#its about the disgust at the previous way of doing it -> doing it worse pipeline

[theosjunkdrawer]

Ok im starting a relisten to The Magnus Archives bc we managed to get my brother into it and I wanna get a refresh bc its been Years. And just. Does he know

Does he know im obsessed with him.

[lambiconic]

simon's finally got that date with the barista

if you havent, can i interest you in reading the first six: simon , gaz , johnny , price , the aftermath , the confrontation

(18+ you being angry at simon gets him the tiniest bit excited)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

After cleaning up the coffee beans you’d spilled on the floor in anger, you finally felt calm enough to try to talk things out with the four men.

Unfortunately, while you’d been crashing out in the back room they had leaving behind just a test message:

“This is Simon. Talk later.”

Despite your previous anger you couldn’t help but smile, its really cute that he somehow texts exactly how he speaks. 

…

The men spent the better part of a week debating (honestly arguing) over how to even bring up the idea of… sharing you.

Though.. the longer they talked about it, the worse it sounded. Not because they didn’t want you. God, they did. So badly. 

But, well, asking the same woman they’d all but cornered in her place of work and interrogated like you’d been married for 20 years with 3 children if she’d be open to dating all of them?

“Feels a bit... predatory, yeah?” Price had said at one point, frowning as he paced with uncharacteristic nervousness. 

“We already ganged up on her once,” Gaz muttered. “Now we’re coming back to say ‘erm actually we’d like to take turns, thanks’? Bit dodgy.”

“We could ease her into it!” Johnny proposed, “One date each. Give her time to realize we’re all *cough* mostly me *cough* amazing.”

 “So your plan is emotional whiplash in four acts??”

Simon, of course, offered nothing besides something about how if you laughed them out of that café, not a single word would leave his lips for weeks on end. Still, none of them backed down.

They just had to figure out how to say “Would you consider going out with all of us?” without sounding like a cult.

Easy. Right?

They came to the conclusion that Johnny was right, they needed to take you out. Try to woo you! Hopefully, that would make up for their ambush as well.

But who would go first? 

Johnny concluded that because he was the only one who had actually asked you out on a date, he should be first!

But, no no, Price should go first! He was the most mature! You need a sexy, mature, older man to lead you into this.

Gaz didn’t care, he was convinced you’d fall for him the fastest no matter where he stood in line.

And Simon— wait where the hell is Simon?

Simon wasted no time slipping out of the room. He had somewhere to be. 

And, like clockwork, Simon showed up at noon on Tuesday. He didn’t say much, just leaned against the counter like always, watching you work in silence. But this time, you were silent too.

Not the calm, flirty kind that matched his silent he was used to. No. You were giving him the silent treatment.

And he definitely deserved it. And he kind of liked it.

Your narrowed eyes. The dramatic scoff when he handed you a full $50 bill for a tip instead of his usual $10. The way you didn’t even try to mask your irritation with your usual sweet smile.

It wasn’t your customer service charm… it was all you, properly pissed off.

And strangely? That made him feel closer to you. At least this meant he still mattered enough to you to be met with something real. 

And there was something about that slight look of disgust in your eyes that had heat pooling low in his stomach and him forced to drop a hand to his crotch in hopes no one could see his growing… problem.

“Can I…” he started quietly, just as you slid the cup across the counter. 

Unfortunately for him, you turned right back around. He cleared his throat, his eyes locked on your back. “Y/N..?”

You didn’t stop what you were doing., offering a dry little ‘hm?”

He swallowed hard. “Can I… can I take you out?”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, you glared at him over your shoulder. “Pardon?”

He blinked. Panic hit (and there was that warm feeling in his groin again). Then, like it was rehearsed, he reached behind his back and held something out.

A wildflower. Well, a weed. Obviously tugged from the sidewalk out front, roots still dirty. But somehow, in his trembling hands, it looked about as pretty as the large bouquets Johnny kept offering you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

His voice was tight, and you noticed now how his fingers were shaking. Like he was expecting you to laugh in his face. “I… we can do whatever you’d like. If you’ll give me a chance.”

The weed was already wilting in his hand but he kept it cradled in his palm like it was worth his weight in gold. 

His head stayed bowed, jaw clenched, and the other hand curled into a fist behind his back, nails digging into his palm to keep from shaking.

After what felt like an eternity he saw your hand reaching out and carefully taking the small flower from his palm. “When are you free?”

His head shot up, eyes wide as they locked with yours. “I–I’ll have to check! I can text you. Just… I will text you.”

He continued to ramble, promising again and again that you'd hear from him as he stumbled backwards toward the door, his now-cold coffee clutched in hand.

He’d done it. He asked you out. He’s going on a date. With you.

Outside, he let out a breathless laugh and gave himself a small, victorious pat on the back, his thumb brushing over his name on the cup. His small personal treasure. A symbol of this joyous moment.

But then he paused.

Squinted.

“She spelled my name wrong..”

You may have an attitude problem.

…

Simon was a pretty blunt texter, you’d learned. He also started every single text message by stating it was him.

‘This is Simon. Would you like to go for dinner?’

‘This is Simon. I’ll send a list of restaurants. Pick what interests you.’

‘This is Simon. Don’t look at any prices. Leave your wallet at home.’

‘This is Simon. Eight sound good?’

‘This is Simon. Leaving out now. Excited to see you. Leave your wallet at home.’

‘This is Simon. At the entrance.’

You watched him for a couple seconds from your car, partially to feel out the situation and partially because you drove over in flip flops and needed to switch to heels.

Simon looked.. Nervous. A side of him you’d seen a lot of in the past few weeks but now it was at an all time high. It was like he didn’t know where to put his hands.

He tugged at his collar, checked his watch, ran his fingers through his slicked back blonde locks over and over. 

He seemed to perk up like a dog as he saw you approach, his jaw slack and his hands now suddenly folded in front of him. “Y/N.. you look—you look…you are—”

“Hi..” You interrupt as you come to a stop in front of him, “Were you out here long?”

“No! He said, quickly offering you a hand. “Been here for two minutes at the most..” 

He opened the door for you, his hand on the small of your back. “You’ll like it here..”

Once seated, Simon stared at the menu blankly, sneaking glances at you every few seconds.

“You good?” you asked, raising your eyes from your own menu. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, setting the menu down. “Just… tryin’ to figure out how to talk to you. I really like you. We all do.”

“We..?” You repeat, non committedly as you run your finger over the menu.

“Yknow.. Johnny, Gaz–suppose you call him Kyle, and uhh Price–John..” He stutters out. “We all really like you.”

You didn’t look up right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch just long enough for Simon to start shifting in his seat. His fingers tapped nervously against the edge of the table, like he was bracing for you to stand and walk out. He always seems prepared for the worst around you.

Finally, you looked up from menu. “You all talk about this together?”

He nodded slowly. “Not at first, per our.. ambush. But… yeah. Eventually. It wasn’t exactly avoidable.”

You let out a quiet breath, straightening in your chair. “So what is this, then? A group interview?”

He snorted, caught off guard, and the tension in his shoulders eased. “More like… an application process.”

“And you’re the first brave soul to show up?”

“Might not be the brave one. Might just be the most desperate.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to impress me?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “But I was hoping this would.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small, setting it gently in front of you on the table.

A little wildflower. This one wasn’t wilted. Still clumsy, still a little dirt clinging to the roots, but fresher. Something he clearly went out and searched for.

You stared at it for a moment before your lips stretched out into a grin so wide your cheeks started to hurt. “Oh.. you are ridiculous.”

He smiled. “Yeah. But you haven’t told me no.”

You reached out, taking the flower. “…What night are the others taking me out?”

Simon grinned. “I’ll let ‘em know you asked.”

[whispereons]

Insecurity [Fem Reader x Yandere Male]

Masterlist

Warning! This is a VERY self indulgent yandere fic. Describes stalking and creepy behavior. Long descriptions of body shaming and (you guessed it) insecurities done by the reader. Done in one take and not edited very well.

Brains and brawn may compete to be superior. But it was beauty that triumphed both.

Beauty that you craved. To be beautiful, to be seen as attractive. Hell to even have someone think that you just made the cut to be 'cute' would be all you need.

Yet you never got a second glance your way all your life. The people around you, your friends, your family, even strangers on the street looked better then you.

Were you too fat? Too skinny? Disproportionate? Maybe your cheeks were chubby or gaunt.

You didn't know and every glance in the mirror was a scathing reminder of what was wrong with you, with your face, with your body.

A new flaw was found each time and the previous ones only grew worse.

It began small when you were just young enough to notice that pretty people were treated differently.

At first it didn't bother you, you would hit puberty, you would get that magical glow up sometime soon.

But those hopes grew dimmer with each passing day. Sure you changed but it was basically for the worse. Now you looked and felt awkward in your own body.

People you were interested in laughed around your friends freely and only gave a hesitant pitying chuckle or hum when you spoke. Right before going back to your friends without another glance as you would stare at the floor and worry if you said something bad or if you just looked bad.

But your friends had completely different genes then you. Surely it could just be an ethnicity preference right?

Nope, you were proven wrong when family members your age with similar enough skin tone or eye shape or lip shape or anything else you had who had no problem attracting people.

‘You shouldn't judge a book by its cover.’ 

‘The right person will like you for you and not your looks.’

Sayings that you took to heart to console yourself but it was like poison to your brain and heart.

The thoughts mutated from picking at your body to your personality too. Yet you still tried to be presentable in some way.

Scrubbing your body every shower till the skin was raw red. As many products you could get a hold on to treat the stubborn acne that just wouldn't go away. Plucking any out of place hairs on your face and shaving anything that could cause people to even think of you as hairy.

The only thing you didn't touch was the makeup that was tempting yet scary to you.

You heard everyone talk about it. Other girls bragging about how they snagged a hot guy with the right makeup. Only for the guys to whisper their disgust at their bare face.

Girls complaining about the increased acne and costs of make up. Guys praising about how ‘natural’ their girlfriends were when you could see the layers they had on, clearly unable to tell the difference.

Pros and cons were thrown all around but whenever you asked if make up was good or not, you recieved the same damn answer.

‘The right guy will like you for you. With or without makeup.’

You weren't oblivious to how neither told you that you were beautiful just the way you were.

The only ones who did were the sought after attractive women who only said it to console you in some way.

In the end you waited too long. By the time you got the courage to seriously try, you were out of high-school and too deeply involved in life to have time to struggle and fail.

It only ate away at your conscious but the fear of being ridiculed and laughed at for wearing bad makeup that made you even uglier then you already were was enough to stress you to tears.

What could you do but give up?

Maybe you were better off this way. 

Alone you weren't going to be hurt in a relationship. 

Alone you couldn't cry over your nonexistent boyfriend's insults when you fight.

Alone you would never be validated in your sinking thoughts of what a failure of person you were.

That's probably why you could never feel validated in whether you were attractive as you matured. The self loathing thoughts and feelings grew but you kept it locked away. 

Mirrors were scarcely seen and photos were always refused or just ignored. It was like the insults were written on your face for all to laugh at.

So why the hell were you the one targeted by some random guy in your college to be stalked?

This wasn't the first time you've seen him but this was definitely the closest he's ever come to you as you sit in a library just a table away from him.

His eyes were still on you as you stared nervously at your computer screen. You haven't been able to type a single word since you noticed his presence.

Subtly you looked up and scanned the room just to take another peek at him.

Yup, he was attractive as hell. Way out of your league.

Handsome, fit, and tall. He's got it all yet he's watching you with a smile that borders between sexy and hungry.

He's got the serial killer vibe down to the art cause that's the only fucking reason he could be stalking you for the past few weeks. 

It was around a month ago that you actually noticed him. Simply brushing off his glances as something he was directing to your friends.

After you left to the bathroom and came back you locked eyes with him. He kept that stare up even as you blushed and looked away.

It didn't even occur to you that he thought you were attractive, you just thought that you had food staining your lips.

Sitting back with your friends, you couldn't push down the feeling of being the ugly duckling as you all laughed at a joke yet yours was like nails on a chalkboard.

Loud, out of tune and unwanted.

It took a week for you to note the footsteps behind you whenever you walked back to your car after late night classes.

When you noticed that it was him again, you brushed it off thinking that he just had late classes.

His stares were probably just ones of worry since it was nearing midnight and you were walking alone. You had heard about him before, a kind man that was as charming as he was sweet.

An ideal man that you wouldn't suspect. Which only made the serial killer suspicion much stronger when you overheard him denying having classes on the days of your late night classes.

But even then it would be crazy to assume he's stalking you. At least until you saw his car parked just a block away from your house when you were positive he lived in a different city.

It was the weekend for crying out loud! There was no way in hell that he could be near your house every weekend.

But maybe he had family or friends or anything else attractive popular people had going on.

Besides if he was just normal and interested romantically, he would be chatting up your friends. If he was a serial killer then he would still be targeting your friends. You've never heard of a serial killer who only targeted ugly people. 

You'd rather be a surprise suicide then be known as a victim of a serial killer who's MO was ugly people. Even you had a limit.

But the anxiety over the situation was killing you. As a last ditch effort last week you decided to test something out.

Yesterday you loudly told your friends that you planned on doing some vigorous self studying tomorrow for the upcoming exam at the library. You knew that none of them would be able to make it due to their various personal responsibilities but that was the point.

And you were fucking right as he keeps his eyes on you when you knew he didn't have any classes today. And it's not like he's studying with his bag still on the chair and his lips sucking on the straw in the drink he had in his hands.

So what if you eyed the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp?

He's probably planning on using this opportunity to kill you since you're all alone. Might as well let your eyes feast on something good before your death.

Holding back your anxiety over how he'll slaughter you, you heard another student walk up to him and clap his shoulder.

“What's good man? Didn't expect to see you here today. Thought you told me that your next class wasn't till Monday?”

Fucking called it!

But before you could celebrate your minor and frankly bad news considering that you've been confirmed to have a serial killer on your trail, you heard your stalker respond.

“Nothing much, just came here to study while we still have time before the midterms.” He chuckled and you could only bite your lips in jealousy.

Damn him for having such a nice voice. It was smooth and rich, the kind of voice you knew would make anyone melt at the sound.

An all around 10/10 and you wished that you could take even half a point from him.

It was too much, the revelation that you're going to be murdered soon paired with having to hear your soon to be murderer having got the greatest luck in life to be attractive was too distracting.

Packing up quickly you tried to leave without being noticed as you caught the end of the conversation.

“You should come to my place for the weekend. I've invited a few hot chicks and-”

“Sorry, I've already got plans for the this weekend. I'll be real busy till the exam and maybe even then for a while. I'll catch you later though.”

Walking out the library you made a beeline for the campus exit when you heard the heavy footsteps of him close by. 

Damn it, you should have just stayed inside.

The streets weren't very crowded as a festival was being held on the other side of the city for some holiday you didn't care to remember.

Therefore it quickly became just you and him on the walk to the garage. The tight grip you had on your bag loosened as you tried to rationalize everything. 

Maybe he wasn't a serial killer and you were just paranoid. Everything could just be a coincidence that you're blowing out of proportion.

Getting to your car you fumbled with your keys as the sweat of your palms made it hard to sort through. 

Maybe you weren't fucked is what you would think if a large hand wasn't pressed against the rim of your beat up car from behind you as hot air ghosted your neck.

“Sorry if I startled you, you're Y/n right? One of your friends was talking to me about you.”

Stiff as a board you turned around and all the blood drained from your face at the way he towered over you.

Only for it to come rushing back and burn your cheeks as he leaned down. Pretty eyes stared into yours as his soft yet slightly curled hair framed his face.

His lips pulled into a smile as you leaned away till your back was touching your car as he asked. “Sorry if this is a bit sudden but I needed some help with one of my classes and she said that you aced it last semester.”

“Do you mind coming over to my place tomorrow to help me with it?”

You were so fucked.

This right here is mostly for myself but also for all my fellow insecure girlies who can't get behind certain portrayals of fem readers.

I recently read one that gave such a detailed description of a fem readers body who didn't tag it correctly and felt like shit after reading.

This isn't going to be serious, it's comedic mostly and pretty much self indulgent as warned above. It's also an outlet for me to finally get those stupid thoughts out of my head.

It's also a callback to the original reason I was attracted to yanderes if it wasn't obvious. Also I have no clue on what name or appearance aside from his hair to give him. So if anyone has any ideas go ahead and put them in the comments or send a ask so I can decide.

[jadefyre]

debugged: a Murderbot Diaries Comic by jadefyre

A big thank you to @blessphemy for cheering me on while I did the first draft of this back in, uh, July. And for giving me the perfect title :D

Now available on AO3!

Image descriptions are in ALT text but if you have trouble reading those, I'll include them here as well.

Page 1:

A title/splash page. Title reads: debugged, by jadefyre. Image is of an idyllic scene of a hill with a trail leading down it. The trail has a fence, and on the other side of the fence are grass, pushes, and a pond with a toad and some reeds and cattails. In the background are trees and two small figures cresting the hill. In the mid-ground is a drone with the effect text "whrrrr" next to it.

Page 2:

Panel 1: The same idyllic scene as the title page, now zoomed in on the area with the pond. The two people are now walking beside the pond: One is Ratthi, who is gesticulating and chatting, and the other is Murderbot, walking behind him, with its drones floating around its head as it looks over at the pond as the toad jumps into the water. Both have backpacks on and are apparently out for a hike.

Panel 2: A closeup of Ratthi, who is saying: "Thanks again for coming, by the way. I know you usually prefer more notice than this."

Panel 3: A closeup of Murderbot, who says: "I wasn't about to let you go alone into the wilderness." Coming from off-screen to the reader's right is a speech caption saying "bzzz"

Panel 4: Even more of a closeup of Murderbot, showing just the side of its head. On its right is a mosquito-like bug coming closer with the effect text "bzzz."

Panel 5: Back to the first closeup of Murderbot, who has the effect text of two exclamation marks next to its head. The bug has landed on its cheek with the effect text "*land*"

Page 3:

Panel 1: Murderbot squashes the bug, its eyes closed tight. The effect text "*splat*" is next to its swatting palm.

Panel 2: With a disgusted expression on its face, Murderbot is looking down at the squashed bug on its hand. Above it is a stylized ellipses, and it says, "Ew. There are so many bugs out here."

Panel 3: A closeup with Ratthi with Murderbot visible over his shoulder. Ratthi is saying, "Do you want some bug spray?" Murderbot has a blank expression stylized as two dots for eyes and a line for its mouth. There are a drone and a handful of bugs near it.

Panel 4: The panel refocuses on Murderbot, who has a stressed set to its mouth as it looks off to the side. It says, "Uh. No Thanks, that's even worse. I think."

Panel 5: A swarm of bugs going "bzzz, bzzz" hovers at the top left of the panel with an indicator arrow pointing at it and text saying (swarm). Ratthi is below, shrugging and saying, "Okay, suit your self." There an indicator arrow and text that says "bug-free" next to him.

Panel 6: The swarm seems to be dive-bombing Murderbot from the top left. Murderbot backs away to the right with its hands up while saying, "Uhhhh..."

Page 4:

Panel 1: A closeup of a couple of Murderbot's drones, as well as some bugs. The text says, in a console-style monospace font: ">> drone_swarm, new directive: seek (image of bug), destroy: (image of bug), > initiate_"

Panel 2: More drones and bugs. The drones turn toward the bugs with a crosshair with the effect text, "targeting" as the bugs buzz around.

Panel 3: Splash panel with a bold effect text in chunky font saying "bzzzz" in capital letters and a blast-caption shape around it. Murderbot is standing with its face covered by its hands as the drones attempt to eliminate the bugs with "pew pew pew" effect text and targeting crosshairs. More bugs are flying in from off-screen.

Panel 4: Closeup of Murderbot's face looking stressed. As the bug-drone battle rages on with "bzzz" and "pew pew" effects, Murderbot thinks, "There's too many, the drones can't get them all"

Page 5:

Panel 1: The same closeup as the previous page's fourth panel, now with an expressionless Murderbot as it dives into the feed. There are suggestions of lines of text flowing across its eyes to indicate this. A popup text box on the left side says: "database search: bug repellent." the bullet point list beneath it says: "spray, cover bare skin, citronella candles, high-frequency tones"

Panel 2: A full-body shot of Murderbot with the same two dots and a line expression on its face as a drone and a bug circle it.

Panel 3: The same shot, but now Murderbot's head is pointing to the right, its mouth is open comically wide, and it emits a frequency (evoking the image of a bat with echolocation) at the bug, which has the effect text "*urk*" next to it.

Panel 4: A closeup of the bug amidst the frequency lines and an ellipses over its head.

Panel 5: The same closeup of the bug, but now it has turned around and goes buzzing in the other direction.

Page 6:

A full-page picture. At the top are a multitude of featureless dots indicating the bug swarm, with a few detailed bugs in the fore- and midground, and below them, Murderbot is walking, surrounded by drones emitting the same frequency lines as Murderbot did before. There are no bugs near Murderbot. A handful of indicator arrows point at the drones with the text, "emitting frequency only bugs and SecUnits can hear." An indicator arrow points at Murderbot with text saying, "filtered out that frequency from its audio."

Page 7:

Panel 1: "Later…" Murderbot is hanging out while its drones emit the bug-repelling frequency. An indicator arrow points at Murderbot with text saying, "watching media outdoors, bug-free." Secunit 3 approaches from behind with a question mark over its head. It says, "1 point-oh, what is wrong with your drones?"

Panel 2: Murderbot turns toward Three as its drones power down with effect text that says "zhewww". Additional effect text says ">> drone_swarm, pause" as Three continues looking at Murderbot.

Panel 3: Murderbot and Three continue looking at each other. Murderbot says, "Well, uh…" while Three raises a skeptical eyebrow.

Panel 4: The same shot, but now with a "bzzzz" sound effect across most of the top of the panel. Murderbot says "Nothing" as it and Three are being swarmed by bugs to the point where it's hard to see them. Three looks shocked and says, "Ack! Turn them back on! Turn them back on!!!"

Page 8:

Panel 1: "Later still…" Murderbot and Three are represented as floating heads with no background detail or bodies. They are surrounded by multiple instances of an "eee" text effect, as well as drones that do not appear to be emitting the frequency. Murderbot says, "So apparently the frequency thing only works on bugs from this specific area" and Three says, "That's weird, I wonder why"

Panel 2: Murderbot turns to Three and says, "I bet Ratthi would know. Turn off your sound shield, I'll comm him." Three says, "I don't have mine on. I thought you had yours on."

Panels 3–5 are in a row. In order, Murderbot first looks blankly at Three, then it looks down, and then its eyes get wide as it continues looking down.

Panel 6: A splash panel showing Murderbot and Three seated next to a bunch of frogs while their drones hover around their heads. All of the frogs are saying "eeee," while one of them catches a bug. The rest of the bugs are fleeing the scene. A text box reads: Preservation screaming toads: natural predator of the Preservation mosquito."

End of comic.

(I'm not very skilled at captioning so if there's something I've missed or should've done different please (kindly) let me know!)

[temis-de-leon]

Goth/Punk Male!MC

Characters: Mammon x male!MC (established relationship)

Main Masterlist

Requested by Anon: Hello! :D Love you’re writings!! I was wondering if you could Mammon with a Male MC that’s more goth/punk, in both fashion and music. Mammon was always hinted at to lean more towards favoring rock music (stuff similar to that) so I would love to see how it would play out! Hope you have a wonderful day :)

.

To say that nothing you could do would ever impress Mammon was an understatement.

Even if you surpassed the average human life expectancy and did a new thing every day, he was still a demon, and an old one at that.

Sure, you could teach him how to use a Roomba, but would he bother to act surprised if you told him about that half-naked man you saw in a dirty bathroom, passed out drunk next to cockroaches and rats, like a fucked-up Santa Claus? He would probably retaliate with an even worse experience from one of his outings with Asmo; and you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear those types of things.

The fact that witnessing death was a real possibility in the hardcore clubs of the Devildom was enough knowledge for you.

Still, there was a childlike excitement inside of you that leaped with joy whenever you managed to catch your dear boyfriend off guard, usually when he drank a bit past his limits. It didn’t happen often, and, normally, you were too drunk yourself to take notice of those little instances, but the moments you did were treasured deep into your heart. For example, there was that time you both saw an incubus gently handfeeding a slice of pizza to a succubus laying down against a leaking garbage can; which wasn’t the most bizarre thing you could’ve seen downtown, but it was weird that it happened as you were sharing your first kiss.

It had felt oddly intimate and addictive, like staring into another person’s home.

Sadly, none of the concerts you had gone together to in the human realm had been even half as interesting as a regular weekend in the Devildom.

Including the one you were in right now.

The warehouse was way past its recommended capacity, you were sure, and, if a fire were to appear in the middle of the pit, half of the audience would already be dead by the time the other half would find out. It was stacked to the brim, full of both the nicest and the nastiest folk that could ever live, and it smelt like a disgusting mix of body odour, weed, alcohol, piss, and God knows what else.

You had been able to ignore the stench for most of the concert, but the band was currently drinking their body weight worth of what you could only call antiseptic, and who knows how long it would take until they decided to sing again.

Stepping outside and breathing the sweet air of the outdoors had been Mammon’s best idea so far.

“I thought I was drowning back there” he gasped dramatically, proving your point.

His voice was too loud, but being able to hear him over the ringing in your ear was already a miracle.

You chuckled in response and grabbed his hand to drag him further away, jumping over unconscious bodies and carefully avoiding those who didn’t seem too aware of their situation. Their absent gazes gave you the creeps.

“There were too many people” you admitted, voice loud as well.

Quickly, Mammon quickened his pace until matching yours, grinning widely despite his previous predicament and letting go of your hand only to place an arm over your shoulders. Thankfully, the scent of his expensive cologne was still noticeable over the sweat.

“Do you wanna go back?” he asked, too casually.

The tone of his voice made you look at him with squinted eyes.

He was obviously tired and spent, but looked hyperaware of everything; his deep breaths didn’t match the bewildered look in his eyes or the tension in his muscles. You guessed it had to do with the fact that you had lost each other at one point during the night, too deep into the music to realise that your bodies weren’t close anymore, and finding one another after the song ended had been borderline claustrophobic.

“Why don’t we explore a little bit?” you said, using your chin to point at the vast nature ahead of you. It was dark and, possibly, full of critters; not the Devildom, but close enough.

Just as you expected, Mammon sighed, making a point to roll his eyes before guiding you deeper into the littered prairie.

“The things the Great Mammon does for his human…”

“We could go back if you want”

“No, we’re already leaving”

You chuckled at his ridiculousness, letting him lead the way as the warehouse slowly disappeared in a cloud of smoke, dim lights and distant yelling.

The chains hanging from your belt loops made a soft noise with each step, clinking with each other and with Mammon’s own accessories. His clothes were similar to his demon form attire, except more of his skin was covered and the style gave a more ragged impression. The leather hugged his body nicely, and your eyes appreciated what the tight fabric insinuated.

“I like your outfit” you murmured, teasingly, bumping his hips with yours and chuckling when he almost tripped in return.

“I knew you would” he answered, pinching your sides until you cringed away. “I wanted to match you… Hey! You threw one of your chains away!”

“Huh?”

You looked down, confused, and stared at the multiple beads and trinkets hanging from your trousers. Some were from the Devildom and others from the human realm, self-bought, hand-made or gifted; but you could tell which one he was referring to.

It was the heavy metal cross you got a few years back from a sketchy dude at another concert without thinking twice, slightly overpriced despite the quality. By the time you got to the Devildom, the edges were red and it stained your skin green, and almost all the brothers had demanded you threw it out immediately.

You didn’t have any plans to do so, mainly because you liked it, but also because you wanted to pissed them off; especially Lucifer. The only reason you finally complied was Mammon’s insistence on the matter.

“Well, someone said he couldn’t grab my waist as long as I wore it”

“It burnt my hand!” he whined with a pout.

“It wasn’t even in my waist, Mammoney” you refuted, frowning with no real annoyance.

“It was close to it”

His childlike sulk made you chuckle again, and he couldn’t resist grinning back.

The air around you smelt like flowers and dust, a far cry from what filled the warehouse, already way behind you. You allowed yourself a moment to stop and admire the scenery around you both. There was a pond with murky water not far away, and the crickets took no time in replacing the loud music from before.

Slowly, you felt Mammon bend down to kiss the top of your head. He dragged his lips to your ear and spoke in a cunning whisper.

“Wanna go back to the car and make out?”

You huffed, faking offense.

“I thought you’d never ask”

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez

[amyluvshamzah]

PUSHING IT DOWN

(and praying)

summary: you finally have a new boyfriend after you and hamzah had broken up but you cant stay away from him for long.

contains: the fic of pain and despair, sex? ig its not rlly smut (all consensual ofc but not with hamzah), ANGSTTTTTTTTTT, mental health talk (depression), mental cheating, ex!hamzah, crying, lowk sad but its okay the ending is good

you and hamzah used to be a 'thing.' but now all you are to him is an ex. the break up was messy and yet you cant seem to get him off your mind. everytime you try to move on and find someone new, hes there, in the back of your mind. your social media is always feeding you updates about him as hes gained a lot of popularity on youtube and tik tok. and that obviously doesnt help your case.

but its almost been 6 months of no contact with the man who you used to love and you finally found someone new.

──── ୨୧ ────

you grab liams hand, your newest boyfriend, and lead him into your bedroom. you called him over after feeling needy and desperate for someones hands on you.

you sit on the bed, his body perfectly stood between your legs. his hand comes up to hold the side of your neck as he comes down to kiss you. its a little too soft for your liking.

you lean into him, trying to tell him more. he doesnt get the memo.

you pull him down onto the bed and climb on top of him, straddling his lap. no words are exchanged as he pulls of his shirt.

you shouldnt compare. especially not this poor guy to him. but you cant stop yourself.

hamzah had a more defined and toned chest. the best youve ever seen. you mentally slap yourself for even thinking this way.

"hey, you here?" liams voice cuts through your disgusting thoughts. you pull your lips into themselves and nod, forcing a smile. you lean down, closing your eyes as you kiss his neck. your hips grind against his yet he just lays there.

"get on top of me." you whisper in his ear, climbing off of his body to lay down next to him. you pull off your flimsy clothes and you end up naked with him inside of you.

he presses his lips into yours, his hands squeezing your breasts roughly. he thrusts into you quickly and sloppily, not bothering to pleasure you.

"slow down just a bit." you whisper between his lips. he slows his movements, pulling away from the kiss. "whats wrong?" his face contorts into one of frustration.

you bite your lip and shake your head. you try to hide the frown trying to make its way onto your face. he rolls his eyes, continuing his previous thrusts.

he eventually cums and you never do. "that was good." he laughs between breaths. you force a smile, standing up to go to the bathroom to relieve yourself.

as you stare at yourself in the mirror you cant help but let a tear slip. you feel disconnected from yourself.

more tears fall and you eventually hear the boy leave your house as you sit on the cold tile floor.

alone.

again.

you find your way out of the bathroom and put on hamzahs old hoodie that hung in the back of your closet.

you feel empty.

you find your phone resting on your bedside table. you pick it up, hands shakey.

you have the phone pressed to your ear, each ring going straight to your heart.

"hello?" his deadpan voice cuts through the speaker.

"hamzah." you breathe. hes silent for a moment, probably processing what is happening.

"i need you." you whisper. you dont want him to hang up. itll only make it worse.

he sighs audibly into the phone.

"ill be there in five." he says, cutting off the call. your heart breaks as you realize what youve done.

6 months gone down the drain.

6 months of healing.

6 months of trying to shut off that part of your heart that aches for him every moment of your life.

you lay back on your bed, his hoodie and underwear being the only thing on your body.

you close your eyes and breathe. in through your nose, out through your mouth. thats all you do until you hear your front door open and close, his heavy footsteps come to stand at your bedroom doorway.

you feel his presence before you open your eyes.

"im sorry." you mutter, curling onto your side to look at him. you notice a look of guilt and pity on his face before he quickly hides it, walking over to you.

"i know you are." his soft voice constrast strangely with his words. he slips off his shoes and hoodie, climbing into the bed next to you.

"will you hold me?" you ask him, looking at him as he pulls the blanket over you. he bites the inside of his cheek, nodding hesitantly.

his familiar arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him. you rest your head on his warm chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat.

tears begin to fall from your cheek as you feel guilt rush through your soul. you bury your face into him, hiding yourself from the only person who really knows you.

"come here, baby." he whispers so gently yet it cuts through you like a knife. his words so special when you know you dont deserve them.

"im sorry." you sob. he pulls your weak body on top of his and holds you close and tight. like if he holds you tight enough he can squeeze your sadness out.

he knows you struggle. hes always been there to support you through these tough moments. thats why he was the one you called when you couldnt find yourself in the midst of the pain.

"shhh, youll be okay." he hushes your sobs, his manly hand stroking your hair as if thats what its made for.

his lips press against the crown of your head, staying there for a moment before he grabs your chin. you look at him through your wet lashes.

you stare at the man you know all too well. his newly blond buzzed hair and the sunken look in his eyes being the only thing you dont recognize.

"can-" he starts but his words are silenced as you press your lips to his. it feels like a breath of fresh air after drowning for so long.

his hand finds your hip, the other curls up in your hair. he moans into the kiss as if telling you hes been waiting for this as long as you have.

you only broke up because you knew you would ruin him. youd only drag him down with your struggles as you began hiding things from him and slowly ruining your own life. you didnt want him to hate you for that so youd rather him hate you for leaving him. you loved each other so bad, it hurt like hell but you couldnt bare to watch him slowly deteriorate from the weight of your struggles on his shoulders. so you left.

a tear falls down his cheek, falling onto the pad of your thumb. you pull away to look at him. he shakes his head, a pained expression on his face.

"just kiss me. kiss me so we can get this over with and we can go back to not talking again. you can go back to your dumbass boyfriend and pretend you didnt call me cause he didnt make you cum. thats why you called me right?" he pants, you now sitting next to him as hes sat upright. tears stream down his cheeks as his sharp words stab you right in the heart.

"hamzah." you say his name to ears that wont listen as he stands, tearing off his clothes. "hamzah, no!" you shout, standing up next to him as you grab his shoulders.

"why do you do this to me?" he breaks down, dropping his head into his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"im sorry, hamzah. im so sorry. im so sorry." you mumble again and again, wrapping your arms around his shaking shoulders.

"it wasnt meant to be like this. i didnt plan this. i just... i miss you so bad." you whisper the last words, knowing theyll hurt him.

"if you miss me so much then whyd you leave me? huh? you dont know what ive been through these past months. ive been searching my soul trying to find the reason as to why you left me and i still dont understand. so now im just a mess." he says.

"im a mess. i dont know why but i still love you. after all this time. i still want you." his words break you.

"hamzah... it wasnt meant to be this way. i wasnt mentally stable enough for a relationship. especially not with someone like you. youre too good and i couldnt ruin you-"

"well you did!" he shouts, standing. he paces around your room. his boxers the only thing left on his body. you notice how slim hes gotten.

"im sorry. how can i make it up to you?" you beg, watching him from your bed.

"get professional help." he says finally. he stops to look at you, seriously look at you.

"get help. so we can be together without anything between us. we can work together to be happy. i just dont want you to be with anyone else but me. no matter what that takes."

"call him." he says after a pause.

"who?" you ask as you watch him grab your phone. his face id is still saved as it opens right away for him. his eyes flick to you at the realization.

he shakes it off, finding liams contact and calling him.

"do you want to do it? or do you want me to?" he asks, referring to the call with liam.

"ill do it." you say, standing with him. you grab the ringing phone and press it to your ear.

you want to show hamzah that you want this. that youll fight for him.

liam picks up the phone. his slurred voice speaks.

"what'd y'need?"

"were done." you say, hanging up. hamzahs eyebrows furrow as he watches you.

you block liams number and place your phone back on the table. youre both quiet for a moment as hamzah eyes your every movement, trying to gauge a reaction from you.

"ive always only wanted you." you whisper, climbing into his lap. a small smile finds hamzahs lips, a matching one on yours.

"i could feel it." he says, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to him. you relish in his grip. you finally feel happy.

"i think ill always love you." you say, leaning into him. you hold his face in your hands. the hands that missed his touch so bad.

"i know ill always love you." he whispers before pressing a firm kiss to your lips.

──── ୨୧ ────

hey... so how do we feel about this one.......... not smutty just very much sad. this one came from the heart so i hope yall like it.

(i deleted my old posts bc i didnt feel like they were me yk? sorry guys)

i love you - amyluvshamzah

GIMME RECS ill try my best to do them

[tesalicious2]

Why you don't prank the Guard commanders

Since they are almost constantly tired and at the end of their rope, anything could set them over the edge and no one wants that

not only that but they will usually react very strongly because of their extenuating circumstances and it is often blown out of proportions

HOWEVER, the other battalions don't know that and just want to help their brothers have fun! what's wrong with that

THIRE:

Thire got off a three day mission with General Yoda that ends up with Thire covered in some giant monsters stomach fluids and snot

He had to sit in it for a ten hour ride back and is humilated, with Yoda attempting to comfort him which only makes it worse

On his way back to the HQ, some troopers from the 104th decided to hit a guard with fake slime, a funny little prank

When Thire is at the end of his rope, he goes for violence

Thire waltzes into the mess, calls out whoever pranked him, and proceeded to dress them down, chew them up, and spit them out in front of everyone in the entire mess (made up of a few battalions and some Padawan Commanders)

It boiled down to 'you morons, i will kill you, you tiny roaches are nothing to me and i will throw you in the trash compactor like the disgusting garbage you are' with much more colorful and degrading language thrown in

Many now fear Thire and Wolffe outright refuses to work with the man out of fear

STONE:

Stone had just stopped three prison riots, captured two escapees from said riots, updated the entire security system, and hadn't slept because of the previous items for four days

Some men from Kit Fisto's SCUBA battalion thought it would be funny to hide some of Stone's stuff that was in his office (ie, datapads, pens, etc) and moved his stuff three inches to any side

Stone, who usually just jumped onto the coach in his office with the lights off, missed the middle and went to far up and smacked his nose on the wooden arm of the couch and cracked a tooth

This was not a fun way to cap the last four days

He found the troopers and filled their SCUBA tubes with spiders for them to find when they shipped out. Too bad the spiders crawled onto their faces on the ship and not in the water :(

THORN:

Thorn had been assissting senators for three full days with only 5 hours of sleep while standing throughout meetings

He had been ready to sleep and was heading to his last meeting with General Kenobi and some of his troopers present

Wooley and Longshot decided to lighten the mood by setting their voice coders to a different language and telling him he was going crazy

They also removed the nonslip pads from the couch and it slid out from underneath him

This may not have been bad at all but after three days, every little thing is annoying as shit and exhausting

After that meeting, Thorn decides to take revenge

Thorn is a believer in you get what you give so he does something harmless

relatively harmless

He sneaks onto the 212th barracks on the ship and places a speaker into the vents of the barracks, above Wooley and Longshots bunks (as close as he could get, the sound reverbs so everyone is pretty mad about this prank)

Every so often, in random intervals (no more than 4 hours, no less than 1 hours) a beep would sound, not too loud but loud enough to be annoying after 2 days

At night, it gets louder and more frequent and quieter during the day

Many troopers lose sleep over finding the thing (Thorn literally unscrewed wall panels to hide it), its been 3 weeks and they arrive at their new battle field in a week

Four days before their arrival, as the speaker is about to die, in the middle of the night, the speaker goes to full volume and shouts 'THIS IS COMMANDER THORN. I MAY BE THE CAUSE OF YOUR SLEEPLESSNESS BUT LONGSHOT AND WOOLEY STARTED THIS. I WILL DO IT AGAIN ASSHOLES. THE SPEAKER IS GOING TO DIE SO ENJOY YOUR *TEMPORARY* FREEDOM. HAHHAHAHAHAH-' and then the speaker dies (Thorn hacked the cameras and enjoys playing the screaming arguments and shouts at the speaker during rough days)

Longshot and Wooley never hear the end of it

FOX:

Fox had been going through hell the entire week and he was ready to kill someone, even though his shift wasn't over yet.

Jesse, Fives, and Hardcase had decided to help Fox lighten up by shooting him with silly string throughout the day, switching armor with blank armor to keep hidden

Fox was paranoid and had to be sedated. He eventually tracked down the three and had his revenge not through their own annoyance

At first, he replaced their weapons with modified silly guns that quickly ended, leading them to believe they were free (the whole revenge lasted an hour ish as the three enjoyed playing with the silly string)

Unknown to them, Rex's entire room had been filled with silly string, his blasters, the padding in his matress, the drawers in his dress, the hair wash was liquid silly string, the soap was frozen strong, his pillow, his chair was broken then 'welded' back together with silly string and fell apart when he sat on it, etc.

He kept finding it and it lasted for days, the moment he thought it was over, more string came up. He was paranoid, everything was silly string

When he finally complained to the command chat, Fox told him that Jesse, Hardcase, and Fives caused it and that he overheard them planning it

When Rex punished them, they said they never did anything with silly string but many others saw them spraying each other with the silly string FOX pranked them with so everyone assumed they were messing with the leftovers from Rex's prank. Not only that but they weren't quiet about pranking Fox so everyone thought he was the warm up for Rex.

No matter what they said, Rex didn't believe a word and they were stuck on latrine duty for a whole month

When Rex found out about Fox getting pranked as well, Rex let them get punished by him too

Fox made them clean out all the massiff kennels and play areas, cleaning any stains from the puppies and getting used for bite practice by the adults everyday for their next leave.

Fox came by and watched them everyday, laughing at their misery

HOUND:

Hound loves pranks and jokes and will happily engage and laugh at them

however, the timing has to be right and most don't get that part (only the other ARF troopers know)

Some troopers from the 41st took his bed sheets and pillows and blankets and towels after some of his troopers and Hound ended a four hour chase through the sewers (they didn't know about the chase).

Hound normally would've thought this was hilarious but after spending two hours covered in sewage looking for towels around HQ just to shower, he was pretty mad

After cleaning up and ready for bed, he snuck into the 41st barracks and woke them up with a growling, snarling grizzer leaning over their face and a hand over their mouth.

He whispered, 'don't scream, you touch my shit again, I will end you and everyone you love.'

Rinse and repeat then he sneaks away

[smittenmeraki]

I know that everyone wants Jeremy to help Jean get over his fear of water. I know cannonically thats what is most likely to happen, however hear my out on my hc's that I think are reasonable.

TGR spoliers big time:

Ten steps back, it has been hinted at that Jeremy might crash his car. I believe that this is completely within reason and I can see it happening in the next book. 1. He has fallen asleep at the wheel more than once. 2. They worried about his constant lack of sleep and how much he has on his plate. 3. The apartment being even further than before 4. He is doing even more than previous years Ex: learning french, studing for LSAT (is that the correct abbreviation?? Law!) And 5. Teaching Jean how to be a whole human being on so many levels. Man's exhusted. So I can definitely see him crashing. Now the severity of this may very, if its late or raining or a million other things to make it worse. My brain is stuck on him flipping over a guard rail, but any type of crash can cause major injury which leads us to where this post is supposed to be. Jeremy crashing the car and everyone going to pick him up from the hospital. Maybe he even is unconscious when they get there and has all these machines, stuff Jean has never seen, he doesnt know what any of this does, he never got real medical help. So of course hes worried, his partner is breathing through a tube. A day or two later they bring him home (after heavy convincing, his mother lets him stay with the girls for the sake of making it to classes on time) Jeremy is benched for at least 5 weeks, concussion, sprains, pulled mucsles, etc. Day three of being out of the hospital and he feels disgusting. Painstakingly making his way to the bathroom to shower, Jean follows him, hovering his hands out in case he stumbles. Jeremy lets him help, leaning on Jean as he hobbles into the bathroom, but Jean doesnt leave when Jeremy turns on the water. A moment of awkward staring at each other, Jean asks if he needs help. Of course Jeremy is embarrassed, a little ashamed and wanting to do it alone out of spite, but Jean insists he could fall, benching himself longer, so he lets him help. Its awkward and neither know where to put their hands, Jeremy tries to wash himself at first, letting Jean keep him steady, but the sore muscles make it hard to clean his hair, so they switch. Jeremy holds at Jeans shoulders as Jean scrubs soap into his scalp. Jean stays as far out of the spray as he can, occasionally wiping the water off his face, but hes focused on helping his partner get better. It doesnt matter that hes scared because Jeremy is hurt and its miserable watching him struggle. Of course some of the fear is stomped out by the adoration and hunger he gets from the way Jeremy closes his eyes and contently hums at how Jean rinses out the soap. How can he be scared when Jeremy is using him as a crutch, tan freckled skin and blonde hair under his hands. The need to help his partner override the fear.

RAH I am so temped to actually write a fanfiction about this because it could be at least 4 chapters. ANYWAY, not sorry for more JereJean posts :D

[burningcheese-merchant]

Thinking about the Yandere Beasts, Mystic Flour is the one that seems more volatile. She's not only crazily in love but denies it. Which means she might do more to prove it and hurt Dark Cacao more, then maybe feeling guilt and trying to "make it up to him", but then feeling disgusted with herself. It's very complex and crazy and I love the idea.

It can be argued that it's that same denial that, ironically, makes her worse than the others, at least in a sense. I explained in a previous post that Mystic Flour is the only Beast who possesses any self-awareness; she KNOWS she is behaving irrationally, she KNOWS that this is fucked up and downright sick. She despises it all. She despises her friends for allowing this disease to infect their minds and hearts; their words and actions disgust her on a visceral level and she wants nothing to do with any of their shenanigans regarding their respective heroes. She despises Dark Cacao for casting this spell on her; for undoing all of her hard work, for making her take back every single step she took towards enlightenment, for forcibly tethering her to the material world once again and making her feel emotions she'd discarded (or thinks she discarded) ages ago: anger, envy, longing, selfishness, attachment. Dark Cacao has done the unthinkable: he has destroyed her apathy. No longer is she free from those meaningless notions; now she is as trapped and burdened as all those selfish beings she always sought to do away with.

...But she's burdened with self-awareness, unlike the others, and so she knows that, ultimately, this is all her own fault. Thus, Mystic Flour despises herself most of all, for it was she that chose to succumb to these feelings. It was she that chose not to act when Dark Cacao brought this burden upon her (really, he did nothing of the sort. She brought this on herself). It was - is - she, Mystic Flour, that allows herself to love and obsess over this man, this thief, this living affront to her beliefs and ideals. And in a desperate attempt to lighten this burden, she denies its very existence. She denies any attachment to Dark Cacao, even if it's clear as the pale fog that it's real and already unbreakable at this point. She denies it because she honestly cannot think of any other solution to the problem. She clings to what remains of her apathy because she sees no other way out.

...Yet still, in this selfishness of hers, even combined with her denial, she wants him. She longs for his company. For his touch, for his voice, for his handsome face. The Ivory Pagoda feels emptier than ever without him around. She does not seek him out - doing so will only make it worse - but she longs for him nevertheless. She selfishly hates those he cares about, for they take a spot in his heart that she selfishly believes belongs to her. She selfishly desires Dark Cacao in his entirety, only for herself, and no one else ever again. She selfishly places her anger onto others - her friends, Dark Cacao's loved ones, Dark Cacao himself - in a vain attempt at self-soothing. She selfishly wishes she could retaliate against Dark Cacao for all of this nonsense; for this godawful dependency she's developed. Then she shakes her head and chastises herself for this selfishness.

Love, deny love, get angry, seek retribution, regain clarity, feel self-loathing. Then start back over again ad infinitum. It's like a very bizarre cycle of grief, in Yandere Flour's case. And she only ends up succumbing to obsession and madness further with every completed loop.

(Yandere Flour is fun to think about and flesh out haha. thank you for the ask, I enjoyed your thoughts/commentary)

[whispering-woodlands]

Never have I watched a show that is supposed to showcase good representation and uplift people in the lgbtq community and those who are neurodivergent actually have the most homophobic/transphobic stereotypical conservative eyed perspective in such a horrible way than the Apple TV Murderbot show.

The portrayal of the Preservation Crew is terrible. They are written both like naive children and idiotic jerks. Polyamory is treated like a joke, with Ratthi and Arada making out and Pin Lee weakly trying to get between them making the scene beforehand of Pin Lee seeming to only want to start the relationship to make Arada happy even worse. Gurathin wants Murderbot dead right away, Arada MISGENDERS Murderbot??? Despite the fact throughout the entirety of the series Murderbot has never been referred to with the incorrect pronouns by anyone. Having someone from Preservation misgender it, another FLIRT with it, and then all of them talk about it repeatedly in such an insulting manner stomps on the fact that they are supposed to be better than the Corporates, that they are people Murderbot can come to care for and over time trust. In the books the Preservation crew treats Murderbot with respect even if they don’t understand everything about it and they did that BEFORE they knew it was rogue.

The show decides to have Murderbot left behind right after the worm rescue. Literally doing what Murderbot says it hated about its previous clients. Major points of time for Murderbot to bond with the crew is erased just to flatly try to up the stakes and fail. It is so ridiculously obvious that Murderbot is rogue that it just makes it look like the Preservation Crew are idiots while at the same time making it look like Gurathin, who is being set up as basically a villain, look like the only smart/rational one.

It’s not just the Preservation Crew who’s suffered, Murderbot’s character was massacred. As someone with ADHD and autism it’s downright insulting. Every single scene with Murderbot having no helmet focuses dramatically on its face and the fact it doesn’t want to make eye contact. This wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s paired with Murderbot constantly looking like a terrified fawn while some attempt at a joke/funny situation is happening. It comes across as a neurotypical perspective of it being something quirky and weird to laugh at especially with the constant over exaggerated expressions. Also having a major plot/tension point being Gurathin forcing Murderbot to make eye contact just comes across as ableist. They could have made it be Gurathin has it run laps or some other shit but no they target one of the main neurodivergent aspects of Murderbot and force it to break it. The insertion of comfort units into the conversation was also extremely out of place and frankly made it feel like the scene was building to something horrible before the topic was changed.

The pointless addition several sex jokes, flirting, and making Sanctuary Moon a primary focus of Murderbot’s have its first scene being about human and bot sex and the next one be about MORE sex??? When repeatedly in the books and even a later line in the show Murderbot describes how it hates shows like that? The acearo erasure is frankly disgusting, we have so little representation in any media and this is what. Murderbot saying showers and the crew going off to have sex is the bare minimum. A massive amount of its character is being erased to make it come across that it feels that way because it just finds humans gross not the reality that it is ACEARO. Murderbot being shown naked repeatedly when it’s completely unnecessary was completely out of place ESPECIALLY during the talk with Mensah.

I can already hear people running to say “But it’s only the first two episodes!” “It’s a brand new show don’t be negative!” “It’s just a different interpretation!” There isn’t an excuse for harmful stereotyping and representation especially in today’s world.

Before I get threats in my inbox cause I know how this fandom is let me answer a common suggestion “Just block the tag and don’t watch!” Great idea! I’m going to avoid this show like the plague now but it’s going to be impossible because people are going to mistag. Second, I can complain about whatever I want to and I think people SHOULD bring attention to harmful stereotyping.

[thomine]

noceur - thoma

x reader | 2.6k words | general audiences

miraculously surviving a near death experience should be celebrated except everyone reminds you that you came back wrong. everyone except... the person doing laundry with you late at night. [ noceur: a person who stays up late at night. ]

tags: comes back wrong trope, brief mentions of skipping meals, human resource malpractice, hinted mentions of abuse, blood and injury, near death experience, requested, not proofread

links: read on ao3 ⁎ read on sqw ⁎ author's notes ⁎ prompt list (closed)

note: this was completed during ficwip's retreat weekend! :D

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　 　 . ✦

The moment you open your eyes, memories of the previous night flood in.

Chinju Forest was shrouded in perpetual night as always. Luminous blue flowers decorated the river as tall trees let for a spectacular show of spotted moonlight. A beautiful scenery for a run, but you were not running for leisure. Your journey to find your missing father had turned into a chase.

Hilichurls loaded their bows and aimed as you fumbled your way deep into the forest. You tripped on a root and an arrow almost landed on your hand if not for your roll to the side. Before your escape, one of the monsters smashed your femur with its bat. It should have been fatal. It should warn you to return, but the adrenaline worked too well. When you fell, that pain shot through your body like the release of a tensed string. Whiz. Something cold pierced your right shoulder.

You didn't die immediately, of course. You wouldn't let yourself. Your father was still out there. Monsters were not match with his combat prowess, but it was useless against the tricks of the forest from curious bake-danuki or powerful yokai. You had to find him because he promised to tell you about your mother when the time was right. You had to find him because he would never abandon you either.

But even when the monsters left after having their fun, you stayed still. Not a single muscle could twitch.

As you laid, choking on blood and paralyzed by pain, the full moon shone on you like a limelight. You seemed to have drawn a presence, thick and soft fur covering your eyes like a mother's kiss. Accompanying the wind's timeless melody, a voice hums a familiar lullaby…

Beastly creature, no known keeper… Head to toe of fearful features… Plagued by longing like a fever… In solitude, world so blued, full of non-believers…

You sit upright, eyes squinting from the sunset. Raising your hand to block the light—

Wait… You have full rotation on your right shoulder. You can move your leg with no pain.

And the sun… You turn your head to see that you're not in Chinju Forest. Instead, you're a few centimeters beyond the toji gate guarding the entrance. A few hundred meters in is the rock where your search took a turn for the worse. It's surprisingly clear despite the foliage.

A shout runs across the sky. It is faint, but gets louder. The voice calls your name. Soon, you hear rushing footsteps—wooden sandals on cobblestone paths—but it's only after long minutes that a face emerges from the distance. When the lady notices your figure by the gate, you see the relief in her wrinkly smile as if she's standing in front of you. If you remember right, she's the head maid.

"You were missing for 3 days! Thank the shogun the guard on patrol found you," she cries, but as she nears, her light steps morphs into stomps. "Who do you think you are? Running off into the dangerous forest by yourself and making everyone worry? Your father already caused so much trouble with his disappearance, but they say you take after him so—"

She gasps, stepping back with wide eyes full of apprehension. Her hands cover her gaping mouth.

Is there something on your face? You tap your cheeks, your mouth and nose. Nothing stands out to you. Is it your teeth? Did you eat something disgusting and it's stuck in your teeth? Why does she look at you like you have an extra limb!

But her fear vanishes as rage takes over.

"You will compensate everyone for the work you abandoned. Quick, get on your feet." She grabs your wrist while her other hand covers her nose. You try to protest that your search was supposed to only be a day's affair, you definitely didn't plan to go missing, but your vocal chords are strangely strangled. "We have a lot to do before you meet the Lord. Taking a bath being the first."

Doing laundry was not the worse fate of a Kamisato servant, but it was proving to be just that.

The stench of aged bacteria freezes you in place and you still have a few meters to reach the basket of dirty clothes. Thankfully, the Kamisato Estate can afford strong detergent, so the broad pail of soapy water you've prepared fills the room in a clinical aroma peppered with artificial flora scents. You would have complained of its pungent scent if it was not the lesser of two evils.

No one liked laundry but it was an annoyance at most before your disappearance. This new experience was seriously shaking your sense of self. It didn't help that three days after your return, you bent a metal spoon while helping in the kitchen. Just yesterday, you freaked a colleague with your "glowing eyes". The room wasn't even that dark.

You hear your name. It is not said harshly. The surprise compels you to turn your head, apprehension on high.

"Still doing laundry at this hour?" Thoma, the housekeeper and once your close friend, says.

The strong smells of the laundry room must have rendered your senses numb. Usually you'll notice someone sneaking up to you. Guess your empty stomach twisting like a child throwing a tantrum is also an issue.

"Sir Thoma," you greet, giving a quick bow. You try to hide your frown as you do. When the head maid instructed you to do laundry at night, you hoped it decreased your chances of bumping into him. Not that you had—this is the first meeting since your return—but you wanted to be cautious. So much for your efforts. "It shouldn't be strange to see someone washing clothes at the end of the day."

"End of the day?" Thoma chuckles, lightly shaking his head. "It was the end of the day a few minutes ago. I believe you should be asleep at this hour." he continued.

"Did the head maid report of my absence?"

"Surprisingly, she reported a full house."

"She must have saw me take a nap and counted me in," you say closer to a statement than a question. "Either way, you shouldn't fret over a humble servant's duties."

"Why be so formal? I know we haven't seen each other in weeks, but that wouldn't make us strangers."

He walks pass you to pick up the laundry basket. Some soiled pieces fall as he lifts it, but he effortlessly bends and places them back, uncaring for the way it grazes his clothes.

"Please, there is no need." You snatch the basket from him with both hands, pressing it against your body for extra support. You aren't at your full strength and you're not going to make a fool of yourself. "I rested well so I have enough energy to get this done."

However, the proximity send a blast of stench that threatens to burn your lungs. You can't help but free one hand to pinch your nose. The basket tilts. Thoma is the reason why nothing spills on the floor.

"See?" He's almost smug about it."I think my help is very reasonable."

With one tug, he brings the basket at an angle and the clothes drop into the pail with minimal splash. Then, he grabs a chair and a washboard to start scrubbing.

You grab another stool from the stack he took his, placing it on the other end of the pail. In the silence, or as quiet as a night with singing crickets can be, you and Thoma scrub each piece of cloth. To focus on the task, you try to narrow on his scent.

His shampoo is undoubtedly the one people of Inazuma are raving about. Lauded for its strong and lasting aroma, evident by how its mint can rival the smell of dirty laundry at this hour. Still, an earthly and musky odor lingers on him. It is the scent of other canines. It's a mix only Thoma can pull off—

Wait, so what? You dig your hands deeper into the pail of cold water, as if that can cool the warmth in your face.

20 minutes in and you start the feel the effects of hunger. Your hands are shaking. You barely scratch the cloths against the washboard, but that's better than tearing it.

Another 10 minutes and Thoma leaves to change the water. You take a nap, hoping that can help you pull through.

Briefly, you dream of tricolor dango. As you sink your teeth in the snack, you taste a hazy rendition of milk tangled with the unique sweetness from sakura blooms and snapdragons. It's Thoma's signature dango. Another bite can't hurt but you're ripped away, a rude awakening by something tapping your head—

You nearly jump at Thoma. Fear flashes across his face and for a second you're back to the incident of last week. Blood on your nails. A terrifying scream. You didn't know you held them that tightly. Ruckus and chaos before the head maid stepped in and declared a new law for you.

Your stomach grumbles. You deserve it.

After mumbling an apology, you dive into work. Now you have to avoid thinking about how you wish he wasn't here and how you smell the sweet snack from your dreams.

Finally, after an hour and a half, both of you see the bottom of the laundry basket.

"This can't be a normal day's wash," he leans back and groans, wiping his face with his upper arm. "It is making me reconsider bathing twice a day," he jokes, probably noticing your uncanny quietness.

You offer a reserved toothless smile. Some colleagues say your "fangs" make you look terrifying, and scaring Thoma again is the last thing you want.

"No wonder laundry is always done in teams," he adds.

"Sir Thoma," you slow your pace of washing, most of whatever little energy you have directed to thinking of how to phrase your concern. "Why aren't you asleep? I don't take you as a noceur with how you have to wake up at the crack of dawn. Are you here because you pity me?"

"I was on my way to the kitchen when I saw you."

"I didn't know you eat supper."

"I don't. I was going to make a meal for you."

You pause, head hanging low. Thoma was the only person you willingly avoided, and yet…

"I heard the chefs were told not to cook dinner for you, which explains why I didn't see you in the dining hall."

"For a good reason," you say as you resume washing, showing him a delicately wrung towel. "This is only possible because of the head maid's orders."

"Still, it shouldn't be the way to do things."

"So you do pity me."

He calls your name, lovingly yet firmly.

"I don't pity you. I care for you." Thoma places his hand on yours, gently lifting it out of the soapy waters. Your nails are to"I couldn't sleep properly ever since you disappeared. I'm really glad you're back."

You pull your hand away, tucking it behind your back, and look at the floor. Your sharp and odd looking nails are harder to ignore with his as a clear comparison.

It doesn’t make sense. Your colleagues are always giving excuses to the head maid to avoid working with you. What you see in the mirror is a familiar face, but everyone points at you to claim otherwise. How could Thoma look at you in the eye and say the exact opposite?

"Thoma, I don't know if the person you're searching for is in front of you."

His face is scrunched by deep thought. Anxiety squeezes your chest as you wait for his response. Despite your new senses, you still can't read minds.

"I have a few questions for you then," he starts. Your heart sinks, although you fully expect suspicions. "Your father was a guard of the Kamisato Estate, yes?"

"…Yes?"

"You have a very close relationship with him but hardly know anything about your mother."

"Yes."

"You lived and served the Kamisato clan since birth, yes?"

"More like since I was a baby."

"And you wouldn't say no to my tricolor dango, would you?"

"What?"

He dries his hands by wiping on his attire, then unwraps a square box and reveals pink, white, and green glutinous balls pack neatly in a grid. It's messy in presentation, each ball being of a different size. Some are deformed to make way for others. It can't ever pass standards to be served to the Kamisato siblings. Still, there is a waft of freshly melted sugar and you feel heat emanating from it. That's what matters to you.

"Sorry, it's a bit squashed—Don't give me that look. I know you smelled it."

"I thought I was crazy!"

He hands it over as you try not to drool. You excuse yourself to wash your hands before returning, ready to ravenously finish everything.

"I'd have you know I would be insulted that's your criteria of me as a person under normal circumstances ." You chomp on a ball, closing your eyes to indulge in it. It's better than your dream, the flavors richer than you remember it to be.

"So what makes this not a normal circumstance?"

"This is too delicious. More chewing, less talking."

"See?" This time he's smug about it. "You're still the same person I know."

He grabs the remaining clothes in the basket and dumps them in soapy water. He doesn't start immediately though, his eyes lingering on you enjoying his dish.

Is there something on your face? Maybe you have dango around your mouth. Do you look silly gobbling his food? Why does he look at you like that? Fondness in his bright green eyes pairing with a smile so genuine it makes you giddy.

You hope your erratic heartbeat is not echoing in the room like how it is in your head. The detergent is suddenly more manageable than Thoma's scent.

He finally returns to the laundry, splitting the remaining amount in half. That prompts you to share your last tricolor dango which he accepts. With his hands buried under the water, he opens his mouth for you to plop a ball. With the box emptied, you join him, able to scrub with newfound strength.

"I can cook you something tomorrow. What would you like to eat?" he asks after swallowing the sweet.

"You'll be going against the head maid's orders. I don't want to cause you trouble."

"It's more trouble to deal with a hungry and irritated you than an angry head maid."

You did almost hurt him today…

"I'll try to do the laundry earlier too," you comment when he yawns, throwing the last cloth into the pile of cleanliness. "I'll be in bed before you so you have no excuses to make midnight trips to the kitchen."

He smiles and you mirror him, teeth and all.

"Great. Then we can definitely get it done on time for a good night's sleep, right?"

You don't protest, an answer of itself. A warm fuzzy feeling tumbles in your chest at the thought of doing laundry with Thoma tomorrow.

Once everything has been cleaned and hung, you bid him goodbye.

As you pass by a window, the bright full moon catches your eye. In the distance is the canopy of Chinju Forest. You recall that terrifying night. Your eagerness to reunite with your father. The strange comforting presence just before you awoke.

The wind sings that lullaby.

The last verse creeps into your mind as a distant memory of your mother singing to you.

But the wait will not make you weaker… Dream a dream little dreamer… Soon you shall meet with your seeker

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　 　 . ✦

additional note: as you can tell i'm not the best songwriter out there... thank you so much for requesting this! i know it's deviant from what you requested, but i hope you like it nonetheless!

[hollowghostsonfilm]

[Geto/Gojo Fic] Hollow: Where The Line Breaks [1/5]

Summary:

Satoru Gojo wakes up in the body of his sixteen-year-old self, 6 months before the Star Plasma Vessel mission. He's certain its a domain. Or a curse. Or a hallucination born at the moment of his death. It can't be real. Geto is alive. Shoko is there. The dorm floorboards creak at the exact right place. He has to focus, has to work out how to break out of this domain. But hope has teeth, and Gojo has been bitten.

Haunted by a future that only he remembers, Gojo has to walk the knife's edge between redemption and madness. Because if this is real, he can't let it go the same way again.

Master List for previous chapters.

Link to AO3 or read below:

Suguru watches as Satoru reheats his coffee again. Getting Tsumiki and Megumi up and ready this morning has felt like a herculean task, and even now, the two children are dragging their feet in getting their books together.

The morning sun streams through the kitchen window and catches motes of dust in the sunlight between them. Satoru looks ethereal, even as he tiredly reaches for his coffee and hisses as he burns his mouth on it.

The tension between them ebbs and flows since what Suguru is referring to as The Disaster. He wants to talk to Satoru about it, to explain himself. How wrecked from the first time killing a human not a curse, he’d lost himself trying to feel alive. How he had made the stupid, dumb, decision to try to find that through Satoru and realised at the last moment he didn’t want their first kiss tainted by the blood on his hands, the scent of it still in his nostrils.

He wants whatever it is that’s happening between them to be more than just a tainted memory of murder and disgust, thrill-chasing and battle high.

But Satoru has withdrawn into polite silence, which is worse than endless prattle. Sometimes he still forgets himself, especially when goofing around with the children, but when it’s the two of them alone together, Satoru becomes still, quiet, reserved. Not himself.

Suguru opens the fridge and peers inside to see if they need anything. He hums. “Can you pick up milk on the way back from class?”

Satoru seems startled to be addressed and pauses blowing on the top of his drink to nod stiffly. “I won’t be back until after six though.”

“Ah. Never mind then, I’ll ask Nanami instead.”

They’ve both started their degrees now, and while Suguru’s has been mostly easy, Satoru’s has been anything but. Suguru had the benefit of at least some mainstream education before entering Jujutsu High, but Satoru has never really had to sit still in a classroom before and take notes. All his classes up until now have been in things that come naturally to him, easy to him, something he can apply himself to easily.

But Suguru can see that with formal education he’s struggling. And he hears it from Shoko and Nanami, who have become his most reliable source for how Satoru is getting on these days even if they live in the same house.

Tsumiki and Megumi continue to chatter in the lounge, but the kitchen still somehow feels silent. The breath before a scream.

“We should talk,” Suguru tries, for the fiftieth time.

“About milk?” Satoru plays dumb for a moment, before those eyes flash with irritation. “Or do you mean something else?”

It’s a warning shot and Suguru knows it. “Let’s not fight with the kids around.”

“Sure, we’re really good at not doing things,” Satoru replies, putting his coffee down and leaving the kitchen entirely.

Suguru rubs his face tiredly and texts Nanami instead.

♾️

The Fukushima disaster sets the whole country reeling, and the curses that sprout up from the fear and despair are potent and high level. Suguru swallows them down like radiation, feeling them melting him from the inside out. Satoru and Suguru aren’t even paired up for their missions anymore, spread across the country in every spare minute they can. They have to skip class just to cover ground. And with Nanami and Shoko also on alert, that leaves Megumi and Tsumiki in the hands of whatever classmate Suguru can convince to take the kids for an evening or two.

They mostly manage to scrape by, mostly manage to keep the kids happy, healthy, and fed. Megumi is showing signs of seeing the increased populations of curses, and Suguru has tried to broach it with Satoru that they need to sit it down, explain it all to him, but Satoru is resolute.

Megumi will be allowed at least a few more years before being burdened with too much knowledge about those curses. Nanami had agreed, leaving Suguru having to try to dance around the topic while Megumi looked at him with large, scared, distrustful eyes.

He can see what he can see, and he’s perceptive enough to know when adults are lying to him.

It’s a mess.

And so it is that he gets the call. There’s a village, mysterious deaths and disappearances, probably a Grade 1 curse spirit. He has to go and kill it.

Simple enough.

“I’ll be back late,” Suguru calls through the door of Satoru’s room. “Can you do dinner?”

“How late’s late?” Satoru looks up from the book he’s reading. Those dark circles have appeared beneath his eyes again.

“Probably after midnight. It’s not far, but it’s remote so I’m taking a driver.”

Satoru sighs and inclines his head. “I’ll cancel my evening classes. Stay safe.”

It’s probably said as a throw away, that final sentence, but Suguru chooses to believe that it’s a show of warmth.

“Promise I’ll be back without a scratch.”

And so he goes. Out from the warmth of the kitchen, with its cereal crumbs, and into the dark lungs of Japan’s countryside and the feeling of cursed energy that feels like grief is pouring out of it like a long, exhaled breath.

The job itself is not complex. He tracks the curse to a limestone cave, devouring it quickly and efficiently, before returning to the town. Perhaps he will actually be home in time to at least scrape together some dinner before bed?

He picks his way through the overgrown land back down to the village to report that the curse is gone, taken care of once and for all, when he catches it. The scent of blood on the wind.

Dropping into a crouch, he pauses, throwing his senses wide to see what he can catch in them. There’s no curses about, that he can be sure of. But there is a flicker of something. Two somethings. Then he hears it, the quiet sound of a choked off sob.

He pulls aside the brush and sees them. Two girls, twins, barefoot, bleeding, hiding in the bushes. Their cursed energy clings to them like a stain. Suguru hesitates, just for a moment, making sure what he’s seeing is real, before he quickly shrugs off his jacket, draping it over them both.

One weeps silently, her cheek pressed to her twin’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. The other watches him with the sharp distrust of a cornered wolf. She looks no older than eight. The sun had long since vanished, but there’s dust in the air around them, soft, grey and indifferent to the way the two girls are bleeding onto the ground.

He doesn’t think, he just reaches for them both. Like a fireman through the smoke, holding out a hand encouragingly.

“Are you going to hurt us too?” The blond girl asks, her jaw set. He can feel her cursed energy, unrefined, poised to try to strike at him.

“No,” his voice cracks as he answers her. “No, I’m here to help.”

The quieter one with her dark hair reaches out and takes his hand. Her own is grubby. Suguru sees her fingernails are broken off, bloody, like she’s crawled her way out of somewhere using only her fingertips.

“Who did this to you? The curse?” Suguru asks gently. He has to win their trust, he has to get them to come with him back to the village.

He doesn’t expect the blond girl to laugh so hard that she starts coughing. The other girl drops his hand to wrap her arms around her sister.

“No. It was them. They said we were bad luck but we didn’t mean to be.”

Suguru follows where she points. It’s towards the village.

Rage fills him in an instant. For a moment, it burns so hot that it consumes him. His expression doesn’t change, it can’t. There is no expression that could even contain everything he feels in this instance.

“They blamed us for the curses. Every time it happened. They kept us in a cage but when you came, they brought us up here. Said that you’d kill us too,” the blond one says, her voice shaking in fear.

Suguru takes each of their small hands in one of his own. “I promise, I won’t hurt you. My name is Suguru Geto. What’s yours?” His voice is calm, even. It shouldn’t be. It should be shaking with all the anger he feels in this moment.

“Nanako.”

“Mimiko.”

Suguru nods to them both. “It’s nice to meet you both. I want you to come with me. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“If you’re lying, I’ll bite you,” Nanako says, and Suguru figures that’s fair enough.

♾️

Satoru knows he should cook, but he’s exhausted and Megumi is crabby. It’s easier just to give in. He has a child in each hand as they wind their way to the local Takoyaki shop. Megumi keeps squirming to get away, but Satoru’s grip is strong enough that he can’t succeed.

They reach the shop just before Megumi turns from hangry to full-blown rebellion. Satoru wonders what the Megumi he had known before would have thought, looking back at his younger self like this. Would he have been embarrassed? Ah, probably.

Satoru orders them whatever they want off the menu, and they end up with a mountain of Takoyaki between the two of them. Three octopus balls down, and the soft edges begin to creep back into Megumi again.

Satoru uses the toothpick to pick up his own, popping it in his mouth to chew on as he makes sure that neither kid makes a mess all over the shop’s table. He and Suguru have built something strange and quiet. Something that looks like a life from the outside, but it hasn’t felt like one since the gala. Satoru feels like he’s pretending for Megumi and Tsumiki’s sake. Or perhaps he had never really been ready to take them on in the first place. He’s growing used to Suguru always being there, and now that he’s pushed him away, he doesn’t know what to do with the absence.

It feels too much like before, even if Satoru is doing it to protect himself and them from anything further. He won’t be able to take it if Suguru tries to kiss him and backs out again. He won’t be responsible for what he does at that moment.

Tsumiki reaches for another ball. “If I eat two more, I’ll become Buddha and reach enlightenment! That’s how it works right? You get a big belly and then – BOOM!”

Satoru chokes on his food, startled from his thoughts and starting to laugh. “Yep. That’s exactly what it is. Monks are out there, meditating on mountaintops, but you can totally reach nirvana through Takoyaki. I think it’s the best way to.”

“Different paths, same destination,” Tsumiki says, closing her eyes in mock solemnity.

“Satoru will have to carry you home if you reach enlightenment and pass out,” Megumi says with his flat little voice.

“You’re just jealous that I’m spiritually advanced!”

Satoru doesn’t know where this has come from, but he suspects that they’ve overheard him and Suguru talking sometimes about work, and probably tried to link these concepts to what they do know, what they’ve seen around them.

He never really thought much about teaching them about Buddhism beyond what was obvious, but should he? Is it his job to offer spiritual guidance? He definitely feels unqualified for that.

“I’m done,” Megumi pushes away his Takoyaki boat.

“You only had four,” Satoru raises a brow.

“I’m responsible,” Megumi replies, but he’s still eyeing up the pile of Satoru’s Takoyaki like a hawk.

“Who told you that you had to be?” Satoru asks, pushing the boat back to Megumi. “Eat up.”

Megumi shakes his head. “No. I’m going to be responsible because you’re irresponsible.”

Satoru puts a hand to his chest. “Who has been feeding you these lies, Megumin?” He pretends to be hurt.

“You did use a piece of toast as a plate yesterday when you couldn’t be bothered to wash the plates,” Tsumiki pipes up. Traitor.

“That was efficiency and critical thinking!” Satoru protests, but it gains a laugh. Even Megumi lets out a little huff that could be interpreted as one, and tucks back into his food.

Satoru smiles and leans back against his chair. He picks up his water as he opens his phone and scrolls down to Suguru’s name. He’s on a mission but…

Suguru snaps a quick picture of Megumi and Tsumiki, their fingers smeared with mayonnaise and sauce, tucking into their food.

Children fed. Megumi’s being the responsible one again. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge.

He puts his phone back down on the table. He doesn’t expect an immediate response.

“You want the last one?” Tsumiki asks, holding the Takoyaki ball up to Satoru, who shakes his head. He’s got enough on his plate. Figuratively and literally.

Megumi is eyeing it up though, and Tsumiki seems to notice. She holds it out to him, and after a moment, Megumi takes it. “’nks.”

“What a good girl, sharing your food!” Satoru praises her, putting his hand on Tsumiki’s head. “Makes your fake-papa so proud!”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Megumi’s voice cuts through the air like a knife.

Satoru doesn’t let his expression drop, keeping his smile in place. No matter how Megumi attacks, Satoru knows he can’t show that it gets to him. He has to keep approaching him with kindness.

“Don’t worry, Satoru. Megumi’s just working on having no earthly attachments,” Tsumiki says, nodding sagely.

Satoru snorts and the moment passes.

His text message still goes unanswered.

♾️

It isn’t so much a room as a storage unit, but Suguru doesn’t know where else to take them. He’d had to shake off his handler at the village, hide the girls from him, and get a taxi instead back to the metropolitan area. The safe house is one he’s used once, for a mission, but this isn’t a permanent solution. He doesn’t even know if there is one. There’s a layer of dust on everything, the place hasn’t been used in over a year or more.

Perfect.

He pushes them towards the bathroom and draws them both a bath. They watch him like he’s going to drown them, so he steps out with directions that they need to be clean so he can look at where they’ve been hurt.

He makes up a bed of old futons, the sheets are musty but clean. Once it’s ready, he gets three glasses of fresh water, and pulls the bento boxes he’d grabbed at a local conbini out to put on the table.

The girls reappear shortly after, dressed in their ragged clothes. He doesn’t have anything else for them to wear. He is covered in their blood too, from where it oozed from unseen wounds as he carried them up the stairs.

He dresses their wounds while they are distracted by their food. They wolf it down like they haven’t eaten in days, before they crawl into the same futon together and fall asleep.

He calls Shoko immediately, giving her the address.

“Suguru, it’s 3am. What are you doing at a safe house at 3am?” Shoko had grumbled, but she still arrived an hour later, bags under her eyes and a cigarette hanging from her hand.

She checks over the girls while they sleep, her hands deft, but something in her expression brittle.

“You should have taken them to the school,” Shoko says.

“We didn’t take Megumi to the school,” Suguru points out. “I don’t want them to suffer further.”

The Fushiguros got their second chance, why shouldn’t these two?

“This isn’t protection. This is hiding,” Shoko sounds tired. “You know that right?”

“If I don’t protect them, then I’m no better than the people who hurt them. If Megumi is given the grace of having a childhood, why can’t they?”

“I can’t fault that logic but… Megumi has issues, sure. He was abandoned. This is… This is a different level, Suguru. This is too much for you and Satoru to handle,” she points out. “Twenty years old and four kids to look after? Plus, studies and a full-time job? These kids are going to need therapy, medical visits, not to mention support for their abilities…”

Suguru clenches his fists. “I know, all right. I know it’ll be hard. But it was either take them in or destroy that whole village, and I think in the circumstances, I made the right call.”

Shoko regards him carefully, lips pursed. “I should call Satoru.”

“Don’t,” Suguru stops her, putting up a hand. “No, not until… Just…”

“Even if you’re not talking right now, this isn’t something you can keep from him Suguru. What are you going to do, have a secret second family?” Shoko gives him a look.

“Don’t talk about us like we’re some married couple and I’m cheating,” Suguru folds his arms. “You know it’s more complicated than that.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Shoko stands up. “You should trust Satoru like he trusted you.”

♾️

Suguru leaves the girls with Shoko, for lack of anything else to do. Shoko estimates they are about seven or eight, though malnutrition has made it harder for her to tell. They might be older. She promises him that she’ll make sure they’re looked after but that he has to leave, he has to go to sleep, and he has to tackle this with a clear head.

So he returns home just before sunrise, stumbling as he pulls his boots off. He accidentally smears blood against the door as he catches himself and closes his eyes for a moment, knowing he’s going to have to wipe that away before Megumi and Tsumiki wake up in a few hours for school.

He hears Satoru’s footsteps approaching and he turns, not hiding the bone deep exhaustion he feels through every part of him.

Satoru is backlit with the light from the television, sending a blue glow through his hair that matches his eyes. He’s dressed in loungewear, sweatpants slung low enough on his hips that hip bones poke out between his sweater and his top. His expression is guarded.

“What happened?” Satoru asks, voice quiet so as not to wake anyone else.

Suguru’s throat closes over. “It took longer than expected.”

He’s becoming as evasive as Satoru.

But Satoru doesn’t press the issue. He walks forward, feet light on the floor, and up close Suguru can see that he looks exhausted as well. But he still stayed up and waited to make sure Suguru came home okay.

Satoru reaches forward, and his fingers brush against Suguru’s collar before dropping to his side as though burned. “You’ve got blood on your collar.”

The space between them feels loud, but Suguru can’t breach it. Satoru is keeping things from him, he knows that. He’s known that for years, when he catches Satoru watching him avidly, like he’s to be studied. Perhaps this is just one thing that he doesn’t have to tell Satoru? One thing that he keeps to himself.

At least until he’s figured out what, precisely, he is going to do with the girls.

“Leave your clothes outside your door. I’ll make sure they go in the wash and clean down the genkan,” Satoru says after the silence has stretched.

As Suguru nods, brushing past him, their knuckles catch, a quiet stutter of skin on skin. Neither of them flinch, but neither of them hold on either.

No, he can’t bring the girls here. Not into this situation, where the tension and uncertainty hangs between the adults in their lives like a threat. Megumi and Tsumiki are already here, that’s already done, but he won’t subject Nanako and Mimiko to any more instability. He won’t subject either sets of children to the uncertainty of each other either.

He’ll work something out for them. He’ll have to.

[1arkspur-aconitum]

DEAD AND GONE (s.r.)

SOULS OF POETS DEAD AND GONE, WHAT ELYSIUM HAVE YOU KNOWN?

[PART TWO OF THREE]

IN WHICH: Spencer apologises for his reaction to finding out her previous profession, then has a very curious request...

PAIRING: Season3!SpencerReid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: Comfort, fluff

CONTENT: swearing, classic BAU violence, established secret relationship, Spencer being awkward (as usual), very brief discussions of drug and alcohol addiction, discussions of death of a former lover, suggestive themes (16+)

WORD COUNT: 6k

PUBLISHED: 16/10/2024

I BARELY SPEAK TO him the next day.

In fact, I think I said a grand total of three words to him–nothing more than required, nothing at all like our usual long, babbling conversations. No, I avoided him ferociously, like he’s a rat and it’s 1348 in London.

Thankfully for me, Hotch put me with Emily out in the field rather than doing the geographical profile with Spencer. I wonder if Derek spoke to Hotch, but that might be doing Aaron Hotchner a disservice. He is a master profiler, afterall.

Spencer knocked on my door last night, not long after I had fled the bar, but I didn’t open it. I couldn’t. His words hounded me into what meagre sleep I could manage, pounding through my head as I took a shower, bruising into that soft spot in the centre of my chest I reserved only for him. All I could hear since he uttered it was him calling me disgusting. 

I know that I should try my best to get over it. Should focus on solving the case rather than on what my boyfriend thinks of my past. Emily spent a considerable chunk of time trying to reassure me that there is nothing for me to be ashamed of, but I don’t know anymore. The way he said it, spat it, still has its claws deep within my self doubt.

Coming from anyone else, I might’ve been able to brush it off, but coming from Spencer, the one person I thought would never judge me, would never hurt me? It’s proving harder to handle.

Spencer, to his credit, gives me my space. He doesn’t try to talk to me any more than necessary, doesn’t corner me somewhere to demand a conversation. Yet I do feel his eyes on me more than anyone else’s.

He watches me with that annoying carefully guarded expression, as if I might break at any moment. It’s patronising and, quite frankly, very annoying. I’m not made of glass. I have had worse things said to me, it’s not like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces because he said some harsh words that he didn’t mean.

Or, at least, I hope he didn’t mean. 

He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. That annoying voice in my head chases me throughout the day, clamouring for my attention along with the words Spencer uttered. It’s safe to say I wasn’t fully there. 

It was ultimately JJ who solved the case. She was the one who found out about the janitor that had been making his way up and down the strip of clubs, the one who encouraged Garcia to dig deeper into his history when the surface layer looked boring. 

In fact, JJ was also the one who apprehended the guy. Part of me feels guilty for not being the one to solve it, another part even guiltier for letting Spencer’s words have such an affect on my deduction skills, but the happy looks on Tia and Jas’ faces as they embraced my colleague in thanks was enough to lift my concerns.

We all agreed that we would go out for drinks tomorrow night, leaving us all one night to recover in our hotel rooms from such an intense order of business. I’m secretly very grateful. It gives me some time to wallow in my own self-pity, eating Oreos and watching whatever crap I can find on the tiny TV in my hotel room. Nothing a good cry can’t sort out. 

I’m propped up on the pillows not long after we left the police station, having politely refused the offer of a drink from Derek, and escaping. I don’t want a pity drink.

The TV flickers with something I am decidedly not paying attention to, crumbs littering the bed. Oreos are usually a cure-all for me, but today they’re not having the desired effect. Nothing seems to be making me feel any better.

This sucks. I knew this case would be rough, but I didn’t think it would be rough for these reasons. I expected the teasing, I expected being blasted with questions, but nothing could have prepared me for the way Spencer called me disgusting. Called me a hooker when I know that he knows damn well what the difference is. I didn’t realise how much I craved Spencer’s approval until he pulled it away from me like a rug from under my feet. 

I wonder if I should go and talk to him, but I don’t particularly want to. All I want is to stay here in my cocoon of sadness until it tires me out enough that I fall asleep.

I am just about to get up to make myself a hot chocolate, hoping that warm milk will encourage me to pass out so I can stop thinking about the way Spencer looked when he spat those words at me, when there is a knock on my door. 

I choose to ignore it, hoping that whoever it is will just go away. I sink  further into my bed covers and reach for another Oreo. The packet is empty. What a travesty. 

The knocking continues. It gets louder, more insistent, until I have no choice but to groan loudly and clamber out of bed. I stomp to the door. It’s safe to say I’m royally pissed off. All I want is to lounge around and be sad, but no matter what, whoever is on the other side of the door is almost guaranteed not to let me. 

I yank the door open, fully prepared to give whoever is on the other side a piece of my mind, but the words die on my tongue when I see who it is. Spencer stands in the hallway, looking adorable in his shirt and tie, hands tucked behind his back. He’s wearing his glasses, too. It’s as if he knows how much they affect me. 

‘June–’ he starts, but I cut him off.

‘What do you want, Spencer?’ My voice is cold, flat, mimicking the way he spoke to me not 24 hours earlier. I don’t really want to talk to him, not when it’s him who has forced me to do so. 

‘I…can I come in?’ He asks, glancing nervously down the corridor. 

‘No.’ The word is bland, disinterested. I cross my arms over my chest, staring up at him with as much hurt I can muster. I’m doing my best to ignore the way my heart is pounding against my ribs. I shouldn’t be affected by him, not when he’s said those things to me, but I am. I hate that I am. It’s Spencer, though, so of course I am affected by him. ‘I don’t really want to talk to you right now.’

‘Please..?’ Spencer sounds so pathetic, looks so earnest, that I find my facade crumbling just a smidge. ‘I just want five minutes. That’s all.’

I debate for a few seconds. ‘Fine. Whatever.’

I turn sharply on my heel and stalk back into my room, not caring to see if he follows. He does, and closes the door behind him softly. He’s usually always so tender. I flop onto the pillows and pick up the empty Oreo packet, glaring at it as if it’s the cause of all my problems. The silence is tense. Heavy. I glance at him expectantly. 

Spencer is standing awkwardly at the end of my bed, wringing his hands together as he looks anywhere but at me. I can tell that he’s nervous, but I don’t know why. I’m the one who should be nervous. He was the one who decided to be cruel, to say those words to me, and yet here he is, acting as if I’m the one who hurt him. To tell you the truth, it pisses me off a little. 

‘I’m sorry.’ He blurts the words out, barely more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. When I look up at him, surprised, I find him already watching me. Those beautiful brown eyes of his are completely unguarded this time, as vast and deep as an ocean. ‘I’m sorry for saying what I said last night. It was stupid, and mean, and I don’t know why I said them because I didn’t even mean them.’

‘You didn’t mean them?’ I repeat, measured voice laced with disbelief. It’s not as firm as I would like it to be, though. ‘You sounded pretty convincing when you said them, Spence.’

‘I know, I know I did, and I’m sorry.’ Spencer’s eyes swim with remorse, and he takes a tentative step towards me. I don’t move, body frozen as I listen to what he’s trying to tell me. ‘I was…I don’t know, I was angry. I lashed out and said things to make you angry, too. For that, I’m sorry.’

I pause, weighing up his words, and swing my legs off of the edge of the bed. I gaze up at him, head cocked. He’s confusing me more than usual. He seems genuine, standing there with his open expression, his nervous hands, but I still can’t shake the feeling that he was also genuine last night. 

‘Being angry doesn’t excuse the way you spoke to me, Spencer.’ I choose my words carefully, letting him see the furrow of my brow. ‘It doesn’t wash away the fact that you called me hooker in front of our friends, or the fact that you called me disgusting. It doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me.’

‘It’s not–I’m not trying to make excuses.’ Spencer flinches, before he carefully drops onto his knees on the carpet before me. He looks up at me and I can tell he wants to touch me. A hand reaches out, thinks better about it, and falls into his lap. ‘I’m just trying to explain. I know I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do.’

‘Then why did you say it?’ I sigh, running a hand through my hair. My words are meek, exposed as a cliff to a crashing shore.

‘I told you. I was angry.’ Spencer sits back on his haunches, copying my motion. His hair is pushed away like Prince Charming yet again, his eyes so wide underneath the thick lenses of his glasses. It’s almost as if he’s intentionally making this difficult for me.

‘Why? Because I used to be a stripper? Because, like I said last night, it was my old life, and I don’t regret it–’

‘No–no, it’s…’ Spencer hesitates, pushing his glasses up with the back of his hand before looking down at his lap. His mouth twists in discomfort. ‘It wasn’t because of that, not really. It was–’

‘It was what?’ I encourage, leaning forward slightly. Most of the malice has dropped out of my voice, and I’m now trying to make him feel comfortable enough to continue talking.

‘It was because you didn’t tell me.’ He says finally, looking me dead in the eye. ‘And then, you sounded so…so happy when you were telling the others about it that it…it upset me.’

‘It upset you?’ I repeat, brow furrowing. I’m even more confused than before, but at least the anger has ebbed away. We’re having a discussion about it, and that’s probably for the best. The last thing I want to do is lose Spencer. ‘I don’t understand. Why would that upset you?’

He looks away from me, chewing the inside of his cheek, his hands working furiously together in front of him. I reach out and let my fingers brush against the back of his knuckles. When he looks back at me, I try to look as open and receptive as I can. This is a safe space for him. I won’t judge him. 

‘Because…well, because I thought you trusted me.’ His voice is so soft, so vulnerable, that it damn near breaks my heart. I offer him the palm of my hand in the space between us. He takes it. This physical contact seems to give him the courage he needs to keep talking. ‘I thought we were getting closer, and then you drop this bombshell on me in front of everyone, and it felt like…like you were keeping something hidden from me.’

‘I…I wasn’t trying to keep something hidden from you, Spence.’ I feel a pang of guilt. I can see how he might think that–after all, it’s not like I didn’t have a couple of opportunities to tell him before we stepped foot in the strip club. ‘It’s just…it’s complicated. That was a really weird time of my life, and a lot was going on.’

‘Like what?’ He asks, squeezing my hand gently. His thumb traces soothing circles on my palm. It sends a familiar warmth blooming in the pit of my stomach, a stark contrast to the coldness I felt last night. ‘I want to understand. Please.’

‘Alright.’ I sigh, and pat the bed next to me. ‘Get up here. I don’t want you to hurt your knees and we might be here for a while.’

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. He clambers up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in front of me. Our knees bump together and he shyly pulls both of my hands into his lap. His cold fingers start to fiddle with my own as he waits expectantly for me to start talking.

My heart twinges in a mixture of adoration and fear. What I am about to tell him is a lot, and if he was mad about me ‘hiding’ the stripping thing, then this might be what breaks him.

But I shall tell him. And I’ll tell him all of it. 

‘Okay. Okay.’ I take a deep breath and shake my shoulders loose. Spencer’s eyes are locked onto me, patient, waiting. I’m so nervous that I’m sure he can feel my hands shaking between his. Spencer gives me an encouraging nod. ‘So…so I started dancing for a specific reason. In fact, I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have done–would never have considered doing–because of, of this reason. Um. God.’

‘It’s alright. I promise I won’t judge you–not like yesterday.’ Spencer’s voice is softer than I deserve. 

‘I had a fiancé.’ The words tumble out of my mouth and fall into the space around us.

The room is deathly silent. I’m not sure either of us are breathing. I can’t bring myself to look at him, not wanting to see how he’s taking the news. What I do know is that his hands around mine stop fiddling. I rub my lips together and then the words don’t stop. 

‘I met Jay when I was doing my first undergrad, the Classical History one, and we…clicked. He and I moved in together whilst I was doing my Cornell degree, after five years. He proposed not long after that. We were to be married once I graduated.

‘Uh…I kinda assumed that would be it for me, y’know. One true love. But…well, not everything works out the way you think it will.’ I say, looking up at him to find him staring at me, those brown eyes stained with that confusion and hurt I saw yesterday. I have to keep going, have to get the words out. ‘I know. It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?’

‘What happened?’ Spencer’s voice is quiet, but surprisingly steady, his shoulders a firm line. He’s gripping my hands so tightly that it hurts, but I don’t mind. We both need the physical contact. 

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to say. What I’m about to relive. 

‘He died.’ 

It’s raw. Harsh, the words grating against the back of my throat. 

‘I came home one day from a lecture and…and someone had broken in. Trashed the place. I found…I found Jay in the bedroom.’ I stare down at the bedspread, not seeing the bland hotel pattern but the lifeless form of my old lover. ‘Someone had…he was shot. There was nothing I could have done.’

‘Oh, June…’ Spencer’s voice is so thick with sympathy that I could chew it. He squeezes my hands and I finally look up at him. His eyes are lined with silver. He looks as heartbroken as I feel, as if he’s feeling the pain as acutely as I am. I have to look away. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It–it was a long time ago.’ I force a smile onto my face, but it’s brittle. Likely to snap at any moment. ‘After that, everything broke down. I left Cornell–I couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t live in that same apartment–and went to New York. I didn’t know what to do. I was lost and alone and I just…didn’t want to feel that pain anymore.’

‘So you started dancing.’ Spencer’s tone is laden with understanding, so impossibly gentle. He looks at me with his characteristically kind eyes and I can tell that he regrets everything he said. Part of me forgives him then and there. I nod, trying not to let the tears fall. ‘It was a way to escape.’

‘Exactly.’ I whisper, voice barely audible. I hate the way it quivers. ‘Amongst other stuff. I started taking drugs–I mean, I’d smoked weed and shit before, but after Jay it was like I didn’t care. I slept with random people. Started working as a stripper. I was spiralling. I lost myself in other people, other things, until I didn’t have to think about what happened. It worked. For a while.’

‘But not forever.’ Spencer finishes my sentence for me, intertwining our fingers. He’s looking at me differently now, as if he’s just realised something that makes him view me in a different light. Considering that he’s not letting go of my hands, I have to hope that it is a good thing. ‘And that’s why you slept with that guy, the regular.’

‘Yes.’ I confirm, hating the shame that creeps up my neck. I don’t want to hide anything from Spencer any more, though. There’s been enough hiding. ‘I slept with him because, for a brief moment, he made me feel something other than grief. It wasn’t real. It was simply filling a void. God, I was a mess back then.’

‘So…what made you stop?’ 

‘My mother.’ I half-laugh, blinking back tears and rolling my eyes at him. ‘Who else? She heard about what was happening from Tia–I still haven’t fully forgiven T for that, by the way–and essentially kidnapped me.’

Spencer chuckles, but it’s not fully humorous. ‘She…she kidnapped you?’

‘Yeah, she did. She lives in this commune in Illinois–fully self-sufficient and a massive bunch of hippies.’ I say the words with so much love that it brightens every syllable. ‘The commune saved my life. They helped me process Jay, get off the drugs I was on, taught me better coping skills. Encouraged me to complete my degree. I haven’t looked back since.’

‘And you don’t regret it?’ Spencer asks, thumbs now tracing gentle, casual circles on the softest part of my wrists. It warms my chest. ‘You don’t regret what you did, or what you had to do to get through it?’

‘No, Spence, I don’t.’ I smile at him, the action finally reaching my eyes. ‘I mean, I wish I’d done some things differently, but I don’t regret it. I loved dancing. I learnt a lot about myself and made some excellent friends. Yeah, the circumstances were shitty, but I wouldn’t trade in all the good times for a few bad ones.’

Spencer regards me for a long time, his eyes searching mine, scouring my face. I let him see everything. I don’t hold anything back, letting myself be an open book for him to read. I let him peer into the darkest parts of me without fear. Without qualms. This is me. I have nothing to hide from him anymore. He can take it or leave it. 

He lets out a long, shaking breath. 

‘Thank you…for telling me.’ He says, angling his head as he continues to inspect me. Spencer pauses, shifting so his elbows are on his knees. Our interlocked hands drop into my lap. I could lean in and kiss him if I wanted to. But I won’t. ‘I should have known…I just…I just got so jealous when I heard you talking about it that I couldn’t think anymore. I really should have known better. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s alright, Spence.’ I offer him a reassuring smile, feeling a crushing weight lift off of my chest. I lift our hands and press a careful kiss to the back of his. ‘I understand why you reacted the way you did. It was a lot to take in.’

‘It was.’ He admits, gaze softening with a small smile. ‘But I’m glad you told me. I want to learn everything about you. Even the most difficult parts. Actually, especially those parts.’

‘Oh, really?’ I say, my tone laden with teasing. ‘Especially the most difficult parts?’

‘Well, I’m not sure I like the way you’re saying that,’ Spencer says warily, but my broad smile is infectious and soon he’s grinning at me. ‘But yes.’

‘Don’t worry, I think I’ve just told you the worst of it.’ I laugh, pulling one of my hands free to brush a strand of his hair behind his ear. His skin is so hot it’s nearly feverish. He leans into my touch, pursing his lips slightly. ‘And don’t you dare get hung up on the word ‘think’, Spencer. I know you. If something else comes to me, I’ll tell you, alright?’

‘Alright.’ Spencer agrees, his voice soft. It’s clear we’re both done arguing. 

I smile gently and slowly start to clamber into his lap. I take my time, not wanting to rush him, and giving him plenty of opportunities to push me away. He doesn’t. In fact, his hands drop to my hips and tug me closer. Once I’m settled, I spot how his eyes flicker from mine to my mouth and away. He looks as if he wants to say something, so I wait, curling my fingers in the fine hairs at the back of his neck. 

‘I…I have a question.’ 

‘Alright. Ask away.’ I raise a curious eyebrow, my heart pounding so hard against my ribcage that I’m pretty sure he can feel it too. I have no idea what he’s going to ask, but I am ready for anything. I’ve already laid my soul bare to him, there isn’t anything more to hide. I wonder if this apprehension is what Prometheus feels when he hears the eagle’s wings. 

‘Do you…I mean, would you ever…’ He turns bright red, as if he’s embarrassed by the question he’s attempting to ask me. Spencer looks down at the space between us, his hair tickling my chin as he rests the crown of his head against my collar. I wait patiently and rub soothing circles into his back. ‘Would you dance for, for me?’

‘Dance for you?’ I repeat his question. I cup his cheeks and gently pull him away from where he’s hiding, forcing him to look at me and see that I am not laughing at him. That I don’t find the request funny, or humiliating. ‘You mean, like how I would in Elysium?’

‘Yes.’ Spencer nods, voice firmer now when he sees there is no sign of distaste or disapproval in my eyes. He looks so vulnerable, so open, that it melts my heart. 

Affection floods through me. I want to show him that I am not ashamed of my past, that I am willing to share something that brings me so much joy. Even though dancing is laden with the Jay thing, the drugs thing, I still love it. It’s freeing and a massive boost of confidence, and if Spencer wants to witness me doing that, then who am I to deny him.

‘Why, of course, Spencer.’ I smile, smoothing a thumb under his eye. His eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. Spencer leans forward and presses a tentative kiss to my lips. It’s chaste but still sends a shiver down my spine. ‘I would be honoured. You just have to let me make some calls first, alright?’

This will be fun…

Elysium isn’t too busy when we arrive, which I take as a good sign. There are a few regulars dotted about in individual booths, scantily clad women meandering through them, dishing out lap dances where requested.

Familiar pop songs blare through the speakers as two girls dance on the stage, a bed of green money laid out on the floor for them. It’s smoky, heady, and it might be my own anticipation, but it feels as if the whole space thrums with energy.

The music threatens to break through my skin, the bass reverberating through my skeleton. It feels good to be back.

I make my way towards the bar, pulling Spencer along behind me. We were chatting on the way here, but the closer we got to Elysium the more apprehensive he became. Spencer doesn’t talk much when he’s nervous.

I’ve been trying to loosen him up, but all I can really do is hope that it’s a good nervous, an excited nervous, rather than an ‘oh my god what am I doing’ nervous. I don’t think Spencer has ever had someone strip for him like this before.

No pressure or anything, June. It’s not like he’ll forget it. 

‘Alright,’ I say, encouraging him to sit on a stool near the bar. He has a slightly panicked look in his eye, unsure where he’s allowed to rest his eyes. Andrea leans casually against the surface, her large breasts almost spilling out of her tiny bra, a bemused look on her face. I smile warmly at her and she raises a hand in greeting. I turn back to Spencer who is staring at his lap. ‘Can you order us both a drink?’

‘You’re leaving?’ Spencer says, jerking his head up to look me in the eye. 

I laugh and step between his knees, carding my fingers through his long hair. ‘Yes, but not long. I’ve gotta go get changed, but I will come back for you soon. Is that alright?’

‘I…I can’t come with you?’ He says meekly, fingers digging into the backs of my thighs.

‘No, not backstage, sweetheart.’ I try to keep the humour out of my voice. It’s sweet that he doesn’t want me to leave him, but I have to. ‘I promise I won’t be long, alright.’

‘You promise?’ 

‘Yes, Spence, I promise.’ I kiss him softly on the lips, careful not to smudge any of my lipstick, still smiling into his mouth. He’s impossibly on edge. Hopefully a drink will ease the tension. ‘Just relax, order a drink, and I’ll be back before you know it.’

I squeeze his thigh gently before pushing away from him, nodding once at Andrea. She and I have known each other for a while–not as long as I’ve known Tia and Jas, but long enough that I know she’ll take care of Spencer without shoving his face in her tits. Or without letting other people shove his face in their tits. 

Carefully, I pick my way around the edge of the room, headed towards the backstage doors, where I can see Jas talking with a stripper I don’t recognise. Jas is dressed in silver today, a slinky number that sticks to her curves and accentuates the long legs I’ve always been so jealous of. As I walk, a duffle bag bumps against my hips. 

‘Junebug!’ Jas grins, spotting me. She grabs me by the shoulders, glancing over my shoulder to where I’m sure a still dazed and confused-looking Spencer is sitting. Her face tightens. ‘Tia said you’d called–I am so sorry, by the way, if I had known, I wouldn’t’ve–’

‘It’s alright, Jas.’ I laugh, brushing her hair from her shoulder. She seems genuinely apologetic. ‘The team doesn't know, otherwise I would’ve stopped you before you made him blush as much as you did.’

She throws her head back and laughs, taking my arm and leading me through another secret door. ‘I suppose it’s your turn to make him blush now, Junie.’

These corridors are familiar, painfully so–I got so drunk I nearly threw up in that storage closet over there, I smoked a bowl with Tia in that dressing room, did a line of cocaine off Jas’ breasts in that one. They hold the memories of the me I never thought I would become, the me I never thought I would escape. With every step I take, I wonder what it would take to tip me back into that person. 

‘Alright, here, you can use my dressing room.’ Jas stops at her door and pushes it open. ‘Tia’s with a client right now, but she should be done in about fiveish mins, so you can find her afterwards. She’s got the key.’

‘Perfect, thanks for doing this, by the way. I know it’s kinda last minute.’ I smile, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. ‘And the team are still down for drinks tomorrow, by the way, if you guys are. If you need me to sweet talk Harold, I can try.’

‘It’s all worked out already, I think Amy and Beth are coming as well, so should be fun!’ Jasmine reciprocates, pressing a kiss to my cheek before pushing me into her room. ‘Now, hurry up, you’ve got a doctor to knock the socks off of–what are you gonna wear?’

I tug her in after me with an eye roll. Of course she wants to know all the little details.

Jas’s changing room is sparsely furnished aside from a plush armchair angled in the corner–it’s the same one we once both managed to fit on, sharing a spliff and laughing as Tia reenacted a particularly interesting lap dance she performed. A table is pressed up against the wall, the edges of it as chipped as the mirror propped up on top. A few polaroid pictures have been stuck to the frame, and I can see my own face beaming out at me. 

‘Give me your phone.’ Jas says, and I oblige her, busy rummaging around in the duffle bag. Soon after, the sound of my playlist starts to hum through the room. It’s soft, trance-like, and alluring. The music I always prefer to dance to. ‘Alright, show me what you’re gonna wear.’

When I turn around to show her the lingerie set in my hands, she’s sprawled out on that armchair, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Her eyes widen and she just nods at me with delight. 

‘I’m kinda nervous.’ I admit, not caring if Jas sees me naked. I strip off my current clothes and start to put on the lingerie. It’s new, so Spencer hasn’t seen it before–in fact, I bought it specifically for him, in the hopes that we might be able to make use of it on this case. It’s dark green, skimpy, and covered in embroidered lace and beads. It leaves very little to the imagination.

‘Really?’ Jas asks, popping a piece of bubblegum into her mouth. ‘Why?’

‘I mean, I haven’t danced for someone else in a very long time.’ I murmur, straightening the tiny bra so that it properly accents my boobs. It’s not as if I don’t remember how to do it, I’ve been taking pole classes intermittently in Virginia, when our schedule allows. ‘And I’ve never danced for someone I actually care about.’

‘Aw, you’re adorable.’ Jas gushes, blowing a bubble. ‘You’ll be fine–you look gorgeous, by the way. Do you need to borrow some heels?’

‘Please.’ I laugh sheepishly. ‘They’re not exactly something I pack for a case.’

Jas unfurls herself from the chair and heads to the only other piece of furniture in the tiny room. It’s the infamous wardrobe–Jas keeps every outfit she’s ever worn on site, and works kind of like the inhouse dry cleaners. Everything is available as long as you can fit into it, and as long as you give it back. It saved my life many times. 

‘Oo, black, please.’ I call over to her as I slip into a small, black slip dress that I’ll wear until we get to the private room. It makes the lingerie more special, I think, if he doesn’t get to see it right away. 

‘Here you go.’ She grins, passing me a pair of classic black stiletto stripper heels. They shine in the soft light, and I can see that the material is littered with sparkles. Simple enough for what I know Jas has in that wardrobe, and they make my legs look a mile long when I try them on. ‘Perfect. You look gorgeous. Come on, now, get out there and show the doctor what you can do!’

‘Alright, alright!’ I laugh, grabbing my phone quickly before she wrestles me out of the door. I’m leaving the bag here. I give her a quick, grateful hug as she hurries me out of the door and back into the main part of Elysium. 

As I step out of the backstage area, I start to hum along to the music, letting the sound of it start to move my body in a way I haven’t done in a while. Teasing, sultry, a slight warm up for what is about to happen. Jas smacks my arse quickly and wiggles her fingers in a goodbye. I watch as she disappears amongst the crowd, searching for someone to wring dry. The bass makes the floor shake, as familiar as an earthquake. 

I spot Spencer at the bar, looking as out of place as he ever has. He sits exactly where I left him, but this time he’s nursing a large drink, my own still sitting on the bar. One leg is crossed over the other, and he keeps his eyes resolutely on the glass in his hand. He looks so adorable in his glasses, in his shirt and tie, so awkward, that my heart swells a little. This is the last place Dr. Reid would ever be found in, and yet here he is. 

He’ll get over it. I reassure myself, smoothing slightly clammy hands down my dress. God, I’m actually really worried about this. My heart pounds an unsteady rhythm against my ribcage, sweat sticking my thighs together. He’s going to remember every single second, so it has to be good. I’m probably just freaking myself out more with that thought.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and start to walk towards him. I do it lazily, seductively, allowing myself to fall into the stripper mindset. The small slip dress barely brushes the swell of my thighs, showing off a hint of the garter I’m wearing. Spencer spots me almost immediately and his whole body tenses. 

He likes the dress, that much is obvious. His mouth parts as his hungry eyes scour every inch. The low neckline, the short hem, and the slight sheerness of the fabric means that when the lights wash over me, he can see a sneak peak of what’s to come. Spencer swallows hard, unable to stop staring as I approach, absentmindedly putting his glass down on the bar.

‘Hey, handsome.’ I smile, stepping between his legs and running my hands over his smooth hair. He still has his glasses on, which makes him look even more awkward. His hands wrap around the back of my thighs, callused hands against bare skin. 

‘Hey.’ He murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. He blinks a couple of times in rapid succession, like he does when he’s thinking really hard. A permanent blush brightens his cheekbones. ‘You look…beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ I smile at him, biting my lip. His eyes are drawn to movement, lips slightly parted. There’s still a tension in his shoulders that I want him to lose. I want him to enjoy this, after all. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Terrified.’ 

‘Aw, sweetheart, that’s not what I want to hear.’ I say gently, leaning down and pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks. His skin is red hot. ‘Can I ask why? Is it me?’

‘What? No, it’s not you.’ Spencer says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He pulls one of my hands out of his hair to press a kiss to the palm of it, the most tender thing he has done for me in a while. A familiar warmth pools in the pit of my stomach. ‘You’re the only thing keeping me here. I’m just…I’ve never done this before.’

‘I know.’ I say softly, a slight smile turning the corners of my lips. ‘Funnily enough, Spence, it doesn’t surprise me that you’ve never done this before. I would be more concerned if you had.’

‘No, I mean–I don’t know. I just feel so out of place.’ He flushes and leans in closer, as if he’s worried that he’ll be overheard. His next words are a hiss. ‘When I…when I asked if you would dance for me, I meant back in the hotel.’

‘We can go back if you want, Spencer,’ I sigh, tilting his face up to mine and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Spencer is soft, pliant, and grips the back of my thighs tighter. ‘But, if you want me to dance for you, then I want to do it right. And the only way I can do that is here. Look, why don’t we just go to the private room, you might feel more comfortable there.’

He thinks it over for a couple of seconds, fingers secretly brushing up the backs of my thighs. I resist the urge to shiver at the action, fearing that any movement might scare him off. I wait patiently. We have time. Eventually, Spencer grips my hips with his big hands and nods. He’ll do it. 

Victorious, I pick up our drinks and encourage Spencer to stand. He doesn’t let go of my waist as I lead him through the crowd, headed towards where I can see Tia. I kind of like him like this. Dependent. Clinging to me as if he’s worried I’ll slip out of his grasp and vanish. 

Tia grins at us as we approach. She’s dressed in a shimmering gold number that matches Jas’, sticking to all the right places. Her long dreads are piled atop her head in a messy bun, a few stray strands framing her gorgeous face. She leans casually against the wall next to the door that has the PRIVATE neon sign above it, a mischievous glint in her eye.

‘Well, well, Junebug, look at you.’ She gives me an appreciative look, and I bask a little in it, showing off the heels. Tia then turns her attention onto Spencer, a bemused look on her face. ‘I should have known, honestly. From the moment I saw you, I was like she’s gonna be all over you. June here’s always had a type.’

I laugh, watching Spencer look sheepishly at Tia. His cheeks are a deep crimson, and he keeps glancing down at his feet, as if he’ll be told off for looking too long. ‘You’re not wrong, T. You’re not wrong. To his credit, this one took a little bit of convincing.’

‘Somehow, I don’t believe that. June always went for the pretty boys.’ Tia steps up to Spencer, smooths a hand across one of his shoulders. Spencer tenses, the hand on my hip tightening. He looks up, eyes darting between us, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension and what I hope is pride. I laugh again through a sip of my drink. Spencer swallows. ‘And let me tell you, they always went for her.’

‘Alright, alright, don’t tease him.’ I pout, rolling my eyes at her behind Spencer’s back. I’ve only just got him to relax, I don’t want her to rile him up again. She’s always like that, though. She gives me an apologetic look and quickly takes her hand off of my boyfriend. My heart calms briefly. ‘Can we have room three? That’s still the one with the big sofa, right?’

‘Yeah, of course.’ Tia nods, using a key around her neck to unlock the PRIVATE door. It opens onto a corridor lined with black doors, each with a small, circular window covered by a blind. Small lights at the top shine red or green to show availability. Most show red. She leads the way, and I take Spencer’s hand in mine, pulling him along behind me. ‘That’s always been your favourite, hasn’t it?’

‘I think I just like the sofa, honestly.’ I grin, glancing over my shoulder at Spencer. I am very pleased to see that his eyes are on my arse as I walk ahead of him. When he realises I’m watching him, his cheeks get even redder if that’s possible. I squeeze his hand to reassure him. He’s allowed to look at my arse, and I know that he knows that, I think the environment makes him think that he can’t. ‘Plus, I always used room three.’

‘I know, I never use it anymore because it makes me think of you.’ Tia says, stopping in front of the aforementioned room. She unlocks it with a flourish and pushes the door wide to let us in. I lead Spencer inside, Tia giving him a once-over as he shuffles past her. She winks at me before addressing him. ‘Good luck, Spencer. You’re gonna need it.’

‘Oh, I already know that…’ Spencer smiles shyly at her. 

Tia sketches a mock bow to us before tossing me the key and closing the door. 

Game time.

THANK YOU FOR READING! PART THREE CAN BE FOUND HERE.

[snzcaretaker]

𝕰𝖉𝖜𝖎𝖓'𝖘 𝕵𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖑

(Please excuse the random bit of blanket over his butt - covering that up for Tumblr's sake.)

Previous Fic | Below are Edwin’s journal entries between his encounter with Ambrose, and receiving his letter. He got sicker :( I also left some blanks instead of inventing names for minor characters and places - just seemed more convenient for now. CW: contagion

January 3rd - The New Year’s Ball was a disaster. If not for Ambrose, I hardly know what I would have done. He found me in a back room, already delirious and - But I can’t speak of it, even here…partly because of its disgusting nature, and partly because of the affection it brought out in me. Which is more mortifying? All I can say is how grateful I am to Ambrose. Things could have been much worse.

At any rate, I must be stronger. Will return to work tomorrow. I am wanted in L____, where there is a land sale to be arranged. I am quite well enough to go. Healthy exertion will put all these thoughts out of my mind. 

January 4th - Trip to L_____ brought nothing but misfortune. All the household there was sick with congestion, and Mr. ______, in addition to driving a terribly hard bargain, coughed every other word. But the real troubles began on the return journey. The left front wheel of the carriage sank into a concealed hollow under the snow. The sky was very bleak, and bitter cold seeped into the carriage interior until my nose ran in complaint. We were stuck in the snow for hours and did not reach home until after sundown. I’m afraid I cursed at everyone, and kicked the side of the carriage like a child in tantrum. My driver is a good man, but he will like me even less now than he already did. The devil take my temper…

But how could I help it, in the midst of panic and frustration? I was so close to being well again. Feel unusually tired now, but hopefully that will be mended by morning. I cannot afford to be ill again so soon.

January 5th - Awoke late, with a sore throat and a feeling of great dread. I did my best to overcome any weakness by persistent activity. I went for a short ride, and chopped wood until I came over faint. Nonetheless, I only found that the cold moved from my throat to my head and nose. Servants finally persuaded me to take supper lying down. They will talk. I refuse to call for Dr. _____, though. That will only confirm the gossip, and further damage my reputation. Half of E_____ County already thinks of me as fragile.

January 6th - Attempted to work from bed. At least correspondence can be attended to. However, I blotted the ink so many times due to ill-timed sneezes that I soon gave up the effort. Am now lying in bed alone. Everything is dull and I feel unconscionably sorry for myself. Fever has set in - I know myself well enough to say I will likely only worsen from here. Will sleep again. [Page has clearly been sneezed on.]

January 7th - Felt utterly pathetic and miserable all day. All I can think about are Ambrose’s arms around me. I physically ache with longing to be held. How can I return to my lonely existence after being shown such kindness? Such a happy memory…it torments me because it can never be repeated. He was a saint, but no one is saint enough to want to know me after I’ve spent a whole night sneezing myself silly into their hand, an absolute mess. And I said such needy, adoring things…I hope I am misremembering…what an embarrassment.

Must stop writing or I will go to pieces again. 

January 8th - Oh Ambrose, Ambrose, Ambrose. There is light in the world after all! How do these gifts fall into my lap? He feels as I do. That he could forgive me, even want me, after seeing me this way…I am overcome.

I wrote a few short lines to answer his request in the affirmative - everything else must be said in person. I’ll busy myself with making a guest room ready for him, and doing what I can about my appearance. Patient as he is, the last thing I want is to greet him with total dishevelment and a sneeze in the face. Though I might not have a choice. I feel so very weak even sitting up at my mirror, and my hair is not obeying me. Maybe I’ll just rest a little while longer…

[vegantinatalist]

I respect vegans' love of animals, really I think animals deserve more compassion than they get. I am personally not vegan. I do not think it is wrong to eat the body of something that was once alive. Tbh thats including humans given the individual had consented, (ideally similar to how organ donations work). I think it is wrong to torture animals such as what factory farms do, I'm a strong believer in small-scale hunting and ethical farming, we as a species have been eating meat in some capacity for thousands of years, the best we can currently do is be kind about it. It's something we have to reconcile with as a species. Truly I don't think a vegan revolution will be viable until we have affordable lab-grown meat.

I disagree with everything you said, heres why. -"I respect animals" then immediately proceeds to call them "things". You respect humans because you considered their consent and previous lives in the matter and how your action may have affected them, you did not with animals. Animals do not consent to being raped farmed and slaughtered. Meat doesnt come from the sky. Vegans dont revere dead bodies either. This is not some religious crap. We care about the harm being caused to the living as a result of paying an evil industry and supporting an evil practice. We want to stop the breeding of animals for the sake of exploiting them. Vegans do not necessarily love nonhuman animals at all. Plenty dislike being around or are indifferent to nonhuman animals. Veganism is not rescue, its not about having a sex-buyer-like savior boner for them like carnists do. It's just sparing them and leaving them the fuck alone and not tormenting them. -The only way small farms are consistently "more ethical" is just that not as many animals are being abused. Any revolting disgusting practice you have seen a large scale farm practice, I have seen a small scale farmer do the same or worse. I have seen farmers prostituting their barn animals, I've seen countless horrific hoarding cases that arent technically illegal and so no one can do anything about it, I've seen every horrific practice from teeth cutting and tail docking to too small enclosures, shutting animals out to intentionally cause them to die by exposure, killing with a hammer etc etc etc. -There is no such thing as ethical exploitation. The animals in hunting zones are raised in game farms. Even if they werent, hunting is not ethical. I've seen deer with their jaws blown off slowly starving to death and every kind of terrible injury you can imagine, many inflicted on purpose. Not to mention how hunting is a practice that attracts sadists and abusers and preens their violent tendencies, increasing rates of domestic violence. -Appeal to tradition fallacy. And no it's not the best we can do lmfao veganism and not killing them is very obviously better than "being nice about how we kill them". You dont have to reconcile shit. Stop doing it. Literally just stop. Spare them. You have other food available that is nutritionally complete and cheaper that takes less resources to grow and distribute. A vegan revolution is and always has been viable since the dawn of man. People were opposing animal agriculture since it's inception. Pythagorus and his students didnt need lab grown meat in 470 BCE. Benjamin Lay didnt accept slavery of humans or animals in any capacity and refused to use horses and lived just fine. Coretta Scott King and Dexter Scott King both spoke of veganism being the next logical step to antislavery and were vegan animal rights activists. Alex Hershaft. I could go on and on and on. Please discuss this more with me if you are interested, or spend time immersing yourself in content made by animal rights activists and learn what we are actually trying to inform people of.

[judesmoonbeauty]

A Briar Dream - Chapitre Deux

Please Note: This is a series. Please read Chapitre Un first. WC: 1,782 CW: Brief mentions of assault and torture Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Series, Love Bites, Kissing, Tending to wounds, First morning together. Pronouns: She/Her Pronouns Summary: He noticed the strap of her nightgown had slipped from her shoulder, and before placing it back in its proper place, he leaned over he gently bit it. “You’re nothin' but a pain in the ass, ya know that?”.....“That's right, lil' lady. I need specimens for my experiment. See you later.”.......Spiteful and to the point, at least that's how it seemed on the surface, but knowing Jude, he likely wanted her to rest at the castle safely. Dividers: @/natimiles

In the first breath of morning, a pair of warmly woven bodies could be found buried under layers of sheets. Jude's body stirred first as it was accustomed to waking up long before the dawn ever broke. Slowly opening his eyelids, his sight gradually adjusted to the darkness, which finally brought her into his view. He blinked for a moment, recalling the previous night's events, and exhaled in relief that she was safe - for now. Her sweet scent continued to pervade him and the comfortable atmosphere start to lull him once again. This was when a new feeling was born within him – reluctance.

He never had an issue springing from bed no matter how worn out his mind and body were, but for the first time in his life he wanted to linger in this moment and never surrender it. He wrapped his long arms around her waist and pulled her in closer to his body, nuzzling himself into the back of her hair. However, he was soon fighting within himself at how ridiculous he was acting for wanting to stay in bed with her. The fact that his resolve to leave for work had weakened for just a moment caused a wicked grin to creep on his face.

“You'll pay for makin’ me feel like this princess,” he whispered as he kissed the back of her head. After which, he removed the hair covering her neck so he could check the bruising. The violent bruising was now mixed with numerous marks of his love bites from last night; he was disgusted at himself for almost failing to protect her, so he did what he could to carve out that bastard’s marks he left behind. But Jude knew that could only do so much because the mind scars differently from the flesh. Still, she would face worse dangers in the future for being with him, and she accepted it wholeheartedly. So, he promised her something other than, “I’ll always protect you,” though he'd do his best to do so.

“Anyone who touches you, I’ll torture the bastards so slowly that they’ll wish I was strippin' their flesh from their bones instead.”

The back of his forefinger stroked her cheek, and after lighting a lamp, Jude crossed the room towards a desk that held all sorts of medicines, salves, and bandages - things that had become a staple in his life - and now will become one in hers too. He hated that thought so much that he slammed the desk drawer shut to vent his feelings, but this was now her life and there was no way she'd ever escape from him. Her option to be free to live in peace and happiness was gone, but just as that self-righteous Earl is always going on about being honest about one’s desires, Jude decided he was going to be honest with his and keep her by his side. Nothing was going to prevent him from dragging her along for the rest of their lives, no matter how disdainful, bleak or sinful his actions would be. He wanted to be with her, to see how far she could grow, to watch her light move him in ways he never thought possible, and to see those eyes overflow with determination and fearlessness.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he skillfully rubbed the salve on her neck, carefully dressed it with bandages, and then got dressed himself. Strapping on his sword, he started walking for the bedroom door, and that's when another feeling that had been absent in his heart was born – apprehension.

Will you be all right waking up by yourself after you were attacked last night? Would it be so bad to just wait another hour….but what if she doesn’t wake up then?

“Tch, this is stupid,” he says while turning back towards the bed.

He noticed the strap of her nightgown had slipped from her shoulder, and before placing it back in its proper place, he leaned over he gently bit it. “You’re nothin' but a pain in the ass, ya know that?”

“Nnng-Jude?” she groggily called out his name and when Jude saw her smiling happily at him, he pinched her cheek and told her to keep her voice down.

“Nnn….oouch.” Jude snickered at her and then soothed the pinched area with his thumb. Pretty cute when she whines in pain. Ha, I’m gonna make ya cry out more than that just ya wait. Watching her lean her cheek into his palm with a slightly provocative look on her face, Jude commanded her, “Back to bed princess.”

“Work....hard”, she mumbled.

There were many things that he expected you to say to him, but “work hard”, was not one of them. He had half expected her to ask him to stay with her since she was still probably still shaken up from last night, but that’s just who she was - someone who was as resilient as she is bold.

“Just who do ya think you’re talking to? 'Course, I will.”

Jude gently scoffed at her with a sweet smile when she quickly shot up up on her knees, swung her arms around his neck, and kissed him goodbye. Jude was taken by surprise, but the small current of electricity from her soft lips urged his hand to trace the small of her back and return a sweet kiss. The tips of their tongues tickled and teased at the each other for a few moments longer, filling the dimly lit room with sounds of intimate morning greetings, as it would be for many days to come…….

Later that morning she joined the other members of Crown for a lively breakfast, greeting them with an even brighter smile than usual. Everything was as it should be and as every one chatted, she learned that not only had Jude almost kicked Liam’s head in with his foot while hurling abuses at him for putting her in danger, he also threatened William for assisting Liam, and demanded restitution from them both before he left the castle that morning.

Naturally, both men gladly offered to pay Jude for the trouble, Liam with the most regretful countenance, and William with a most unaffected one. Apparently, Jude was so angry that he grabbed William by the collar, which shocked almost everyone who walked in on the scene, but no one dared to intervene.

Alfons laughed as the recounted the entertaining memory to her, “Ahaha, guess how much Liam has to pay Jude?! Up to half of his earnings from both Crown and La Scala for the next six months! And our dear king of Crown has to invest in Jude's business for the next half year as well!”

“It's not very nice of Jude to threaten someone like that......but I can understand his anger.....when something beautiful is almost stolen from you," said Elbert as he finally took a bite of an apple slice that Alfons had been trying to force feed him.

Liam couldn’t take it anymore and decided to throw himself at her feet begging for forgiveness, as he explained his motive to her and berated himself at the same time for making yet another mistake. Looking at him with pity, she gently stroked his head that was laying on her lap.

“It’s….not your fault Liam. You didn’t know he’d do something like that to me, and because of you and William, Jude and I are together again, so thank you.”

Teary rose-colored eyes looked up at her as he was soothed by her words of reassurance, and although he still lamented that Jude probably hated him, the dramatic spectacle over. Although, deep down she quietly wondered if William really had no inkling at all. Roger stood up from the table and slung his gun on his back to leave, “Well, I hope you've learned your lesson. I'm off to go hunting.”

“Hunting?” she asked.

“That's right, lil' lady. I need specimens for my experiment. See you later.”

No sooner had Roger left did Victor come bursting through the door with a basket of aromatic pastries, and crescent smile on his face.

“GOOOD MORNING, my beloved cursed ones!!!! And our lovely Robin too! Now, now Liam none of that! You weren't tortured and you're still alive, so that means that Jude doesn't totally hate you. Now, eat up.”

Liam obeyed Victor with little push back, and was soon back to his whimsical self as he munched on the buttery scones given to him. Asking one of the maids in her elementary version of sign language, she received a copy of the newspaper and began to scan over the financial section. She thought that it would be best to become more knowledgeable about the trends of the market now that she would be working more closely with Jude. Unable to make any sense of it, she gave up and decided to should study up on business first prior trying to understand foreign jargon. Turning her attention to the front page she began to peruse it. After studying her for a bit, William asked if there was anything of interest printed on it, so skimming the front page a little more quickly.

“Hmm, I don't think so. Let's see....there's reconstruction taking place at a nearby park........the amount of stray dogs in London are recently at an all time low.......Hmm. Oh! I almost missed this, “Soon to Open: Deux's Emporia – A Collection of Curiosities, Baubles, and Wonders from Around the World.”

“How exciting! When does it open? We should take a field trip, and then go shopping at Harrods!” Victor's eyes were shining, but soon lost their luster, “Ah, well. That shall have to wait I'm afraid.” He takes a small note card from his breast pocket and gives it to her, and after recognizing Jude's script she quickly read’s it.

“Was late to work ‘cause of ya, Princess. There's a pile of contract renewals that need to be retyped. Start with those, ‘n don't even think ‘bout leavin’ the castle for the time bein’, ‘specially without a Crown member. - Your Beloved Jude Jazza.”

Spiteful and to the point, at least that's how it seemed on the surface, but knowing Jude, he likely wanted her to rest at the castle safely. Although, the contracts are probably payback for delaying him this morning, they're also probably meant to help keep her mind busy. She let out a slight sigh and replied to Victor with a smile.

“It seems you're right. I'm going to be quite busy for the time being.”

[Chapitre Trois] [Master List]

@ichigostellaglynn @mrslelouch @atelierquinn

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