is free he laughs. Before you could even ask, he takes you in his hand, gently squeezing you.

"W-what" a puzzle look on your face.

"Foolish human. How could you believe that me, Hoolay Lord of Borisins, could get easily hurt?" his voice echoing in the cell, gently squeezing your tiny body. "You don't imagine how I'm so hungry"

His tone was lower than before and you where squirming in his hand as every now and then he squeezed your little body. You wanted to scream but your voice was blocked in your throat. Tears were forming in your eyes as you thought that was your end. What didn't you expect tho was that Hoolay wasn't hungry for food, but he was hungry for sex. It's been decades since he had a mate and he was so pent up that your scent drove him crazy.

With one of his long and sharp claws, he cut off your clothes. His big face sniffing your body. He groaned and opened his hand. His longue and big tongue licking all over you and then arriving at your sensitive spot. You arched your back, your body trembling from the pleasure he was giving you. "N-no, please" you cried out as his tongue was already overstimulating you. What made you come so soon was that he sucked your little bud mixing it with his tongue. His groans? Making so many vibrations that had you coming on him quickly.

"You taste so good, human. I can't wait to fuck you with my cock and knot you. You're going to be my mate, forever"

"Forever?!" You were shocked. A borisin, the LORD of borising wanting YOU to be his mate?! That is crazy, that's absolutely no sense. You pinch yourself a dew times, believing you are dreaming. Hoolay chuckled.

"Poor little human, can't believe I'm serious? Then I'll show it right now". His laugh echoed in the cell, the weak lighting making in evidence the most dangerous traits of him. As Hoolay put you on his (enourmous) cock you squealed as you clenched. Hoolay looked down at you, amused by every reaction you had. Without thinking you began to grind your hips on him, muffling your moans. You could feel his leaky tip under you, how his cock throbbed more and more as you moved your hips. "That's it, yes", Hoolay groaned as his large paw grabbed your hips, moving you faster. "What a greedy human you are". You whined at his words as you came on him for the second time. But you wanted more, even if you're were feeling all dizzy and overstimulated but your hole wanted more, wanted to feel that enormous cock inside you.

You looked up at Hoolay with puppy eyes, that smirk reappiring once again in his face. No words needed that Hoolay entered your hole, the stretch made your hips jerks away from his but, keeping his hand on you, he made you come back to his cock. The pain of stretch was giving you pleasure and your brain was completely turned off as you felt him inside you, forming a visible belly bulge. Hoolay sighed of relief, finally his cock could feel some warm walls after decades of not touching it and not having someone to help him with his heat.

"Such a good human" he groaned as his hips move forth and back, your walls sucking him deeper and deeper as you moaned like the little slut you are. "Good, taking my big cock so good for your lord" you panted and whined while nodding, your hand moving on the belly bulge. As Hoolay used his hand to stimulate more your already sensitive area, you felt a strange sensation, one you never proved even while masturbating. "A-ah, nhhgg, Hoolay! Cumming, I'm cumming!". Squirt gushed all over you and Hoolay. As you squirted you felt something stretching you even more.

"Be good a good slutty human and take my knot".

It was so big! You couldn't help but cream around his cock, your back arching as his seed spurted inside you, making your belly all swollen. The pleasure and pain mixed together so good that for a moment you saw black before coming to your senses. At that time, Hoolay was still inside you, waiting for his knot to be gone (that would take a while, though). You didn't heard anything from him so you just assumed he fell asleep. Well, certainly you would have come more often to visit Hoolay and keep him company.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

[kairiscorner]

the confounding case of dr. o'hara. — miguel o'hara x gnreader

✧ summary: your first ever real patient out in the field as a criminal psychologist, and it's the recently caught supervillain, dr. miguel o'hara; a disgraced genius geneticist that supposedly went insane after a freak accident that not only worsened his hunger for rapture, but also turned him into a horrifying spider mutant. you had to be wary around him, anything you could tell him could make him try something risky... but what he wants with you now that he's gotten a whiff of you and your scent is something far more than just risky... he wants your life, but not to take it, but rather, for you to willingly submit yourself to him and only him. ✧ pairing: miguel o'hara x criminal psychologist!reader ✧ genre: (honestly idk, it's not fully fluff but not fully angst nor comfort either ... ? tis just a guilty pleasure fic ig !) ✧ author's note: this is inspired by the lovely kimmy's art on twt !! I'M SORRY, IDK MUCH ABOUT THE DETAILS ON DR JEKYLL AND MR HYDE, I DIDN'T WANNA BUTCHER ANYTHING AND I HOPE I DIDN'T !! i mixed some traits between joker, gomez addams, and some elements of the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde ! ... i hope y'all like this :'DDD AND I'M SO SORRY FOR THE SHITTY SPANISH FGIRUFBUIRBIURTB google translate is all i got .......

i. the scent of honey and a vision of an angel.

pages and leaflets of the mountains of cases against this man successfully made you shiver at the sound of his name–you couldn't believe just how little remorse he had for every crime he had ever committed written down in these records, it was like being in the scenes of a true crime documentary; it didn't feel real that you were going to speak to the very man himself and see just why he committed all those crimes... and why he could only smile at the thought of wreaking so much havoc. you took in a deep breath and walked into the hall where his cell was in, taking cautious steps as you heard the leaking of pipes and the dripping of water accumulating into puddles the further down the hall you entered.

you had no idea why, as a rookie, your first patient would have to be a criminal mastermind—but you needed all the experience you could get, not many people in your field at your level of expertise get the chance to talk to high-profile criminals like him; and you were far more professional and knowledgeable at your job compared to your colleagues in the academy; surely this wouldn't be too bad... right? well, the minute you saw the light coming from his cell, you were greeted to the sight of a hunched over man, sitting quietly at the center of the room with his back turned to the glass in front of you. you gently tapped at the glass, but that didn't catch his attention. "i know you can hear me." you spoke as you tried to get him to turn around again, but he still didn't budge. you rolled your eyes and sat down on a chair across from his cell; preparing to ask him questions that he probably won't even answer.

you introduced yourself as a freshly graduated criminal psychologist from nueva york university, you hoped he would cooperate with you and give you reasons as to why he committed his crimes, explaining to him that he could get a much more lenient punishment if he could explain his side of the story as to why such a once well-respected man had spiraled into such a morbid life of crime. you heard a low chuckle rumble from the other side of the glass, and that low rumble became more audible, all the way until he was cackling loudly; the sounds reverberating throughout the rubber-padded white walls and rang throughout the glass. the cackling soon faltered out and ceased, you felt the hairs on your body stand up as you heard every octave of his maniacal laughter–you'd think that years of case studies and witnessing firsthand from your mentors that dealing with people like him wouldn't be too challenging or disturbing, but this experience proved you to be wrong, so terribly wrong.

as the laughter died down, the corner of the man's smile showed from behind his long, shaggy unkempt wispy hair; and when he turned around to face you, you saw that his eyes were a dark shade, they were bloodshot and crimson, they were deathly, and you knew he was far more dangerous than any other criminal could contend with. the man grimaced and slowly creeped his head around over his shoulder to get a good look at you. his body followed suit and gradually turned to face you, the brown restraints on his white, yet stained, straightjacket made him look both pitiful and dangerous all at once. suddenly, the man slowly got up and wobbled over to you–it was as though he had gone days, maybe weeks, without walking; could he have stayed in that position this whole time before you came to see him?

the man's gaze was bearing into your own, his eyes not leaving yours as his grimace widened; the corners of his smile reaching his ears as he chuckled every now and then in a delusional daze. his chin and cheeks were dotted with stubbles and hints of fuzz and a beard–he had gone days without shaving, either, it seemed. he pressed his forehead against the glass and stared down at you, and only then were you able to understand how big he was; about 200 centimeters and counting, and yet, he was able to be restrained... he was frightening, and he knew you thought that of him.

"...miel..." the sound escaped his lips, the first word he spoke in a long while. you looked up at him in fear and gulped, writing down what you heard. "...w-what?" you asked him, hoping he'd repeat the word. the man's grin widened creepily as he slowly opened his mouth to speak again, and a dribble of saliva dripped down his chin as he stared at you, hungrily, like a starved predator cornering its prey. "miel, mi cariño, it's... honey, sweet as... shocking honey, making me hungry..." he murmured out, hid constant breathing fogging up the glass. you moved your chair back a little and cleared your throat, making miguel press his face against the glass even further as you moved away from him. he thumped his forehead against the glass, making you jolt a little and look at him. he stared at you from underneath his eyelashes and smirked widely.

"don't... don't escape me, mi tesoro... c'mon, it's been... too damn long since i've had such a pretty little thing come here and look so shocking ravishing–" he gushed and mumbled as his breath quickened and his smile got even wider, but seeing as how uncomfortable and tense he made you, he, surprisingly, quit that and moved away a little from the glass. he hung his head in what appeared to be frustration, and mumbled in a hused tone, "ah, quiero arrancarte esa blusa... but i can tell..." he whispered as he sat down closely to the glass and leaned his head forward, looking at you with a sly grin. "you don't like men who are that straightforward, do you?" he asked you as he watched every little move and twitch your body made, sinking in all the details about you as he muttered to himself, twitching as well at your little responsive gestures that said more than words ever could help you articulate the feelings he was giving you right then and there.

he chuckled as he watched you restlessly fidget in your seat, darting your gaze away from him as much as you could. "you're so cute, mi amor... keep that up and i might just really break out of here, i finally have a reason to now that your pretty little face showed up." he said, gazing at you all... lovingly as he smiled the more you stuttered out the next thing you wanted to say. "...there is... literally nothing you'll get out of smooth talking me." you said defiantly as miguel chuckled aloud again, rocking himself back and forth in ecstasy. "you're not only cute, smart, and snarky, but a bad liar too... eso me excita, sabes?" he teased you as he stuck his tongue out, a couple of smuggled piercings on the tip of his tongue gleamed as he did so, making you a little more tense as before. he hummed to himself as he looked at you with an even more sultry, desperate look on his angled face. "you're like an angel... you'll be known as mi angel from now on, okay, mi ángel? keep visiting me more often, mi ángel, i need to be reminded miracles can happen... even to scum like me." he whispered as you looked away from him, making him whimper and beg for you to look at him in spanish and english.

"por favor no me hagas esperar… mírame, mi ángel..." he pleaded with you as he got on his knees and pouted, showing off his lower lip as he gave you such big, sad eyes that tried to convince you to look his way. though he tried to appear less menacing and pathetic, you knew this was just a front of his to get you to do something for him, maybe to get him out? to take his place for him? to... oh, you couldn't even jump to that conclusion, because there's no way that—

"i desperately need you, mi ángel... please, look my way, my little angel... come closer, i need to smell your... your honey-like scent again, it drives me crazy, crazy with love, mi ángel, you can't even imagine..." he begged of you, leaning his forehead against the glass again, sobbing audibly as you sighed. would you look him for a second time? would you kindly let him get a whiff of you again and crave for you? he would never hurt you if you did, of course not; angels aren't meant to be hurt, and you, his darling little angel, would never be hurt around him... he'll do everything to make sure you won't be, and no restraints will ever hold him back from getting his strong, toned arms around your beautiful body, around his little angel, once and for all.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce @oxrchd

[108garys]

Workaholic

For Hector's birthday I am again returning to "the perfect shot" au, in which Hector remains with the FBI long enough to be given a new task, watching Charlie in the aftermath of his involvement in hoa after his move to America. File this under me writing Hector in a way that makes me want to hit him with a news paper, Charlie too but he has a better excuse so yeah, Heclie but Hector literally trips over the finish line, straight up "it's not stalking if I get paid for it" and a lot of poor Charlie, I forgive your life choices because the way you are in this polished up wip is certainly not as bad as you are in writings I've done while this was on a shelf

Hope y'all enjoy 💕

May 31st, 2004

Special Agent Hector Munday had always been a bit of a workaholic. Diligently he examines every seemingly insignificant detail of a given case. His therapist claimed it was obsessive but how can it be a flaw when doing so took dangerous criminals off the street? Hector's work was very important and it deserved nothing less than his full attention…

In mid 03' he was assigned a very different task, something a little more low stress than he was used to but the stakes were no less important… He would not be tracking down a dangerous criminal and bringing them to justice, in fact the tracking was less seeking and more stalking for he'd know the man's location since day one- Not that Hector was stalking him! …it was his job to keep tabs on the aspiring director, lest he reveal classified information.

Charlie Lonnit, 30, was his assignment, the London born documentarian had been in the states for just under a year now, pursuing his dreams of make a name for himself in the industry but struggling to make necessary connections in a new place… The Brit was a workaholic too, Hector observed. It was the anniversary of Lonnit's highly classified time in Iraq. He had been coming to this bar more frequently in the lead up and Munday couldn't risk a drunken error changing the nature of his task. Charlie wasn't a dangerous man by any means but he carried dangerous secrets that must stay buried…Even if he must also be put in the ground in the process…

Hector found himself slowly sipping what had now become a regular order in his quiet corner of an unremarkable bar as he discreetly kept an eye on Charlie, not Charles, he hated being called that, over at the bar… Some may argue that his research went beyond what was strictly necessary but as far as Agent Munday was concerned the more he knew the easier it would be to catch subtle changes in behavior.

Hector was on edge watching some random sleeze getting a little too invasive for his liking, usually he wouldn't think Charlie was the type to go for that but these are unusual times… he'd be lying if he denied a level of possessiveness over the idea of him going home with the guy but for all he knows the combined factors could prompt Lonnit into committing a serious crime. Special Agent Munday was a professional after all.

So when the man's unwelcome touch travels a little too far his liking, Hector did something very stupid… He found himself approaching, "Is this guy bothering you?" He said with the casual air of an uninformed bystander, having convinced himself of the other man's threat, "What the fuck do you want?" The other man looked up, in disbelief at his audacity until Hector, against his better judgement, handed off just enough cash to turn the man's head. "I'm sure you have better places to be." he confidently asserts and the man complies with an air of confusion. Hector takes the now empty seat and Charlie stares at him having seen this stranger pay off the other guy. Taking a moment to consider his next move…

Hector had heard Charlie's voice uncountable times… on tapes, audio of secret things where he's trying to maintain his composure, trying to explain himself near tears as he's given an ultimatum… warmth as he calls his mother at a specific time that works for the difference in timezone, at least twice a week, his current tone was somewhere in the middle, a certain level of polite caution. "You're a regular here aren't you?" as far as Charlie knew, Hector had been in here everytime he's visited the less than stellar establishment. "It's a stone's throw from my place, it's as good as any." it wasn't an out right lie but Hector wouldn't come here willingly without a reason.

Charlie adjusted his glasses looking him over and Hector's skin felt like static under the unexpected attention, suddenly regretful now that he was no longer fixated on the possibility of the other man… he should excuse himself and continue doing his job at the appropriate distance, but… Hector was diligent about his work and looking into his eyes… The way his own face looked reflected across the younger man's glasses.

He had Charlie's full attention.

He not so reluctantly stayed put, he couldn't help it… listening to him speak like he had for the past year. He tried to listen more than he spoke, the more he speaks the more he'd risk mentioning something he shouldn't… Eventually Charlie got onto the subject of his documentarian dreams and his fascination with serial killers and what makes them tic, he said he wasn't sure why he felt drawn to true crime. It was a coping mechanism after what he faced in Iraq, he needed to rationalize the darker parts of the world to feel safe, it made sense to Hector even if Charlie didn't do it consciously…

He couldn't turn his brain off, trying to analyse every little detail, Charlie leaned closer to him, Hector's dark eyes looked predatory reflected in Charlie's soft blue ones… His focus so singular that he'd barely noticed that he'd allowed his hand to wonder, far past the boundaries of what a complete stranger should dare. he quickly withdrew it not wanting to make Charlie uncomfortable but-

Charlie grabbed his hand, Hector felt like the young man just didn't want to be alone, everyone else who knew what he'd been through was far away… Everyone he could confide in was involved in a conspiracy to keep that hurt buried… They sat in silence for beat, before Charlie kissed him. Hector pulled back in surprise before he could process the sudden contact, Charlie's face flushed bright with embarrassment. His eyes wide, likely wondering how he had misread the previous touch. "I- I'm so-" sorry? Hector opened his mouth to explain but Charlie rushed out before he could. What was he thinking!? Hector payed for both their drinks before following, his stupidity is getting expensive.

He found him out front, trying to light a smoke, becoming visibly upset as his lighter refused to cooperate. Charlie turned with the cigarette between his lips, the redness in his face betraying him. Hector fishes his lighter out of his pocket stepping closer, he lit up his own before sharing the flame with the younger man. Charlie looked away, relaxing slightly as smoke escaped into the night…

Hector ignored that it was entirely inappropriate to know that although it wasn't when he started smoking, his trauma related to his time as a military journalist had solidified his habit into something he depended on…

The silence stretches awkwardly, it begins to rain…

He felt like he should explain but his own reaction was much more of a mystery than Charlie's, all neat and categorized through careful observation. He felt words would fail him, that even if Charlie really did just want a distraction he could do that… He approaches again, much more deliberately, with clarity of purpose…

He was passionate about his work.

-- June 1st, 2004

Hector's therapist had advised against taking his work home, it was unhealthy she said, but as Charlie's form rose and fell in soft sleep he knew she was wrong… Charlie had slept with a light on every night since his trip to hell, as had all the survivors, Hector left his bedside lamp on hoping Charlie wouldn't think too much about it.

This was uncharted territory, learning so much that had previously been beyond his reach… The way Charlie's skin felt, how he clung to him like he's the only thing between him and that place Hector only knew through reports… Very many other things… New information, mentally filed away. It was… educational.

Hector's hand ran over long inhuman claw marks that scarred Charlie's hip, imaging what it must have been like, how terrifying those creatures must have been… He refrains from sliding any further as Charlie began to stir, slowly rolling over to look at him. He smiles sleepily, accepting as Hector offers to make him coffee.

A shortly after Hector is again in his head, wondering if things will go back the way they were now that his… Now that Lonnit had gotten through the anniversary, they should. It could never work. He distracted himself with the task at hand, listening to the sound of the shower down the hall, he turns on the radio to the classical station to distract himself. He wouldn't bring it up first, that would make him look like an ass… What the hell is wrong with him!?-

"I hope you don't mind, my stuffs still in the dryer." Hector turns to Charlie, wearing one of his shirts… He absentmindedly handed over a cup of coffee… It was far too large, hanging off him in a way that- Hector looked away, grabbing his own mug and drinking, before he turned back with a smile. "No no, it's fine, it was my fault you got wet in the first place." Charlie smirks, Hector clears his throat, trying not to blow his cover… Or look like an actual idiot. "So, what's with the scar?" he sees Charlie's expression fall, clearly blindsighted despite the obvious likelihood that it would come up, Hector quickly spoke up again. "I understand if it's too sensitive a subject." Charlie nods, relived, looking away. "Yeah." he says drinking his coffee, still greatly affected by what he'd been through.

He was supposed to say he'd had a close call on a hiking trail a few years back… That was the 'official' story given to him but this was the first time he's actually been in a situation where it'd come up.

Hector retroactively decided this was a test… He couldn't have Charlie floundering and potentially slipping up with other men, it was a matter of confidentiality… He looks at him, at the way the morning sun hits his face just right, his glasses framing his features perfectly… He wanted to see him wearing more of his clothes, wanted to be in on the secret irony that the man who had survived vampires loved the feeling of his teeth… Wanted to feel his warmth and leave more marks on him…

He moved to grab things from his pantry, barely thinking about it as he begins to make breakfast to prolong the time Charlie stayed in his presence, thinking of the right words to convince him to do this again. It would be much more efficient to keep tabs on him this way…

After all, Hector Munday was a workaholic and Charlie Lonnit was his job.

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @tinynightmarewoman

@eframschweigersskincells @aydeenchan @mybrainrotforreal @unhingedlesbear

@kindheartedgummybears @blubary

I thought it was fun to cross out Information hector definitely shouldn't know, like its a denial of his actual behaviour, I hope it's as fun to read lol

[vickyvicarious]

"Why not go on?" I asked. She shook her head, and, coming back, sat down in her place. Then, looking at me with open eyes, as of one waked from sleep, she said simply:— "I cannot!" and remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what she could not, none of those that we dreaded could. Though there might be danger to her body, yet her soul was safe!

Somehow, I had thought last year that Van Helsing was bunking down with Mina inside the wafer circle. But it doesn't seem that he is, since here he mentions the fire being outside of it, and later on when they're being circled by the vampire ladies, he attributes his own safety to the holy wafer he is holding up at them, and Mina's to the circle.

This is interesting on a couple of levels, because on the one hand it points pretty definitively towards him not feeling safe resting next to her. It makes me feel like he really strongly suspects he might've been drunk from the night before, or at least that he fears she might do so tonight. And yet, he is also willing to give her all the surefire protection, and rely on only a wafer in the hand for himself. He didn't even make himself a separate circle. I suspect his supply is finally running low and he wants to make sure he has enough for the job in the morning/anything that might have to be done with Dracula, so he's trying to save the rest. That means that him giving up some of his finite supply is a real sacrifice, one which again places her own safety over his own. He's holding true to his promise to protect her to the fullest extent of his abilities, regardless of the risk to himself. If he faltered in his vigilance during the night, he could have fallen prey to the vampire women.

EDIT: disregard the above paragraph, literally right after posting I noticed that he does (and Mina also) actually mention he is in the circle too, haha. Guess I had reason for thinking that before, and this was more a brainfart moment. But actually that raises the question of how much is he trusting her, here. I still feel like he fears her a lot at this point but even after he sees she cannot cross the line he stays within it with her, which is a big show of deliberate trust in a way. Maybe his supply is running low so he doesn't know if he has enough for a second circle, but still. He's choosing to believe in her and to take the best interpretation of her reaction here.

Of course, there's also the risk of wolves for both of them. But he says he is happy because her soul will be safe, even if Mina could be killed by wolves. Is he taking comfort that the vampire women can't get to her? Well, that seems to be the case, but at the same time, it doesn't make much sense because Van Helsing is the one who has repeatedly said Mina is doomed to turn when she dies regardless of what kills her at this point. So I don't really think that's it. I think it's that, not only can the vampire women (or Van Helsing if they turn him, or even Dracula if he returns) not get to her, but also if Mina dies for any reason, if she finishes turning, she can't leave. She'll remain in the circle, and he will at least save her soul from the crimes it would commit as a vampire, by holding her in place and preventing her from ever committing them. None of the other vampires can approach so they can't let her out. The only way she gets out is if someone human helps her (and Van Helsing is the only one around for miles), or if she regains enough humanity to do so on her own (which will happen if they kill Dracula as planned).

Her reaction to the vampire women gives him hope that it's really not too late for her, and later on he takes comfort in her pale and ill appearance, but it kinda seems like he was planning for ways to minimize the harm to her soul even in a worst-case scenario.

[a-sparrows-melody]

Mary On A Cross

"Why?" his voice rasps, low and brittle, as if a strong gust of wind can break him now. He is kneeling on the ground, shaking and trembling. His ragged and torn robes are only a reminder of what had once been.

"Why?" he asks me again, when I remain passive. His expression now mirrors what I felt inside, disgust and fury and pity. The wind picks up speed, and his brown hair blows haphazardly around his face, caked with mud and sweat. His ivory-coloured, linen robes are dirty and full of holes.

I have him at my mercy, yet his brown eyes - so full of fractured hopes and emotions - hold level with my own, as if impertinence will help him this time. His expression changes as fast as the wind switches directions. He is smug now, his chapped lips ticking up a bit at the corner. I am anxious, so anxious, but I don't dare to show it on my face, knowing this is the reaction he is looking for.

"Would you kill me? Would you kill me?" He mocks me, his eyes searching my face for a chink in the armour, any sort of affirmation. I had never been known as a killer, a murderer. His brown eyes stare at me, unblinking and confident - though I know he knows his time has come.

And now I doubt whether he is at my mercy or I am at his.

My arms are growing heavy, the adrenaline is wearing off. The battle exhaustion is catching up with me and the cut on my side is throbbing painfully, the blood trickling down. I feel woozy now. I have to make a decision fast.

I need all I have in me to try to forget that I love him, but I can't. I need to finish this now. Before I lose my nerve. Before either he fulfills the prophecy, or I do.

"So weak. Look at you," he chuckles mirthlessly, breathlessly.

Finally, I speak.

"Your beauty never, ever scared me," my voice is wobbly and cracking at the end and I want to cry right now.

And then I plunge the sword into where his heart should be, while his face is pulled up in a tiny smile as if he knew this would happen.

What have I done?

"Only for you, my love," he croaks out as he finally gives up. His eyes never leave mine. There is an obnoxious ringing in my ears and I am hyperaware of all my wounds. My vision is zooming in and out and I cannot focus. Not now, not now, not now.

It's too late. I fall to the ground, my knees banging painfully (although everything is painful now). I don't see the way he smiles at me, genuine and unwavering. I don't see the way his crimson blood stains his ivory robes, spreading like an infection. I don't see the way his eyes searched for mine one last time.

I press my lips against his chapped ones, eyes shut so tight, looking for that little jolt of life, hoping he would know that I love him, I love him, I love him so much that when I killed him, I killed a part of myself so deeply intertwined with mine that the pain would be equivalent to ripping my organs out one by one. I pull away, confused and bloodied. His expression doesn't change. His body is still warm.

It doesn't quite register, what I've done. I am living in a haze, and deluding myself into thinking his brown eyes still hold some emotion, no matter how glassy and inanimate they are. That his smile is private and only for me.

It doesn't quite register until I see my friends across the barren ground, stained with blood as I am, knotted, mangled hair and ripped clothes like mine, waving at me and smiling as if I hadn't just committed a sin.

The grief washes over me, the haze around my brain is turning red, cement is filling around my lungs and I can't breathe knowing the full extent of my crime. I cannot live without him. I cannot.

But I know what to do. This is the only thing I am sure of.

I pull the sword out by it's jeweled hilt, and it comes with a sickening sound, dripping blood and gooey organs. His face remains the same, his smile is horrific. I love him.

I press the point of the weapon to my chest (which stings a bit) and stare at my friends, and watch their expression turn to horror. One of them runs towards me, but I can't make out who because my eyes are filled with tears now.

I turn away. "Your beauty never, ever scared me," I whisper to him, too tired to speak, even though I know he can't hear me.

The pain is barely there as I press the sword into my chest.

And in my last moments, when I am unsure of whether I alive or dead, I can see him, his face lit up with happiness and colors and love for me. He is running towards me, and now he is holding me close against his warm chest, whispering that we are okay and he loves me, and it is all I can do to not bawl like a baby with the shock and pain of it all.

Death comes toward me with its black robes billowing, and I welcome it like an old friend.

-X-

Prompt was "Your beauty never ever scared me" from Mary on a Cross (the song). It's very cliche, I am quite aware, but let me have my something sweet. If you didn't understand what the hell I just wrote (I don't blame you, I barely understand either), the hero kills the villain (who always knew the hero would kill him) and then kills himself because they are secretly in love and are dating and this is all just one big misunderstanding that led to a war.

In an attempt to engage with you readers more, what's your comfort ship?

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 12 Self harm, Sacrifice, Character death

TW/CW: Fights, punches, mockery, intimate whumper, chin tilt, low paintolerance whumpee, scared whumpee, implied kidnapping Word count: 872

The young hero approached him carefully. Almost in awe. He disliked it. It’s just his power. Aside from that he was just like them. Just now he was on his way to eat the shitty food from the agency’s cafeteria.

“Superhero! There’s a message from ‘control’ for you!”

“From Control?”, he asked. Looks like there would be no lunch today.

“Yeah. Sounded pretty urgent.”, hero panted out.

Okay so it wasn’t an internal conflict. Definitely no lunch. “Got it. Thanks Kai.”

The boy looked confused, as if he was genuinely surprised he knew his name.

Superhero stood there for a few more awkward moments and then turned around and walked towards control. By now he knew the labyrinth-like halls of the agency by heart. Five minutes later he knocked on the slick metal door.

The two wings of the door pulled back into the walls and Superhero entered. “What is it this time? Amenesias?”

“No. Not Amenesias, we haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Him.”, Superhero corrected.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway somebody else. A new villain. And as long as we don’t know more…-”

“-It’s better if I go check it out, just to be safe.”, Superhero finished their sentence.

“Just so nobody gets hurt.” They smiled.

“Sure.”, Superhero said. Ignoring the rumbling of his stomach. “Let me just get my stuff.”

Half an hour later Superhero was in full gear and had nearly caught up to Villain. They were committing some low-level crimes in the inner city but Superhero was not going to underestimate them because of it. There! They turned around a corner and saw them. A hooded figure was casually walking down the street and cutting things in half. Cars, Benches, hydrants. Superhero couldn’t see how they were doing that just yet but it didn’t matter. They’d be fine. So they sneaked up closer. Only go get hit in the side by a wave of asphalt. He flew into the next building and to the ground. Superhero took a run-up with his legs and pushed himself up with his arms. “Terra.”, what a pleasant surprise.”, they called out.

A malicious laugh was all they heard in response.

"Come out here so I can finish this and work on the actual threat.”, he provoked matter-of-factly.

Next a streetlamp hit him from behind. He got thrown forward onto all fours and used the momentum to roll forward into a handstand and push himself up again. Just in time to see Terra lunge at him. He blocked his stone punch with his left arm and buried his right hand in the villain’s hair. Then he let himself fall and pulled Villain down with him. They dropped to the ground and Superhero straddled Villain and pulled out the gas spewer.  A few seconds after they hit the trigger Terra’s body fell limb. Superhero quickly locked their wrists in the power supressing cuffs and then spun around to look for the hooded figure. They were leaning against a sliced car, perfectly calm, watching them.

Superhero stood up and turned around to them. “So what’s your deal, hood-guy?”

“I could ask you the same question. You have some kind of shield?”, hooded asks.

“Just lucky, I guess.”, Superhero replies. And just a moment after his stomach grumbles loudly. He cursed it in his mind.

Hooded cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, definitely, lucky…Tell me do they always use you as cannon-fodder?”

“I’m literally the best choice. To help out if need be and scoop out newcomers. Like you. And since you’re wasting time trying to get into my head you apparently don’t have more to offer than your little slicing.”, Superhero says dryly.

“Hmm, you’re not completely wrong, that is indeed what I’m best at. But I am not limited to only that.”

“Alright. Enough of this.”, Superhero cut in harshly and lunged at the hooded figure.

The figure hurriedly makes a swift flick motion and a scream rips through the air.

Superhero’s scream…

He drops to his knees, hand reaching up to his torse and coming back bloodied. He stares at it, eyes wide in terror. Breath picking up exponentially. Then suddenly two feet enter his vision and a hand sneaks under his chin and tilts it up. Until his wide eyes meet the sinister sparkling eyes of the hooded figure.

“Well, well, well. Looks like you finally found your match little one.”

Tears were welling up in Superhero’s eyes. “It hurts.”

“Aw you really have no idea of pain do you.”, the hooded figure cooed. Superhero whimpered and the sound was heaven to his ears. “Gooosh you’re perfect! Technically I only wanted to scoop out the competition and cause a little trouble. But I think I’m going to change my plans. And you’re coming with me little one. You can call me Supervillain.”

“N-No I-I don’t wanna.”, Superhero whimpered.

Hood-guy lifted his arm and lightly moved his fingers. “Do you want another taste?”

Superhero frantically shook their head.

“Now then. Come on.”

“They’ll-ugh-they’ll search for me!”, Superhero groaned out.

Supervillain only laughed. “I thought you were cleverer than that little one. You remember Amenesias?”

Superhero paled.

“There you go, finally clicked. Now get up and come here before I make you!”

This idea came to me randomly and it blew up on discord. So I wrote it

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, ( @eatyourdamnpears, @diamond-flavored-n whump, @sodacreampuff, @suspicious-whumping-egg, ), @ailesswhumptober

[missingcarrion]

carrion // ch15 neon lights

masterlist

taglist: @neapolitantoebeans @tapioca-milktea1978

-

            Lazarus walks through the entertainment district. He’s not exactly sure what brings him here, other than the fact that he doesn’t want to go home just yet. It’s been five weeks since he had first tried Songbird, and it had changed a lot of things. He had slept peacefully for the first time in a long time, even if it had been dreamless slumber. Anything was an improvement over the near constant nightmares.

            Vik suggested he get out more – experience life outside his bedroom walls. He had sent him a list of bars and clubs to go to, ideally to find someone to ‘connect’ with, outside of Laurie. Lazarus adores Laurie, he appreciates everything she’s done for him, and there’s not a single way he can repay her. But the relationship…. He mourns the relationship he wishes he had. He yearns for something more, something he won’t have from her. He can’t have from her.

            Deep down, he feels a level of betrayal, like he’s committing some crime at the idea of loving her. But is it really love? Is it really love when all she’s done is give, and all he’s done, is take? If he kissed her, would it be wrong? Could he love her? Would it be so wrong to love another when your heart is so cold and empty?

            He shouldn’t love her, and he won’t. Love is not a word made for him anymore, it’s not a feeling he even recognizes anymore. He thought he had it once, and then was left to die. He had risked it all for a plan he didn’t even want to partake in, and yet… he was the one who paid the price.

         ��  The bar isn’t quiet when he walks in, but it isn’t loud either. It’s a comfortable amount of noise, and he hesitantly approaches the bar and sits on one of the stools. It takes him much longer than necessary before he’s relaxed enough to stop staring holes into the drink menu. He orders the first drink that doesn’t sound nauseating.

            He’s sitting alone, happily, until he sees someone sit directly next to him. They clear their voice, and Lazarus can smell his cologne. He isn’t sure how to explain it but it smells like berries and darkness.

            “You’re supposed to be dead.” The man says, his voice raspy and low. He just waves his hand, and the bartender is at every beck and call. “Dead men are supposed to remain dead, interestingly enough.”

            “I don’t think I got that memo,” Laz snorts, and he runs his finger over the surface of the glass, “who are you?”

            “Depends, who are you? Who are you really?” The man laughs, and it’s a good laugh, deep and raspy. “Who do you think I am?”

            “Some creep guy who wants to get laid in a bar? Who else am I supposed to think you are?” Lazarus looks at him then, and he feels as if he should recognize the man. He’s got faint smile crinkles around his eyes, and creases by his nose and under his eyes. He’s an older gentleman, with dark brown hair that has faint lines of grey on the sides. His eyes are the color of a storm, and they’re as unforgiving as the sea.

            The man laughs again and he takes a sip of his amber colored drink, “You’d know me as Leviticus One.”

            There’s a brief moment of realization that crashes into Lazarus almost immediately. Leviticus. The Leviticus. Laz had heard of men like him, men whose generational wealth had stretched eons into the past, from legendary houses that stood through the test of time. His sigil had two serpents, one poised to strike while the other head lies in wait, preparing to strike when you least expect it. House Nightwraith is one of the only remaining lines of power left that’s disconnected from the Institute, the rest had been dissolved and the Institute had eaten them alive. But not him, and it was for a reason.

“Oh, shit,” Laz mutters, “what’s a rich guy like you doing here? Isn’t Terosi a bit… lower class for you?”

“I could ask the same of you, Doctor,” he says, and his tone is conspiratorial.

“Why does everyone seem to know who I was?” He hisses, looking away. He’d tried so hard to bury that part of him, to kill whatever was left.

“Vicarious needed access to the mechanical heart he transplanted in you,” Leviticus drawls, head tilted to the side, “but no, I would know your face anywhere, boy. You are the revolution, the whisper in the darkness. And I come with a proposition.”

“You didn’t have to use his full name like that, no one calls him Vicarious.” Lazarus downs his drink, and then Leviticus waves for another to be brought over. “What could a rich, trust fund guy want from me?”

“A lot of things,” he shrugs, “you’re somewhat of an asset. I’d like to hire you onto my team.”

“Team for what? I’m not some slut for hire, if the cane didn’t tell you.”

“You’d be surprised what you can do with a cane, Lazarus. But I have no need for such services. I want you to help me destroy the Institute.” Leviticus speaks so calmly about something so….. dangerous that it has Lazarus choking on his drink.

“What.”

“I will not repeat myself, Lazarus.”

“The answer is no, followed up by: are you fucking stupid?”

Leviticus sighs as if he’s heard this a million times and has no desire to hear it again. “Oh, sweet boy, you’ll come to learn that I’m not like you. I don’t let feelings affect my plans. Your plan was flawed from the very start – you never fully believed it would work. You let feelings get in the way.”

“I – How do you know that?” He furrows his brows, staring at the man.

“I know everything there is to know about the Institute, even matters concerning it’s downfall. I am a businessman and it is my job to know.” Leviticus is careful with his words, “you managed something many have died just thinking about, and you managed to take the Institute’s most prized asset. Their AI. They’ve since capitalized on a lower quality model, but nothing will replace what you stole from them.”

“I didn’t steal him. He left willingly. It was his idea,” Lazarus furrows his brows, scoffing, “I didn’t even want to leave. I was happy.”

“Do you think the caged bird returns to it’s jailer when it is afraid?” He clears his throat and pulls a card out of his chest pocket. “Think about it. You could be a great asset in taking the Institute down. For good.”

“And what do you get out of it? A new seat of power once they dissipate? If they dissipate. You’re talking about bringing down something that controls everything, is everything. It’ll never happen.” Lazarus stands, eyeing him incredulously. “The caged bird can’t fly anywhere if it's dead.”

Leviticus smiles, then, and it’s a terrifying smile. It’s soft and gentle and yet, like the surface of the ocean, something sinister lurks beneath. “You were dead, too, Lazarus. Now, we must see if you can fly.”

Lazarus watches him leave with a bewildered expression. One half of him wants to know just how the fuck he knows as much as he does, while the other part of him is curious about the business card. It’s metal, and has Leviticus One carved into the surface, black and gold. But on the back is a location, a club that he sponsors, and it feels like some sick joke that the name of the club had been something he wanted to name his own club – when he had those sorts of ambitions, that is.

‘Delirium’ is carved into black metal, inked with gold. It feels like its laughing at him. The world feels like it’s laughing at him.

—

Lazarus lies to Laurie. He lies to her like it comes second nature to him, like it’s right. He knows it isn’t and yet, when he comes home, he lies to her face. She asks where he’s been, and he only goes as far to tell her he had gone to the bar (under Vik’s suggestion) but he doesn’t tell her what happened there – about Leviticus. The proposition hangs heavy in the back of his mind and he thinks about it like he might actually go.

Ellie catches him zoning out in the living room, and she nudges his foot with his cane. “Your face looks dumb right now.”

“So does yours,” he snorts, “something up?”

She pauses and cocks her head to the side. She shrugs and sits next to him. “You left and didn’t take me with you.”

“You wouldn’t have liked where I went. It isn’t for kids,” he sighs, brows furrowing, “we can’t always do things together, you know.”

“Why? Because you aren’t married to my mom? That can change, can’t it?” Ellie stares at him, her brows furrowed but the look in her eyes tells him something else is going on.

“Your mother is a wonderful woman, Ellie, but,” he pauses and sighs, “I think you and your mother deserve more than what I have to offer. I’m… a mess, a very big mess. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask so much more of you.”

Her lips curl into a pout and she leans her head on his shoulder, “I think you and my mom should be together. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“What… what’s going on, Ellie? What’s gotten into you?” He asks, tone gentle and reassuring. He gives her hand a light squeeze.

“One of my friends… their dad started dating some new lady and she hates her. I don’t… I don’t want that to happen,” she whispers, “I like you. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want a new dad, I have you.”

Lazarus tenses at that. It had never been in his handbook to be a dad to anyone, whether biologically or by happenstance. He wasn’t made for it – he wasn’t even a good son, the greatest shame he had been the moment he had decided to change his body. His father never looked at him again, and his mother? There had been a heart-shattering look in her eyes before he left for good. He doesn’t know how to be a good anything. He was bad at being a scientist, a doctor, a boyfriend, and a person. To be a dad?

“Tell you want, kiddo,” he sighs, slowly, like he’s unsure of the steps to take, “I will talk with your mom about everything, okay? But I promise you I won’t go anywhere.”

It’s not a surefire solution, but it seems to leave Ellie satisfied with the makeshift solution. He isn’t entirely sure what he intends to discuss with Laurie, though. ‘Oh, hey, your daughter wants us to get married so I can be her dad’ doesn’t really seem to make as much sense as he thinks Ellie is expecting. But a promise is a promise, he supposes.

When Ellie finally decides to leave for her room, to end the night, he seeks Laurie out in the dimness of her apartment.

“Laz? What are…. What are you doing here?” She opens her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes with the balls of her fists. Had she been sleeping? Now he can’t help but feel guilty for bothering her like this – yet another thing he feels a burden for.

“Were you sleeping? I’m sorry, I just… I think we should talk, about… about Ellie. And us, I guess?” He scratches the back of his neck, lips pursed.

Her face scrunches and she invites him into her room, “yeah, yeah of course, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

Lazarus fidgets and he sighs, “she wants me to be her dad, and I don’t… she wants us to get together so she won’t lose me.”

“O – Oh.” Laurie pauses, almost surprised, and she clears her throat awkwardly. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Fuck if I know,” he throws his hands up, “this isn’t exactly something I’ve thought about. I told her I’d talk to you.”

Laurie eyes him and sighs, running a hand through her hair. “She should know marriage doesn’t have to happen for her to consider you her dad…”

“I think it’s more so she wants to ensure I won’t leave her.” He says, brows furrowed. “We don’t have to find a solution to this now, but.. she’s clearly concerned about something. Apparently one of her friends is going through something and it’s making her scared.”

Laurie purses her lips, “you care a lot about her, I… I could not ask for a better person to be there for her. We should just… see how this plays out, I’ll talk with her and we can figure this out. She… you know how she is. All she’s ever known is you.”

“I know,” his heart feels so heavy hearing her speak about them, and Leviticus’s words echo in the back of his mind. Liar. He wants nothing more than to fit this perfect role, to be the person they both need him to be. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault he died, you know that, you were practically comatose. There was nothing you ever could’ve done to change what happened,” she sighs, and reaches for his hand, giving it a light squeeze, “what matters is that you’re here, present for her, for yourself, even. The future is more important anyway.”

“You have a very good way of viewing things,” he sighs softly, lips pursed into a thin line, “I should go back to my room, it’s getting late. I’ve taken enough of your time.”

Laurie doesn’t stop him when he leaves and wanders back to his room. He doesn’t sleep easy that night, too busy thinking about Leviticus and his words. He had run from complications, and now he’s here, faced with a thousand more complications.

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

This Moment in History

June 9, 2023

Stephen Jay Morris

©Scientific Morality

Written documents like this are photos, frozen in time at the very moment of their inception. Through these, I can reflect on the past or the present. The future, of course, is unknown. In my current moment in time, the former U.S. president, Trump, will be indicted in some federal court for crimes he committed. Now, on the cyber bulletin-board, Twitter, his followers are raging. The formal indictment will take place in federal court in Miami, Florida this coming Tuesday. His followers are calling for a massive protest. I couldn’t even guess how it would turn out. Will there be a low turnout? Will there be a violent riot?  Will there be a counter demonstration? How about a police riot? Maybe nothing will happen at all. It’s a game of wait and see. I am sure glad I am a mere Homosapien and not omniscient, like God. Every tomorrow is a surprise to me. If I was God, I would have knowledge of every future event. I do pity God. He must live forever—a prisoner of infinity.  Me? If I am lucky, I’ll live until I am 85, maybe 93 tops. I can feel pain, pleasure, boredom, anger, love, sickness, good health, hunger, horniness, hatred, and envy. I embrace my mortality; I do not resent it. I was nonexistent before I was born, and I’ll be nonexistent after I die; which brings me to my next point…

Pat Robertson, founder of the Christian conservative movement, has died. You know the old expression: Only the good die young. Well, Pat was 93 when he kicked the bucket—a long life. He started the Trinity Broadcast Company, by which he had some TV show called “The 700 Club.” His voice was suave but came off as a mush mouth. He had this chuckle that sounded like a sociopath laughing after having killed someone. He was a fake Christian. His followers would put their hand on their TV sets and pray for their salvation, then they’d send him money! I think that’s what’s known as grifting. It’s bad enough that of most his followers were exploited by Capitalism and taxes, but God picked their pockets, also! Most of these pastors tell their parishioners that giving money to them is equal to giving money to God. Yup! That’s the scam!  You don’t need a pastor. All you need to do is to read the fuckin’ bible! Unless you’re some wealthy individual, you don’t even need an accountant; you can do your own taxes!

Early this month, Canada had some big wildfires burning across its southern forests, similar to when Australia did. Canada always sends us rain and snow, and other shitty weather. They also send us their social deviants like Steven Crowder and Gavin McInnes. “The Proud Boys” was started by some Canadian Illegal Alien!  “America First,” my ass! Well, guess where Canada’s toxic, wildfire smoke ended up? Throughout the Northeast Coast!

One morning last week, I went outside. At first, it was like a foggy day. Soon, the sky was an eerie orange, like Trump’s face, and there was an odor in the air like a fireplace in Poland. Smoke! I quit smoking six years ago, and here I was inhaling this exceedingly, unhealthy smoke again! I thought the Catskill Mountains were on fire. Pamela went to the post office and learned that the smoke was coming from fires in Canada. She said the employees advised that we stay indoors and close our windows. News reports soon related that the air over the entire northeast region was at an exceeding high, unhealthy level. New York City was featured in the news as having been engulfed in smoke for over three days. The New York Yankees game was canceled.

Was this a sign of God’s wrath against the Christian Nationalist heretics? I am an Agnostic, so I can pose a question like this. If it wasn’t, it was certainly a coincidence! The sky turned orange, Pat Robertson dies, and Trump gets indicted.  Hmmmm! Makes you think…

[eshuversal]

" I can follow your God. I've heard about heyoka - give me a chance for redemption. " masato to frikk or anyone u think would fit /metaversals

✦.  —  GROVELING, ARE WE? In a PATHETIC display, Masato stood before the loyalty enforcer, BEGGING – no – PLEADING to be given a chance. How quaint. How BORING of him, to think he could earn Frikk's favor by LYING to his face. Didn't he know all terestrials are the same? A jovial snicker left the celestial's lips, but before he could utter a word in response the BOMBSHELL was dropped –

' HEYOKA '.

The titan's fool; a term he hadn't heard coined in THOUSANDS of years, by now. Anything the traitor said after that fell of deaf ears as he continued to dig himself FURTHER and DEEPER into this hole. What had started as a simple hunt turned into something much more personal to Frikk, for the crime Masato had committed was – in his own mind – irredeemable. One simply doesn't get to DEGRADE their deity like that and continue living.

Fox-like pupils dilated into slits, his tails flicked behind him; ❛  mortals like you are beyond redemption.  ❜ The words were COLD and accompanied by a low growl. Despite the ever present smile he wore – there was nothing but MALICE in those eyes. Frikk didn't just want this terrestrial gone, he wanted him DEAD. Oh, but don't worry! Frikk isn't going to be the one to do the deed, he cares FAR too much about his well kept appearance for that. He'd let the bishops handle this, he was sure they'd take issue with Masato's transgressions as well.

Without skipping a beat, Frikk would grab hold of the magic cuffs that bound Masato and PULLED the man behind him in a feat of celestial-level strength. Strength that wouldn't seem possible, given Frikk's build and stature by comparison.

❛  Follow me - !  ❜ as if Masato had any say in the matter, ❛  if you'd like to prove me wrong, I have some friends you need to visit first, I PROMISE it'll be fast! It'll be over before you know it!  ❜

@metaversals

[ardenssolis]

@hembralfa said (inbox):

"we are here under the orders of Queen Leanne." the 'knight' holds up an official letter with none other than the false queen's insignia. "we've heard that a fugitive of York has been spotted in your castle and we request to see all of those whom you employ." the note documents how Leanne needed this woman back as she had committed crimes against York and it's people and it was due time she paid for them. "in one hours time we will come back, and we hope you have gotten everyone rounded up. all we need to do is see their faces. if the criminal is in your ranks we will take her back with us and you will be compensated as we are sure she's caused you issues given her... violent nature."

     IT WAS INSTANT HOW he stood, how he towered from his throne and peered down upon the so-called knights that dared approach him in this manner. It was as if the temperature in the room had picked up a few degrees, and if anything, perhaps it had. ❝You dare…come to me like this? As if you have some authority here? As if your queen has authority here?❞ His voice was low, words spoken softly, yet the heat was there with each syllable that slipped past his lips. It was then that he slowly made his way down his the many steps to his throne, each clack of his sandals akin to a resounding boom in that quiet chamber. He did not step all the way down, however. That would denote equality and he wanted to make it quite clear that they were far, far beneath him. ❝I might have humored you originally, but for you to talk to me – to command me… The compensation I will accept is a finger to send back to your most exalted Queen as my definite answer to her sending hounds to sniff about my palace.❞

     His words were law. His words an ORDER, not an idea – not a POTENTIALITY. He would take a finger from these men, and if they decided to fight, he would send their heads back instead. Leanne would learn her place, would be reminded that her reach stopped at his borders and would remain at the very edges. If she wanted to search for this ‘missing person’, then she best send individuals who held more diplomatic skill than two bumbling ‘knights’. And even then, Ozymandias might now allow it. This was his kingdom, and he would not have some pretender from another realm telling him what to do as if they were on the same level.

     Laughable.

[ma-lark-ey]

Summarizing the Foxhole Court cast as artists I follow on Spotify and why (and with links to the artists/songs);

Neil;

Set It Off, thinks he’s so cool and edgy and for the most part he is but also there’s too much time where’s he’s a silly goose. Specifically, he’s Cinematics Era because yeah they have some emo bangers like Partners in Crime and I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead but also Dad’s Song is on that album as is Dream Catcher

Andrew;

Chase Petra. Intense, overwhelming, takes awhile to understand, either is super mellow and chill or the pop punk anthems are GOING. Particularly, Andrew reaks of Monet Issues and Soapy Water, but I also believe he could jive with Reliable Narrator, not to mention In An Emergency Such As The End Of The World

Kevin;

Noah Kahan. It's abut the complex relationship with where you grew up and having a deep, inescapable loving and loathing for that environment. You're Gonna Go Far is just so Kevin coded, and also recognizing you are simultaneously your problem and your solution, like Dial Drunk. And All My Love is just sooo Riko and Kevin (I mean, 'No winter coat could keep out the cold of your atmosphere // We once sang Retrograde, we'd shake the frame of your car // Now I know your name but now who you are')

Aaron;

Alec Benjamin. A lot of people find him unassuming and whatnot, but honestly he'd kind of devastating and we should be cautious. Particularly, Boy In The Bubble & Outrunning Karma I feel have a very fitting energy. My Mother's Eyes (Unreleased) also has something distinctly Aaron about it, as does The Knife In My Back (Unreleased)

Nicky;

The Moondivers. Similar genre feel to Chase Petra but has a more lo-fi undertones. Stays at a pretty level sixty but can go either direction pretty fast. Particularly, Lovely has very Nicky energy to, lacking commitment but also not lacking the love and the need for the person.

Wymack;

Fall Out Boy. Very gruff and rough and tumble on the surface and has that iconic emo energy, but under all of that harsh exterior there’s an underlying message of community and healing and acknowledging the depression and the darkness but also learning to heal. Things like Save Rock & Roll as well as The Kids Aren't All Right show that distinct want to improve and move on with life while we also have songs like My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark and So Much (For) Stardust keep us in that depressive state.

Dan;

Sabrina Carpenter. It took me awhile to figure this one out, but I think this is the one. Pretty much everyone knows who she is but doesn't realise just how much she's done. The energy of this low-level A-lister who everyone knows and respects at least a little bit, but doesn't have the public in the palm of her hand the way other women like Beyonce or Swift do. Also the vibes are entirely correct, she's in the car karaokeing this shit with Matt tell me I'm wrong. She's jamming out to Feather and Sue Me and Thumbs like it's nobody's business. The entire summary of emails i can't send just feels so Dan I can't explain it.

Renee;

Julian Moon. Has this softcore vibe about her, but it powerful and doesn't put up with a lot. Particularly, Siren Song I think fits Renee really well, and Pomegranate Seeds feels like something that'd be on her playlist. Savior matches her role amongst the Foxes (also the intense religious imagery in this song and this EP as a whole needed to be referenced).

Matt;

Placebo. It's glam rock but also not. It's kind of undefinable. You're not really sure what's going on with the music, but you know it's slaps. It's been around a long time and has it's own respect. tbch I don't know massive amounts of Placebo's stuff, mostly only know one album right now because I feel the need to completely dissect an album from an artist before I move on to the next one, but their cover of Running Up That Hill is fantastic. From their actual discography, I think Matt has the vibes/would enjoy Brick Shithouse, Pure Morning, and Burger Queen

Seth;

Eminem (YES I listen to Eminem unironically). He doesn't give a fuck what you think about him, he says a lot of shit he probably shouldn't say, but he's also got points sometimes. Without Me is playing in the background when he comes back in book one. Love The Way You Lie is him and Allison core. Just Lose It is just funny and something he'd listen too all the time. He'd also think he was cool and different for listening to him.

Allison;

Maisie Peters. As much feral crazy ex-girlfriend music as there is sad depression bops. Unpredictable in every measure. Is here for a good time not a long time. BSC is very Allison core, and I think History of Man as well. Boy also reeks of her and Seth's relationship, and Blonde is what she blasts in her bedroom to get ready in the morning.

Abby;

Kesha. She's got a history to her, she fits with the Foxes. She's one of this insane pack, but also she's working on helping fix this insane group. She cares abut their wellbeing, she wants the best. She's got the energy of Resentment, Learn To Let Go, but also she knows these are kids who are gonna do insane things, so let's through in Hymn and Raise Hell. She knows her role in the group, but also she'll stray out of it and test new things. Also, she has to be a bit crazy to be able to manage Andrew's lot.

okay thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[borahaerhy]

Dealer (3) - myg

Summary: Your boyfriend seemed like a dream come true: always wanting to be around you, making sure you would get home safe, never taking his hands off you. These little comforts became your whole world, and then the only thing you were allowed to have left in the world. Luckily, your boyfriends drug dealer turned out to be a much nicer guy.

Pairing: DrugDealer!Yoongi x Female!Reader

Genre: Mafia/drug kingpin au, Y/N coming from nothing, found family, Eventual smut

Warnings: A concerning father-son relationship, More of Zeke being lowkey insane, New BTS member introduced!, hitmen, a dead body, a lot of other smaller stuff but only referenced and it has to do with the hitmen, so yk what to expect.

Word count: 1.5k (Ik short as fuck, apologies <3)

Previous | Next

Note: If you are sensitive or triggered by abusive relationships or manipulation in any way, please do not read this fic, it can be very triggering. It will also be referenced that Y/n used to self harm, and has self-harm scars. This is fic is going to cover a lot of intense topics, and there will be a lot of drugs.

“Goddamn it, Zeke, calm the fuck down so I can actually understand what you’re saying,” Jeff had honestly been sick of his nephew’s bullshit for a very long time. Sat hunched over his desk, half paying attention to Zeke and half paying attention to the papers on his desk that should be consuming his entire focus.  

“They fucking took Y/n, Jeff. Someone came in here and fucking kidnapped her; and I know exactly who did it,” Zeke’s voice was easier to understand, but shaking with the kind of rage that would scare anyone.  

Anyone except Jeff, that is.  

“So you want me to take the guy out and get your little girlfriend back?” Zeke started yelling again, not pleased with his uncle's disrespectful tone, but to put it simply, his response was “yes”. Jeff sighed, not wanting to waste any of his good men’s efforts on some low-grade pot dealer. He moved a few people around, checked to see who was available.  

Not wanting to send the guy who has yet to do a solo mission, he called in ole reliable.  

“Jay, get your ass in here,” He called someone on the buisness phone on his desk, after finally getting Zeke to hang up after assuring him he'd get you back. He hung up before they could even get a word in edgewise, and two minutes later, a man walked in in a baggy hoodie and sweatpants, hair disheveled and hands in his pockets as he slouched in his place.  

“Yeah boss?” Jeff looked up at his son, sighing at his disheveled appearance in the middle of the afternoon.  

“I’ve got a job for you. Names Min Yoongi, he’s a low-level drug dealer whose kidnapped someone. I need you to kill him and get her back,” Before Jeff could finish his sentence, his son had already pulled out his phone and looked for the name on any public records, then to see if he was affiliated with anyone.  

“No,” He slid his phone back in his pocket and turned around, ready to walk back up to his room and go back to sleep.  

���Jay, you’re going to want to do this one-”  

“Nah, I don’t think so. He hasn’t committed any major crimes or atrocities. He’s never hurt anyone, never sold anything harder than some weed, and he volunteers at animal shelters in his free time; I’m not killing him.”  

Jeff looked at his son with animosity, clenching his jaw as he began to type in a new number. As Jay began to turn around again, about to go back to bed for real this time, the other line picked up.  

“Min Yoongi, mid-sized drug dealer on the south side, kidnapped my nephew’s girlfriend. Kill him, get her and bring her back here. You have an hour.”  

Fuck.  

That was a fucking setup.  

Jay finished walking out of the door and ran up to his bedroom, needing to find out where you were as soon as possible.  

- 

“Oh, Y/n, this is my cousin, Jay.” You reached your hand out to shake his, bright smile on your faces as Zeke’s arm pulled you tighter into his side.  

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/n,” He bowed slightly while your hands were shaking before he stood back up and let go.  

“Don’t mind him, his mom raised him for a while in Korea before they moved back here.” Zeke’s comment was meant to be insulting, but you had only been fascinated.  

“You grew up in Korea?” Jay’s smile returned to his face, not used to meeting people that had associated with his family that were interested in his culture.  

“Yeah, only until I was 11 though. Then we moved back here so I could meet the rest of my family.”  

“Wow, that must’ve been a hard transition at such a young age. Did you know any English when you moved here?” He was almost taken back from the emotion he could see spelled out on your sweet face. He couldn’t help but keep smiling, even at the thought of one of the worst periods of his life.  

“I knew a little; basic English is taught in most schools in Korea at a very young age. But it wasn’t so bad, I still had my mom,” You smiled at his facial expression only getting warmer as he mentioned his mother again. The two of you had sat and spoken for hours, Zeke never leaving your side, but rarely ever interjecting in your conversation. He sat near and spoke to the other members of his family, mostly of how weird it was that Jay was even talking to anyone, and how annoying it had been that it was you that he was talking to.  

The family gathering had come to an end hours after the sun had set and the food had been packed up and stored back in the house. You were saying goodbye to everyone as Zeke stood beside the car at the side of the road, annoyed and ready to leave.  

“It was really nice to meet you, Jay,” You spoke softly as he engulfed you into a hug that lasted a bit longer than it should’ve - something Zeke definitely made sure you knew after you got back home.

“My name’s actually Jimin,” You looked slightly confused as you pulled away from the hug. Jimin smiled. “No one here likes to acknowledge that I’m Korean now that my mom’s gone. Easier to pretend she never existed when my name's Jay.” You smiled again, this one slightly more sad than the previous bright ones you held so proudly upon your beautiful lips.  

“Well, Jimin, it was very nice to meet you. You can call me anytime,” You smiled and hugged him again briefly before making your way back to the car.  

Jimin had watched you walking away, and then never saw or heard from you again. He messaged you a few times but he never got any response. He had always known his cousin was not the best person from the time they had spent together as children. Sure, Jimin was a hitman, but Zeke was a million times more fucked up than he could ever even imagine being.  

Though, trying to think positively, he just hoped you had accidentally given him the wrong number. Not that you had lost your phone privileges from being too ‘overly flirtatious’ with him.  

- 

Jimin arrived at Yoongi’s house only 20 minutes after the newbie had gotten there. His car still being there wasn’t a good sign. Jimin sighed as he pulled on latex gloves and grabbed his Glock out of the glove box of his car. He got out and held the gun down by his side, being sure to be aware of every movement that was happening in the surrounding neighborhood as he made his way up to the front door.  

Dumbass.  

Jimin sighed as he pushed open the broken door, bewildered as to how he thought it was a good idea to shoot through the front door of a suburban neighborhood.  

Right inside the front door was the body of the man whose name Jimin could not remember, but was definitely the guy his father had sent on the job. The blood had stopped flowing from his as if it was all already completely drained from the pale face of someone that couldn’t be more than 20 years old; probably just trying to make enough money to support his family or pay off some debts.  

He sighed as he swept the house, making sure there wasn’t anyone else here before he made his way back out to the car, dialing his father’s number as he went.  

“Speak.”  

“New guy’s dead, looks like our low-level dug dealer is a little more than that,” Jimin put the phone on speaker as he pulled his lap top out of the back seat of his car and got to work.  

“I trust you’ll take care of it from here?”  

“On it boss.”  

It took Jimin less than an hour to get a clean-up crew in and out of the house, and had guards posted all around the neighborhood to keep watch on the house to see if anyone should return; and was sitting in some random parking lot trying to find anything on him that might suggest where he would have gone next.  

Every car, weapon and address listed as belonging to him at any point in time, and any known affiliates that he had. Aside from other mid to low-level drug dealers and the person who sold the drugs to them, there was only one other person he was known to be acquainted with.  

Kim Seokjin.  

Seokjin had been on their radar for quite some time; having had several hits put out on him in the past. They stopped accepting hits on him when everyone sent out to take care of him had never been seen again; no body, no trace, nothing. Even the people who hired them to kill him had gone missing seemingly overnight without a trace.  

Jimin groaned loudly as started his car and headed off to the only place he swore he’d never go.  

I just hope I can get to them before they get to Seokjin.  

-

Taglist: @pamzn @fvcuidk @cybm1n @limiworld @scuzmunkie @hyunjingin @nellyboosworld @giselleg7784 @zaeve @lovelgirl22 @rosquilleta @kooliv @bangtannie7 @strawberryjimin13 @anjoellamorte @limitlessdespondency @lalaoise @roxy1205 @lavender-ivy @orangecarrotlemon @billy-jeans23  

[sm-entertain-me]

“My Name” Masterlist

Welcome everyone to my Masterlist that is exclusively for the hit Netflix series “My Name”, starring Han Sohee, Park Heesoon, Ahn Bohyun, Chang Ryul, and Lee Hakjoo! I have become obsessed with the show and will be writing more on the Dongcheon side of things rather than for Pildo, but I will still write for him nonetheless! It’ll just be a little bit less frequent as I have some demons that need to be tended to due to Mujin, Gangjae, and Taeju’s characters in the series. Enjoy!

Last Updated: December 5th at 10:10 PM (PST). Most Recent: Wrong Place, Right Time (M), smut for Do Gangjae.

LEGEND: TBW - To be written. IN PROGRESS/NC - Not completed. TBR - To be Released, usually the next smut to be released. BOLDED - popular 

Choi Mujin (Park Heesoon)

Vital Points (M) - While Jiwoo is away being the good little mole she can for Mujin, another prolific female joins the inner rankings of Dongcheon. Seeing how far she’s progressed in such a short time, Mujin arranges for some one on one time to test her training… and her resolve.

Sweet Relief (M) -  In the short amount of time you had been in Dongcheon, you rose to the same level as Mujin’s most trusted henchmen, maybe even the same level as Taeju. You had seen Mujin at his lowest lows and his highest highs, but you often wonder how much of a toll it takes on him. Unable to face his demons alone anymore, Mujin turns to you for relief in more ways than one.

April Showers (M) - Long day of training means a long, steamy shower to get you all rested for tomorrow’s brawl. Your boss completely agrees and has to make sure you’re properly rested to give your best tomorrow, no matter what extracurricular activities it may contain

The Offer (M) - As a steadily improving drug lord in the streets of Seoul, it’s very important of you to get some protection to help grow your empire to new heights. Knowing how Dongcheon operates and how they’re known for having the most effective security details, you arrange a sit down with their dashing leader to make him an offer he can’t refuse.

Master and Apprentice (M) - It’s no secret that you and Gangjae are an item within the Dongcheon organization, but what happens when Mujin walks in on his two most talented recruits in the bedroom together? (feat. Gangjae)

Do Gangjae (Chang Ryul)

Money Talks (M) -  You’re the most sought after dancer in the club, always getting suitors to beg you to come home with them in exchange for empty promises of marriage, riches, and everything your heart desires. You’ve heard every line in the book and we’re unimpressed with each attempt to say the least. Until one night when a new drug lord has eyes only for you and won’t take no for an answer.

Master and Apprentice (M) - It’s no secret that you and Gangjae are an item within the Dongcheon organization, but what happens when Mujin walks in on his two most talented recruits in the bedroom together? (feat. Mujin)

Wrong Place, Right Time (M) -  You knew you didn’t belong in a club like Mango’s, the type of people surrounding you being wanted for all kinds of crime that you couldn’t even fathom committing. But after the day you had, all you wanted to do was let loose and forget about reality for at least one night. You were sure at least something in this club would make you forget… or someone that is.

Jung Taeju (Lee Hakjoo)

Sworn Protector (M) -  Being the daughter of a prolific drug lord wasn’t necessarily easy as you had many people try to kill you, men try to do unspeakable things to you, or steal money from you just because of your status. They all tried and never succeeded because Taeju was always there to protect you. After all these years, you never knew how to repay him, until one seemingly meaningless midnight conversation in your penthouse suite turns into something much more passionate.

Secret Service (M) [TBW] - As a member of Dongcheon, Taeju was forbidden from having an official relationship as Mujin believes it would distract him from his work. So when Mujin enters Taeju’s room unannounced to discuss their next plan of attack, he has to act quick to make sure you stay hidden from his watchful eyes.

Jeon Pildo (Ahn Bohyun)

A Night in Narcotics (M) - You had one simple job tonight and you let Mujin down by getting caught by Narcotics while transporting new product from the warehouses since you had pulled transport duty tonight. Now you were stuck in a holding cell, alone with the smug cop that was able to slide those handcuffs around your wrists. You wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk right off his face...

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze — Spencer Reid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I am marathoning Criminal Minds again and I can not express how much I loved the interaction of Gideon and Spencer!! So this idea came as an epiphany, and I love the conception of love at first sight. Maybe this becomes a serie...

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple:Spencer Reid/Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Something was different. Maybe it was the way the sun's rays cascaded down in an atypical way, maybe it was the breeze that carried a more lyrical intonation on its back, or maybe it was just the Earth that was adorned by an ethereal veil. Spencer didn't know how to point out what was really different, but he felt in his soul that something in the hemisphere had changed.

At first, when he took the subway to work, Spencer thought it was just an ephemeral sensation, just like those seconds when you feel the breath of the breeze more cold. But it didn't. The sensation accompanied him to work, to the plane, to the case, it stuck to him like a tattoo and Reid found himself looking around for answers that did not exist physically.

He considered all the theories that were possible to explain that destabilization in his subtly balanced world. But he found none.

“Are you feeling anything different today?” That's what he asked Morgan.

Derek shrugged, finishing packing up at the police station so they could go back to Quantico.

“No.” Then he looked Reid whit his obsidian eyes “Is something bothering you? Is the Genie feeling any peturbation in the Force? ”

Spencer chuckled through his nose at the Star Wars joke, but just shook his head in a 'No'. And the conversation died there. How could he explain something that even he didn't understand?

Trying to ignore the way his heart was beating fast, for no reason, in anticipation of something Spencer himself was unaware of, he wondered how long he was going to have that sensation. The feeling of euphoria, the taste of something, there was something exciting in the air, almost angelic.

But how long was that going to accompany him? One day? One week? Whole life? For the first time, Spencer didn't have the answer. And that was disconcerting.

When BAU's glass doors opened for agents to settle on their desks and Hotch and Gideon go to their respective offeces, a wave of icy breeze from the DC air reverberated through the enclosure. Spencer can see that Morgan shrugged in the wind, Emily looke for a coat in the black suitcase, but his own body didn't seem to be hit by the same breeze. For Reid, it had been a caustic, lyrical, almost spring, wave that carried the promise of something extraordinary on back. Almost divine.

In that split second, in a time as short as a blink, the feeling that his life would never be the same made him losing his breath. Spencer does not know what attracted his gaze to the BAU door, nor what made his whole body turn in that direction, like a magnet, like a wanderer in the desert who finds his Oasis. But he had been attracted, and as soon as a female hand pushed through the glass door and her figure came into view, Spencer understood the extraordinary thing that him heart was beating for in anticipation.

You.

It was as if the universe had been preparing him all day for that moment. As if the body itself tried to prepare it. Because if Spencer hadn't fell those feelings of euphoria all day, he would have drowned in his own reactions to seeing you.

In a burst, like a violin string popping, Reid understood what was different about the hemisphere, because why the air was ethereal, because why the night felt like poetry, and why the moon whispered swears of love. In that moment, Spencer understood the mysteries of the world, unraveled the riddles of life, drank from the wisdom of The Oracle of ancient Greece. In an instant, watching you enter, Spencer understood the reason for his life.

In an instant.

The world shuddered in slow motion, capturing all your movements, all your graceful gait, all your glory. An elegant black dress with thin straps modeled your body in an arcane, almost divine way, your legs were supported on black high heels, making your walk seem like a glide of honey.

You were not beautiful. You are gorgeous. You shone. Sparkled.

And, like an atrocious wave that broke over Reid and pulled him into the sea, that whole feeling that stuck with him all day came to accompany the female figure. Following in your footsteps like the tail of a long dress.

Spencer was sure that his life would never be the same.

They hadn't even sat at their tables when you showed up. Like the muse that came out of an action movie. And when you got close enough to attract the attention of Emily and Morgan, whose Derek opened his mouth when he noticed the female figure that was the personification of Female Fatal, Spencer felt himself letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He knew that anyone with eyes and a little common sense would notice how overwhelmingly beautiful you were, so when Morgan turned his body fully towards you, Reid was not surprised.

“Hi." Your voice, to Reid, had a floral intonation “Do you guys know where I can find Jason?”

When his eyes met yours, Spencer felt his breath being stolen from him once again. Usually, girls like you didn't look twice at guys like him, Spencer knew that. Girls like you liked men like Morgan. Athletes, strong, Alpha Male. And because of that, it was an explosion in Reid's system when you took a few seconds longer in that eye contact and a delightful smile appeared on yours lips. As if you appreciate what you were seeing.

That was a shock. Was it true or was he misinterpreting the signs? Was him mind playing tricks on him, like the flickering shadows of furniture under the darkness and the flame of a candle? Spencer would not be able to say a word without stuttering at that moment even that him life depended on it. In fact, he was already starting to feel cheeks heating up. So he thanked any deities that might exist when Morgan and Emily responded to you and broke the eye contact between the two of you.

“Jason Gideon?” Morgan frowned slightly.

“He's in the office but...” But Emily couldn't finish the sentence before Gideon's voice came out over everyone's:

“Y/n?” It was in a tone that no one there had ever heard in Gideon. A sweet, loving intonation... paternal.

None of the three agents present there had time to express their thoughts in facial expressions before you said:

“Dad!”

Then the whole world took a turn and seemed to be terrified, making them feel as if they had been thrown out of the tenth-floor window. This time, Reid's eyes widened at the two friends, who also had puzzled expressions. Everyone knew that Gideon had a past, probably with divorces and children, a life he had left behind, but no one expected...that.

Perhaps Gideon's vision of a family was something that was only in the imagination, never something tangible. Until that moment. Until the most beautiful girl Reid had ever seen was the daughter of one of the men he respected most. Until him heart soared at alarming levels for him boss's daughter. Spencer had been in trouble before when it came to matters of the heart, but the trouble gained a position in the top 3.

“What are you doing here?” A rare smile appeared on Gideon's face, his brow slightly furrowed.

“We were going to dinner today, remember? In that new Japanese restaurant.” Your tone of voice was not resentful or hurt by the situation that was explicit there.

The life of a BAU agent take many things, some with a more atrocious force than others, and one of them was the availability of hours. commitments that count on presence.

“I totally forgot, I'm sorry.” Gideon's voice was always calm and controlled, he managed to speak from the most tender emotions to the most heinous crimes with a peaceful intonation. But to perceive traces of parental love was new. “The case was very complicated, my cell phone died and...”

“It's okay, Dad.” You smiled, making a casual gesture with your hand “I thought this happened, but I thinking it best to come here to see if everything was okay instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

Your smile, despite being the simple one, was the brightest for Spencer.

Gideon still had a fatherly look and a chaste and grateful smile when he turned to the other agents who were still puzzled.

“Y/n, these are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Jason introduced them to you “Guys, this is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Is a pleasure.” You smiled genuinely at them.

“I had no idea that you had a daughter!” Emily gave a low, slightly bewildered laugh that also made you laugh.

“Everybody says that.” You looked at your father again, having fun.

“I'm just going to go over some reports with Hotcher before I leave.” Gideon kept a chaste smile. “Why don't you wait here and then let's go get something to eat?”

“Of course, no problem, Dad.” You agreed, adjusting the thin shoulder bag that was on your shoulder.

As Jason went up to Hotcher's office, you turned to the agents again, with a gentle smile on your face.

“My dad said great things about you.” Emily smiled at your statement.

"I'm still chocked ." She laughed, and Morgan added:

“ I really need to know...” he looked around, in a playful suspense “Is Gideon really that serious outside the FBI?”

You laughed “Oh no! Definitely not.”

So you reached for your phone in the litlle bag, hunting for a photo on it and showing it to the three agents. It was a recent photograph where you and Gideon had their faces painted in easy ink. You had a skeleton mouth made with white and black paint, and Jason had a pink glitter butterfly covering his left cheek. You two were laughing in the photo.

Morgan was the one who let out a loud, dripping laugh, with a few tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“How is this possible?” Morgan was trying to catch the air.

“It was at the last Halloween, he and I bet that whoever lost in the snooker that day would have to paint a butterfly on their face.” You laughed.

“And did he lose?” Spencer found a voice for it, his mind failing to process the image of Gideon losing any game.

“I have my suspicions that he let me win” You joked “But I enjoyed the victory just the same.”

The conversation was light after that, Spencer refrained from much of the dialogue, a little fearful that you could hear him heart beating loudly whenever you smile in his direction. As the minutes passed, Derek and Emily had to go back to their duties and finish their reports, while you were sitting in one of the chairs at an empty table.

It was one of those moments when Reid tried to focus on the files in front of him to exorcise what was going on around him. Paperwork had always brought the lull needed to make Spencer meditate. It was almost like relaxation. But in moments like this, when something in the environment around him pulled his attention so much, he stayed on the same page for long minutes.

That must be why he didn't hear the wheels on your chair approach, and he didn't even notice that you were so close until you said:

“Are you really a doctor?” Your voice was low, soft, as if you didn't want to disturb the other agents who were working.

Spencer turned his head towards you, only to find the modern personification of what would be the Athena de Troia. You were close, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could smell your perfume. You smelled like the night, the excitement of nights and the brightness of the stars. And if Spencer looked deeper into yours eyes, he would sure they contained shine moonlight.

He swallowed, the mania for blinking compulsively returning a little.

“A-ahm yes. Not really a doctor, but m-my 3 Phd’s make me a doctor.”

He might be mistaken, but the smile that spread across your face was not just friendly, it wasn't curious, it was… delighted. As if the roles were reversed and he was the most fascinating thing in that room, not you.

The glow that was adorned in yours eyes had something lyrical, ethereal, wonderful. As if the brightness of all the galaxies were inhabiting your irises, moving in your orbit. At that moment, Spencer was deeply grateful to have eidetic memory, because 10 years from now he could still remember how you looked like a muse over there. DC night came in through the big glass windows, and if Reid had to describe that moment with the five senses, he would say that the world had turned the light down to a rose tone, the smell was heaven and your smile promised to contain wonders of the world.

Holy Mother of God, you are so, so beautiful!

“My dad said there was a genius on the team.” You said, your attention on him is always tender, adoreble. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Your perfume invaded him sense of smell once again, and he felt his heart beat faster once more. Spencer would have told you all the secrets in the world if you asked. He would have told all own secrets.

“No way.” He sat back in his chair to look at you better, oblivious to the exchange of looks that Emily and Morgan gave.

You rested your arms on Spencer's table, the chair next to his.

“You never thought of being like... the wizard Doctor Strange?” You hoped that Spencer knew Marvel “Before he was a magician, of course. But why didn't you want to be a surgeon or something?” You laughed “There is a phrase him says: I have a photographic memory and this is what made me ..."

“ ‘Get my diploma and doctorate at the same time’ " Spencer completed you, laughing softly “I know the HQs. Did you know that the Doctor Strange character was created during the Silver Age of American comics to bring a different type of character and mystical themes to Marvel Comics? It him has an intellectual coefficient close to 177 points and I have… ”

The more he rambled, the more a stunning smile spread across your face. As if you were enchanted with him. And you were. Everyone was noticing the way Spencer seemed to have you curled up on his finger, your eyes sparkling and a silly smile twinkling on your face, paying attention to every word he said. It was an overwhelmingly lovely sight to behold.

But just as everything had a time, an hourglass, your time had reached the last grain of sand.

“All right, Y/n.” Gideon went down the stairs, cutting the end of Reid's sentence “Ready?”

You stood up, agreeing with your father and smoothing the dress. When you put your hands on the chair, ready to take it back to place, you turned to Spencer once again:

“I'm going to bring my dad to BAU tomorrow, do you think me and you can meting and you give me the answer to the question tomorrow?” Your smile was able to light up the whole of Washington.

“S-sure!” Spencer's voice went up more high notes than he would like to admit.

And, even when you left, even when Morgan and Emily jokes him about it, and even when he finally lay down on his own bed, you were still the only thing that occupied Spencer's mind.

[musicallisto]

𓂀 — 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚; (jack wilder x f!reader)

anon requested: For your new year event can I request number 29 with Jack Wilder ( now you see me )?

song: havana (remix) - camila cabello & daddy yankee | 𝄞

summary: "And he didn't know her name, but he would have danced a thousand dances only to hold her for a second, and take the lingering memory of her warm skin back to America with him."

word count: 1.4k words

author notes: I have many, many MANY feelings about the depiction of Latin America as this tropical paradise in the USA’s backyard for (white) americans to enjoy, with local people as extras in the background (or there to either commit Drug Baron Crimes(tm) or be poor I guess), that is so prevalent in western media... and none of these feelings are good. I wanted to write this in a way that was respectful to Cuban people and culture and different from the usual US gaze, but I’m not Cuban myself, so I really hope it turned out alright. please tell me if there's anything insensitive, and if the Cuban slang is accurate!

features: drinking, flirting & sexual tension, some dialogue in Spanish.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐖 corners of the world that the FBI did not, as impossible as that sounded.

Or at least they had assured the Horsemen in the note they left on the dinner table of their Cuba hideout. While every government agent ripped their hair out, scrambling for an explanation as to how in the hell four million dollars vanish out of existence from an unconquerable Bank of America vault, they would be safe and unbothered in Havana… as long as they laid low.

And lay low they did. The first day, at least.

After Daniel had run out of card tricks and everyone had gotten tired of Guess-What-I’m-Thinking-About-Right-Now — a game only Merritt enjoyed, it seemed, the air in the house grew unbreathable with boredom… and Jack’s wallet heavy with possibility.

Besides, he’d heard from Lula when she’d gone out scouting the perimeter, there was a dimly-lit basement, under an innocuous hairdresser salon, that looked a lot like a clandestine bar calling his name — and a good time.

So there he was, Friday night, nine p.m. on the dot, dressed elegantly enough to be let inside while not drawing suspicion, followed by a diluted scent of cologne and the fading light of the lampposts. The heat of the day still sizzled on the pavement when he strode down the stairs and knocked on the door, giving himself as detached an air as he could; judging by the glance he received through the hidden visor at eye level, before he was let in, he had been more convincing as a local than he had thought.

The sweet smell of alcohol permeated the room, all low roof and dark walls, but lit here and there by discreet lamps and thunderous laughter. The music, already, more than the smell, intoxicated him; a sensual sound of salsa which leaked from the brass of the band and wrapped around him like a thick heat. Not far from the bar, the tables had been pushed aside to make room for pairs of dancers; they swayed around like undulating sunbeams, laughing out loud; and Jack could not refrain his smile. Oh, how the others would regret not crashing this party.

His smile, however, waved when she walked past him without a glance in his direction, striding with purpose toward the bar.

He blinked, swallowed hard, resumed his breathing, picked up his derailed heartbeat; but he couldn't take his eyes away from her legs, her figure, her confidence as she marched to the bartender. For a second, he questioned if she had been real, or merely a trick of the light - for surely a bronze and gold idol could not have come alive before his eyes.

Then a surge of panic came over him when she sat on a stool and raised an arm and a smile at the bartender. Regardless of who she was, or even if she was - Jack could not let her go.

"¡Gabi! Ponme un ron con hielo!"

"Ahora mismo, guapa."

"Aseré, ¿qué bolá, Y/N? Ño, ¡cuanto tiempo!"

Trying his best to catch the bartender's attention amidst the tide of joyous celebrations, Jack snapped his fingers and gestured at himself, unsure of what he was ordering - but at least the bartender nodded curtly and disappeared behind the counter. Taking a seat on the stool, Jack exhaled deeply... and found himself face to face with the gorgeous stranger he had been struck by.

His mind went blank once more as she stared at him, the faintest hint of amusement gleaming in her perfect eyes, and it took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize she had asked him something in Spanish - an even longer moment to gather up the flimsy memories he had from high school.

"Uh... Lo siento..."

But she interrupted him immediately with a flick of the wrist and a little laugh, clear and bright like a bell. At least there was no irritation on her traits, just a little bit of surprise.

"Oh, you have quite the nerve coming along because not many people love gringos around here. You better have a solid reason to crash the party."

"I'm hiding from the FBI?"

Her laughter rang out once more, sincere and vast enough to engulf the two of them and make him forget the unfamiliarity of the situation.

"As they all do."

Her finger danced its way up to his arm, agonizingly slow, like a little teasing insect, and Jack gulped hard. Never had he felt more thankful for a drink than when the bartender slid both rums across the table.

"What did you do? Hacked the president's phone and stole the nuclear codes? Plotted a communist revolution?"

"I stole four million dollars from the Bank of America... from a television set. Live audience and all."

She opened her eyes wide, two pearls shimmering with all the laughter and mirth that made him crazy for this unfamiliar country, and what might have been the tiniest bit of amazement, too.

"Really? Any chance I can find this on YouTube?"

"Probably. But please don't look it up, my hair was horrible that day."

She smiled, scoffed a little bit, bringing the glass to her lips — but her unwavering gaze remained on the mysterious foreigner and his alluring uncertainty, like someone who pretends to act all tough and detached to conceal a terrible secret. Jack only noticed she had edged closer to him when she set the glass down, and it was as though the dimly lit air of the basement had rearranged in a pulsating bubble around them, shielding them from prying eyes and the incessant laughter and music — a beating, amber heart.

She licked her lips, and he tried to keep his eyes from lingering on them too long.

"So, tell me. What does one do with that much money, exactly?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I thought I'd have a lifetime to figure it out. Moving to a beautiful country... starting a new life... meeting exciting people."

She leaned even closer to him, her arms resting either side of her frame, cupping her cleavage just enough for it not to be completely unintentional; Jack averted his gaze, but his cheeks caught fire at the thoughts that had possessed him for an instant. Who in this damn party thought it would be a good idea to turn the heating on?

"What's your name, mister millionaire?"

She purred in a low voice, yet all he could hear in the clandestine bar was her, the delicious cascades of salsa only playing in the back of his mind; with her head tilted to one side, her perfect lips curled in a devilishly interrogative question, her perfect fingers wrapped around her drink, she was a tigress on the prowl... and Jack had never been so eager to be a prey.

"Jack Wilder."

"Well, Jack... this is my turf. My rules. So I suggest you do precisely as I say..."

Her fingers skipping over the fabric of his shirt, each lingering imperceptibly longer than the last, sending a shiver shooting through Jack's every last nerve... she smiled again. A smile worth turning himself in for. A smile he would send it all to hell just to taste...

"Dance with me."

No sooner had he nodded than she had already leaped on her feet, unbothered by the creases and folds on her tight dress, and had extended a hand out to him. Far from it being broken, the equilibrium of their secluded conversation seemed to have followed her when she rose, as though she commanded the ochre shadows of the bar. Maybe she was much more than she let on. Maybe he wasn't the only one with a price on his head...

And he didn't know her name, but he would have danced a thousand dances only to hold her for a second, and take the lingering memory of her warm skin back to America with him.

He followed her to the center of the room, dazed by the languorous sound of a brass orchestra, and his breath hitched in his throat when she took his hand and placed it on the crook of her hip with a decided readiness.

"If you behave, I might show you around."

The music picked up, and her shadow on the bronze wall behind with it.

Jack was the elusive magician, a slither in the crowd, an illusion and a mist — but how could he behave when he had tangled himself in a dance, a furious heartbeat, a sorceress' nets?

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee @softeninglooks (all my writing)