#look I may go ahead and be the first to admit that this story was above my skill level and resources / w.e. but I still wrote some stuff

[veterveter]

Happiest of birthdays to the most dearly beloved @sorrydearie !!!

I have written for the occasion, yet again ill-advisedly. For being lovely & being my friend, you get the *checks notes* angst you pitched to me. There is fluff there though, if you make it to the end. (It's like a reward.)

So it takes Andrés a month before he cracks, all because it becomes tiresome, in the end. To tell Martín a story, and repeat it, and repeat it, and repeat it. To watch their plan turn from a near-complete masterpiece to a work still in progress, to witness their greatest discoveries become undone.

[minhosbxtch]

Snap

Eris x reader

This was longer than I planned but oh well :)

Also if you can spot the Aaron Warner reference you get 10 points

Lmk if I should make a part 2

Warnings: SH by fire, language, drinking?, slight spicy at the end but no smut

Mother, this entire thing was awful. You were pining after Azriel who was pining after Elain who was mated to Lucien.

Elain. You tried to like her and continued to be kind to her but she never failed to piss you off. How did someone with no personality, no fire, have not one, but two great, hard-working males wrapped around her finger.

Why would Azriel want you though? You were the one Rhys told to do all his dirty work. You were his personal hit-man.

You worked up quite the reputation, never failing a job, never getting distracted. You had worked your way into the Inner Circle by being loyal and quite the secret keeper.

But it had its perks. Like right now you were invited to the ball in the Hewn City.

Since people were still arriving you were still standing in front of Nesta who was standing in front of Cassian, to his delight.

You loved them both dearly and wished only for them to be happy, but you were jealous. You wanted what they had, or what Rhys and Feyre had. Someone who would unconditionally love you. Someone that would fight for you. Someone that would burn the world for you.

Hopefully that person being Azriel.

You and Nesta bonded over your love for the villains in stories. You would gossip for hours on your favorite romance books where the hero would fall for the villain, and then get hurt and the villain would be furious and all protective.

Well that was until she found Cassian.

Now it was all 'Sorry I can't I'm going out with Cassian.'

You were happy for them, truly. But you craved that more than anything. Something to fill your loneliness. Someone to fill your loneliness.

Your hands smoothed down the skirts of your black dress as you watched the people dance and drink.

You could see Keir out of the corner of your eye talking to a male. He was unfamiliar to you. He was one of the most beautiful males you'd seen, and that was saying something since you lived with the Bat Boys and Lucien.

Holy shit that's Eris.

You didn't recognize him at first without his long hair. But you had to admit, it brought out the sharpness of his face even more. His golden eyes seemed to pierce through Keir as he towered over the male.

Eris met your eyes and grinned, tilting his head. Clenching your jaw, you pulled your eyes away from him, looking dead ahead at nothing.

You could see him and Keir begin to approach the dais that the throne sat on. Still, you remained staring straight ahead.

You did sneak a glance as he bowed to Rhys and Feyre, which was more of incline of his head. Quickly, you changed your features into a sneer, like you were above having to bow.

But when Eris did come up from "bowing", he wasn't looking at the High Lord or High Lady. No, he was looking at you. His gaze still remained on you as Rhysand welcomed him. He steadily met your eyes, only dropping once to look at the quite revealing gown you had on.

Your blood burned through your veins as you continued to meet his gold eyes.

"Well Eris, you may have a dance with her if you wish since you are clearly so distracted," Rhys said nonchalantly, in the voice of the High Lord.

At once Eris' eyes snapped to Rhysand before saying, "Thank you my Lord," before bowing yet again before starting towards you.

If you hadn't trained yourself to show no emotion you might've turned to Rhysand and laughed.

Sorry, Rhys spoke in your mind, sounding amused.

Fucking hell, you'd have to get Feyre to try to help figure out a way to send a mental death stare. It probably wouldn't have been the best idea to send your High Lord a glare that promised hell in front of Eris, Keir, and the entire Court of Nightmares.

Eris stopped a stair below you and gave you a bow, lower that the one he gave for Rhys and Feyre, before extending his hand to you.

His eyes seemed almost unsure, but since there was an audience you took his hand and before you could move to the floor, he bowed his head and kissed your hand.

It unnerved you. Not that he kissed your hand but his eyes remained on your face the entire time. Even though he wasn't smirking, you could see the male pride in his eyes.

His hand and lips were warm, but a nice, homey kind of heat instead of the sweaty, humid type that Cassian tended to give off.

The Inner Circle's shock was almost tangible. Not just the fact that he kissed your hand but also that he stood a step below you and bowed, far lower to you the the High Lord and Lady.

You were surprised too but you didn't show it.

You. An assassin. A nobody before you worked your ass off to prove yourself to the Inner Circle.

You were still in shock when he swept you to the dance floor before the song began and bowed to you, yet again, but this time it was almost mocking. His smirking face as he bowed, eyes never leaving your face.

He carefully intertwined his fingers with yours before putting his hand on your waist, his sharp eyes never leaving your face.

It didn't make sense. All of the tales of how awful and wicked didn't seem to line up to the male that stood in front of you. The male that bowed to you twice and not once looked at you in a way that made your skin crawl or feel even slightly uncomfortable.

But hell this was nice. Especially the fact that out of everyone in the ballroom he chose you.

The only reason you could even dance was because of your elegance. But that came from being an assassin and learning how to step carefully around the puddles of blood to not get your new shoes bloody.

You looked into his molten eyes as he began to lead you through the steps of the dance. You had a similar sense of etherealness as Nesta, but you had no idea what you were doing. Still, you did not falter. When you did a complicated twirl, Eris was right there, hands warm on your waist, spinning you.

After a grand flourish he caught you as the music ended. You both were panting and your faces were very very very close together.

Too close to look accidental.

You were sure your cheeks were bright red, and not from the dance.

Eris smiled softly and gently pulled you back up, righting you and then stepping away. When no one asked to switch partners he gave you a sly, questioning look to which you nodded.

The song that started playing was much slower and involved a lot less grand flourishes than the previous ones did.

You put both hands on his shoulders as he put both hands on your waist.

Since this one was slower, the only thing you could do was talk since there was not a lot of movement.

The silence was unbearable. Damn it. Why was this so hard? Usually talking and getting information came easy.

Putting on the uncaring facade you said sneering, "Your hair looked better long." You almost groaned out loud, mentally slapping yourself for your poor conversation tactics.

To be honest his hair didn't matter. He looked beautiful either way, but the short hair gave him a cold, sharp, godly look.

He chuckled before saying, "If you liked it better then I'll grow it back out for you. But not as messy as that brute."

"Cassian is nothing even close to a brute, so watch your fucking mouth asshole," you seethed.

Eris gave you a warning look and bent down close to your face to whisper, "Language princess. Only those who cannot express themselves intelligently would resort to such crude substitutions in vocabulary."

Shit your palms definitely were sweaty. And Eris' warmth wasn't helping.

Especially the fact he called you princess.

He, clearly also picked up on your sweaty palms, asking mockingly, "Is it because I intimidate you? Am I making you nervous?"

Mother you had no idea what to say. So, you stayed quiet, glaring at the wall over his shoulder.

"Calm down love. We are all just joking around, are we not?"

"Well if you continue to 'joke around' then you won't have anything to joke around with."

He remained silent at that for a long while.

"There are no words to describe how beautiful you look tonight," he said quietly.

Your eyes widened at the change in conversation before saying the first thing that came to mind. "Are you saying I don't usually look beautiful?"

He smirked and looked you up and down as he said, "No no no. I was just saying, usually I see you in tight, assassin clothes, which those make you look seductive, but right now you look absolutely delicious," his voice dropped at the end of the sentence.

"Well you don't look to bad yourself," you said, cheeks flushed.

Well that was an understatement. He wore a orange sharp cut suit with gold accents that accentuated his muscles. And Mother, his muscles.

They were perfect. He was muscular but lean. He was perfect. Enough to forget about the dark haired, lean handsome male standing on the dais.

"Why thank you love, but I'm afraid I'm nothing in comparison to your loveliness," he said, leaning down to your ear.

Your cheeks were definitely bright red as you said, "Mother you're a shameless flirt," while trying to suppress a smile.

"Well only for you, darling," he said, smirking, "After all, it's not often I'm in the presence of an extravagant goddess."

"Well, I'm certainly not a goddess," you said smiling, your mask cracking.

He feigned a look of surprise, "That's impossible. There's no Fae, Illyrian, or mortal that even holds a candle to your beauty."

You laughed but your smile faded as Cassian approached saying, "Sorry to interrupt you both but Rhysand requires your presence," he said nodding to you.

You give Cassian a nod, before turning to Eris and curtsying mockingly, “Terribly sorry, but my High Lord requires my presence.”

Eris nodded in understanding before saying, “Of course. As long as you save me a couple dances later.”

You turned around to reply, but he was gone. Frowning you walked up towards the dais and curtseyed before asking, “How may I assist you, High Lord, High Lady?”

Rhys just motioned you to take the spot you were in earlier.

Washing your face of any emotion, you did as you were told. Standing on the same step as you did earlier, you could see a sudden flash of red hair.

You shifted slightly but it was not Eris, but Lucien who stood with Elain on his arm. Resisting the urge to smirk at Azriel, you continued to scan the crowd for Eris.

Looking for someone? An amused voice said inside your head.

No. I was seeing if there was any threats. You weren't technically lying, Eris was a son of a rival High Lord, classifying him as someone to keep an eye on.

Like the one you danced with earlier? Rhys said.

You didn't respond but turned around to make eye contact and gave him a glare that had sent men running. His eyes flashed and he shifted in his seat before giving you a warning look.

What? If I dance with him then there's no time to double cross us.

Very well. Just don't let him deceive you. Rhys relented.

You had no intention to let him deceive you. You were stupid for being caught off guard by earlier. A few pretty words and you were reduced to a defenseless, blushing maiden.

No.

You were a fucking assassin, and you let someone get in your head? No, that wouldn't happen again.

Two could play at this game.

After winding through the crowd for several minutes, you still hadn't spotted the Eris Vanserra. All of the butterflies in your stomach had disappeared. Eris was just another of your targets.

Something else to conquer.

That was all.

People had given you a wide berth for the cold, calculated look on your face.

They knew you were hunting.

Several of them had kept their eyes on you as you prowled around the ballroom, trying to find your prey.

After a couple more minutes you gave up and started back towards the dais.

Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian were not up there. Now that you noticed it, they weren't anywhere in here.

They're probably doing business with Eris.

Yes. That would be the most reasonable solution. Still, the unnerving feeling didn't go away, if anything, it got stronger.

People. There were too many people. They crowded you, they were trapping you.

The feeling started in your stomach as an uncomfortable lump. You could feel it spreading. Speeding your heart rate up and making your limbs feel like they weighed ten-fold. The lump in your stomach starting traveled until it was sitting in your throat. Now your stomach felt empty and your throat had an uncomfortable lump in it that prevented you from breathing comfortably.

There wasn't enough air. Your body felt too hot and too cold at the same time. You felt feverish.

Your steps began to pick up speed as you rushed to the set of double doors that led to the hallway outside.

You burst through the door and gulped big breaths of air, nearly panting. The warm, sweaty feeling was left in the ballroom with all the crowds of people.

You sat on one of the benches and leaned your head back against the wall, relishing in the feel of the cool air in the drafty hallway.

Only a couple minutes later, something gave a hard tug in your chest. So forceful it was almost painful. At first, you thought you imagined it before it happened again, more urgently this time. Still, you ignored it, content to sitting on your bench.

After the second tug, you waited a few minutes outside to make sure it was over.

Smoothing your dress and hair you entered the ballroom again to see that Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian were back.

When Rhysand saw you enter he spoke in your mind saying to go join them up on the steps.

After you took your place, Rhys stood up and said in a booming voice, "Terribly sorry to say, but my Inner Circle and I have things to discuss and things to do."

No one cared. Honestly, they were probably happier to see you go just as much as you were to leave.

As one, you and the Inner Circle came together and winnowed out of Hewn City.

As the familiar streets of Velaris came into view you could hear Cassian say, "Mother I need a drink. Who's coming with me?"

Mor snorted before saying, "I already wasn't sober when we got there but I need more after that," she turned to you before asking, "You wanna go to?"

You shook your head before saying quietly, "I don't need a drink, I need some fucking sleep."

Usually you would since Azriel usually went but now you needed to sort through your own mess.

"Of course you do. You were with Eris," she said, looking at you with sympathy.

For some reason that made you angry. Saying nothing you clenched your jaw at her words.

Feyre, Mother bless her, saved you from your anger by saying with a smile, "Here I'm going to go back too. You go enjoy your fun."

Feyre was truly a gift from the Mother.

Only you and Feyre weren't going to Rita's. They all would get brain dead drunk, and poor Azriel had to go be responsible and get them home.

"So... What was going on with you and Eris. I thought you were going to launch yourself at Mor earlier," the High Lady said softly.

Instead of replying, you just took your mental walls down and showed her everything. You knew she was able to sense every feeling you had and at this point you didn't care. It was some much easier than explaining to her.

She remained silent beside you, processing what happened. "Well I think he actually likes you," she started. "Really! When he danced with Nesta he didn't genuinely compliment her like that. Much less bow and kiss her hand," she said at your skeptical look.

"And there's also the fact that he stood on a lower stair then you and then bowed to you. I know you know this, your just ignoring it," Feyre said, calling you out.

"Yeah I'm ignoring it. All of you hate him and there's no point in trying to pursue anything anyways," you said, rolling your eyes.

"And did something happen?" You asked.

"What do you mean?"

You tried to find the words but gave up, showing her instead when felt the tugs.

"I don't know what that means," Feyre said cautiously, "Here we'll talk more about this tomorrow."

She was hiding something. You'd corner her tomorrow about it when you were less tired and less emotional.

After exchanging your goodnights, you started for your room. It used to be an empty guest room until Rhys had given it to you and told you to decorate it however you want.

At first the room had been so dreary. Everything was black. Black shelves, sheets, blankets, paint, doors. When you started spending more time in your room, you began to redecorate it where it was almost unrecognizable.

The walls were painted the lightest green and the shelves, desks, nightstands, dresser, and bedframe had been painted dark brown, almost black. All over the room there were plants. No flowers, just green ferns, succulents, and cacti. There was swirls of ivy that went along the shelves, headboard and ceiling.

You had replaced the chandelier with one that was almost like crystal leaves. The couches were dark wood with sage green cushions and orange pillows. Your bed pallet was similar as the couches. All of the books you had collected had been neatly organized along the shelves and anywhere you had space.

Several Solstices ago, Feyre had gotten you lights that you could hang along the walls change color. They were always set to a nice medium orange that reflected perfectly against the rest of the room.

The place was entirely unrecognizable.

Unfortunately, no one had been in your room to notice.

You splashed the makeup off your face, unglamoured your skin, and took your dress off, sighing in relief from the tight grip. Getting into sleep clothes you immediately collapsed into bed and sleep took you away.

You were dreaming.

All you saw was blood. And someone was screaming. Loud, gut-wrenching screams of pure undiluted terror.

You were holding a silver sword, but your hands... they weren't yours. They were much larger and veiner, and honestly, quite hot.

You felt like you and whoever this was were only one person, that you shared all thoughts, feelings, and emotions.

You were one and the same.

Banishing that thought from your mind, you watched as the person approached a man sitting in a chair who was watching as a slender, auburn haired women was being held down and backhanded over and over.

The anger that coursed through you was red hot flames as you raised the sword over the man's head and swung.

Beron's head rolled on the ground, his crown rolling to a stop at your feet. The guards stopped and looked over.

Immediately they let the lady go, but you could only watch through a red haze as the sword came down and down again on each guard.

Dropping the sword the person sank to their knees next to the women.

She quickly scooted back as your skin became itching, burning, like an army of ants was crawling under your skin.

In a sudden, harsh wave of agony, your vision went black yet again.

You woke up violently to Cassian pounding your door saying that he was the one who drank all night and was still up before you.

Rolling your eyes you shut the door in his face. Judging by his yelling, he didn't like your attitude.

Well too bad. You felt like absolute shit. Similar to how you felt last night, the feverish, itchy sensation was back, and much stronger.

You needed to tell Feyre about what you saw, who you saw.

As you got dressed, the dream started fading quickly until you only remembered important parts, like the hot hands.

Less than 10 minutes later, you went downstairs to see no one there but a note scribbled hastily on the table.

Y/N,

I'm sure you've noticed already that we aren't there. There was a conflict that we needed to take care of. I sent Cassian to make sure you were awake before telling him to come with us. You can have the day off.

Feyre

Well then. Your going back to bed since there was no reason for you to be awake.

Except you couldn't.

After laying in bed for hours you couldn't fall asleep, especially since your skin was crawling.

With a huff you turned over only to see Feyre's painting of the Inner Court, including you, sitting on your bedside table.

She had gifted it to you last Solstice with the intention of making you feel like you belonged. While you appreciated her sweet intentions it did the complete opposite.

Her and Rhysand were in the center where they stood smiling, bent over Nyx, who was sound asleep. Next to Feyre stood Gwyn who was smiling at Nyx with her arm wrapped around Nesta's shoulders who clearly was trying not to smile at Cassian, who had an arm wrapped around her waist and was leaning down next to her ear. Behind Nesta stood Emerie who looked so precious as she grinned from ear to ear, standing, arms linked with Mor, who as usual, looked perfect.

You were standing next to Mor and was peeking at Nyx over Rhys' shoulder with Lucien on your other side, smiling towards the frame.

The only mistake you think she made was his eyes. Lucien's eyes looked happy, joyful. Despite that on just the other side of him stood Azriel, who had his arm around Elain and they were giving each other lovey-dovey eyes.

In reality, Lucien's eyes would be bitter and yours would be dull as well.

Gwyn would be another option for Azriel, but that didn't bother you as much as Elain did.

She had a sweet, supportive, respectful, smart mate who put no pressure on her to immediately accept the bond and even distanced himself from her to give her room to breath. And yet, even then, she went for another male.

But part of you couldn't blame her. Part of you said that if you were that pretty than maybe people would actually want you.

To silence those voices and thoughts you reached to the candle you kept beside your bed and held it in your lap.

You rolled up your sleeve to reveal the precise burn marks all along your forearm. They were in perfect lines, wrapping all around your arm up past your elbow.

Your other arm looked the same.

You were running out of room.

Before you could rethink your decision you held the flame up to your arm and bit your lip hard to keep quiet.

You genuinely didn't feel any emotion other then self-hatred, so you stared at the light, eyes dry, face blank.

5 hours later, Feyre and the others showed up, clearly exhausted by whatever happened.

A couple minutes later you received a summoning to Rhys' office. Inside sat him and Feyre, looking grave.

With a nod as a greeting, you sat down in front of them and politely asked, "How can I be of assistance?"

"So polite. Well darling isn't it nice to see you again. Not even a hello?" a voice drawled out from the corner of the room.

You sighed before saying, still facing forward, "Hello Eris."

He came into your line of vision and leaned against the desk and said, "Hello princess. So this is what you wear when I'm not around."

You turned your head coolly towards him before sucking in a breath.

He had a large bruise on his temple, jaw, and cheek and a deep cut along his opposite cheek, yet he almost seemed to glow with power. His eyes burned bright gold yet they seemed tired.

"I know I'm beautiful love, but you don't need to gape," he said, trying to put effort into a smirk.

As much as you tried to quell it, you couldn't deny the anger that rushed through you at his appearance.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" You demanded.

At your outburst, Eris raised an eyebrow and smirked before saying, "I'm flattered, love. I had no idea how much you cared."

Ignoring his remark you asked, "Was it Beron? Is that why you cut his head off?"

His smirk only grew wider. "So you did see that."

"See what?" Rhysand spoke up.

You shifted your eyes to him, saying, "I had a dream where a women was getting backhanded, over and over by soldiers. And I was in someone else's body and they cut his head off."

His eyebrows rose before asking, "And when were you going to inform us of this?"

"Considering I had the dream last night, I was planning to tell you today," you shot back.

At Eris' chuckle you sent him a dark glare which he returned with another smirk.

"Show me," Rhys demanded.

It took him a minute or two before he looked back at you and said, "What you saw was true. Eris is now High Lord and Beron was killed by him. You know exactly why and how you saw that, don't you?"

You stiffened and refused to look at Eris. "Yes," was all you said.

Rhysand nodded and said, "That is what we were meeting about today so you are dismissed."

Still averting your eyes, you walked out into the hallway but you only got a few steps in before someone grabbed your wrist, lightly tugging you around.

It was Eris.

You looked at him with disregard and asked, "Yes?"

He gave you a pointed look at your arm, to which you stiffened even more, before asking, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you said before turning around to walk away.

Another tug had you facing him again.

Exasperated, you asked, "What do you want?"

"I want you," was all he said before quickly adding, "and for you to be okay and not hurt yourself."

At your untrusting look he blew out a breath of air and continued, "You realize I can feel your emotions. We're mates whether you want to admit it or not. You also showed me that."

You opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off by stepping closer and saying, "And as much as you hate it, you want me. I know you want me princess. Almost as much as I want you."

You didn't say anything but your cheeks might've for you. They were certainly a deep red.

Eris chuckled before tilting your chin up and looking you dead in the eyes, saying, "I won't pressure you into this, but I ask that you at least give me some conside--"

You pulled him down by his collar and kissed him briefly.

His eyes were wide before smiling and forcing you backwards against the wall before kissing you again, longer this time.

Gently, Eris held you against the wall, weak enough that you could escape if you wanted to.

But you didn't.

Mother you didn't.

He felt right. One of his hands was on your cheek occasionally tangling in your hair, the other on the curve of your waist.

His body gave off the similar warmth that he did at the ball but this time, he was significantly warmer, or maybe that was you.

Eris let out a sigh, something akin to a moan against your lips as you tugged on his hair roughly. Both of his hands slid towards your thighs and pulled them up to settle them around his waist. You could feel how hard he was in between your legs.

Your higher position gave him easy access to your neck, making you let out a quiet whine as he bit and sucked down your jaw to your collarbone.

You grabbed his head and forced it back up to kiss again, tongues fighting for dominance.

"If you both could take this somewhere else instead of in my hallway that would be much appreciated," yelled Rhys from inside his office.

Both of you tore apart and came to your senses. Eris gently lowered you back down and cleared his throat, color dusting his cheeks.

"I have to go back to the Autumn Court, but I will try to visit as much as I am able to. And love, don't do that anymore," he said with a pointed glance at your arms, eyes flaring.

You just nodded, to breathless for words.

Before you got the chance to turn around, Eris stopped you saying, "If you'd want it, there will always be a place for you in my Court."

Hesitating you said, "I will discuss it with Feyre and Rhys."

You really wanted to go with him. A High Lord, your mate? It was too good to be true. But, you still have duties her and it wouldn't be great for Court relations if you just left.

You tried to silently convey your feelings to Eris without words since your High Lord and Lady were definitely listening.

His eyes softened and he nodded in understanding.

He would wait.

[fxllfaiiry]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ୨୧  :  ꒰  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊  ꒱  ♡ ˚₊‧

⌗ synopsis : some nsfw and sfw miguel headcanons.

⌗ cw : both fluff and smut. swearing, use of yn like once, some angst, thigh riding, titty fucking, size kink, mentions of crying and pain kink, breeding kink.

⌗ notes : REPOST!! someone flagged this post and I worked really hard on writing this fic so it's annoying and it makes me upset, please don't flag it again, just scroll away. please, please reblog!!!

✰ miguel o'hara makes you watch him work out because he knows how flustered you get when he's sweaty and shirtless. he'll also make you sit on his back while he's doing push-ups, exaggerating every move just to tease you.

✰ when he's not in his spiderman suit, he sometimes likes to wear the tightest shirts around you, he knows those shirts do his arms justice.

✰ the only person he's scared of is you. if you don't want him to do something, he won't do it. end of story.

✰ you occasionally like to tease him by randomly slapping his ass or saying things like:  

"how are your tits bigger than mine?"

"teach me your workout routine"

"damn, that ass looks good"

"you definitely have a big dick"

✰ you are the only person who can make miguel o'hara flustered.

✰ you love to kiss him every time he pouts, it's the cutest thing ever.

✰ when you guys are in public he shows little to no pda, but he smiles a lot more than usual.

✰ he may never admit it, but he loves cuddles :)) he loves to cage you in his arms and place kisses wherever he can reach. it's very soothing and helps him fall asleep.

✰ loves to watch you cook while hugging you from behind.

✰ playfully pretends to bite you every now and then, he looks all big and scary but he does have a soft side.

✰ remember the scene with lyla and miguel where she made him say please before calling for backup? yeah imagine that with you.

"yn, go call for backup now."

"excuse me? is this how you talk to your wife?" you huff glaring at him.

"I don't have time for this right now, just do it, okay?" he grumbles.

"not until you say it."   "no-"

"fine, no backup then." you start walking away from him ready to leave, until -

"okay, okay. baby, will you p-please call for backup?" he whispers.

"louderr"

"baby, will you please call for backup?"

"yeah I already did, but I enjoyed that"

✰ slowly learns to open up to you about his trauma, it takes some time but once he's ready you guys spend hours talking to each other.

✰ he can never stay mad at you for too long, most of the time he's the first to apologize.

✰ if you cry because of him he'll do anything to make it up to you. he'll make you your favorite meal to cheer you up and then later hold you tightly against him apologizing over and over again.  

✰ everyone teases him for being so soft around you, sometimes you join in as well.

"yeah, miggy, did I turn you into a giant soft teddy bear, hm?

"dear god, please shut up."

                  ୨୧　:　꒰ nsfw ahead  ꒱　　♡

✰ this man is the king of aftercare, cuddling with you and whispering how good you were. he'll even run you a bath afterward and shower you with affection.

✰ makes you get off on his thigh because he knows how much you love riding it, he loves how wet it gets with your arousal, making you clean it up afterwards.

✰ definitely is into fucking your tities, he has no control and starts to rut his hips like an animal. he admires how pretty your tits and face look afterwards covered in his cum.

✰ is addicted to eating you out, thrusting his tongue into your hole for hours and hours, he's addicted to your taste. miguel also conveniences you to ride his face and use him as you please, all he wants is to be suffocated between your thighs.

✰ he can usually smell when you're horny for him, if he's at work and this happens then it's an awkward situation, because he desperately wants to fucking rail you in the nearest empty room. oh, and he also has to hide his boner from everyone.

✰ uses his strength to hold you up against the wall and fuck you hard and fast.

✰ he knows how big he is and mocks you about how you won't be able to fit him in your tiny pussy.

"are you sure it'll fit, mami?"

"your pussy is so tiny, mama. I don't think you'll be able to take it"

✰ winds you up by rubbing his cock up and down your pussy without putting it in, he barely has any patience himself, seeing his cock glisten with your wetness makes him lose his mind.

✰ miguel will slap your cunt as a punishment until you're clenching around nothing and crying while begging him to fuck you.  

✰ leaves love bites everywhere as a reminder that you are his and his only.

✰ you'll wear his favorite shade of lipstick before sucking him off, leaving the lipstick's imprint on his dick.

✰ breeds you like an animal, fucking you raw for hours and filling you up in every position. nothing will leak out on his watch and if it does, then he'll shove it back in using his fingers. he will lick up everything from your overestimated cunt ignoring your soft whimpers of "papi, it hurts."

✰ ties you up with his webbing and uses you as his personal toy.

✰ loves to take you from behind, smacking your ass and leaving handprints, because he's mezmeriozed by the way it jiggles every time. while he's hitting it from behind he's so rough and messy, coating you with his seed all over your ass and back, filling you up to the brim, and making sure you don't walk the next day.

✰ talking back to him will only lead to him rubbing your clit and edging you till your clit is red and engorged to the point where the throbbing has become unbearable. he might take pity and finally fuck your weeping hole.

"finally learned your lesson, mama?"

✰ soft sex is also a yes!! he may be rough and all but he loves to dot on you, whispering praises into your ear while holding you oh so delicately against his body.

[copperbadge]

I've finally decided to stop waiting for my friends and my schedules to all line up, and take myself on vacation. You seem to be someone who travels on your own semi-frequently. Do you have tips and tricks on how to make it less awkward on your own, or does that just not bother you?

Ah, congratulations! I hope you enjoy your solo journeying.

I have to admit that I don't get a lot of awkwardness as a solo traveler, or if I do, I don't notice. I think to begin with, in general dudes get less side-eye about doing anything solitary. I didn't even consider that traveling alone was seen as strange until I was in my thirties, I think, and other people started remarking on it -- not in an awkward way, just like "Wow I wish I could do that." (You can!)

Not everyone is comfortable with it, admittedly, and I get that, like anything it's not for everyone. And there are legit safety concerns women face that men don't, although I think also those tend to get blown out of proportion by our culture -- like the peril is real, I'm not saying women don't face safety issues when traveling solo, but the dangers aren't as constant and immediate as people think.

I just really love solo travel, because I get to do exactly what I want, eat what I want, skip things I decide I don't want to do. I'm kind of a people pleaser (this may not be news) and I don't mind doing what other folks want to do but sometimes that can come at the expense of what I want to do, which simply isn't a concern when I travel by myself.

In my experience, which is admittedly not universal, I find that there isn't really much awkwardness from solo travel most of the time -- it's harder to, for example, be in an airport alone, because there's nobody to mind your bags if you need to hit the bathroom, nobody to ask if you need something you didn't think to pack. But it's not like I've ever gotten a weird look for going through airport security alone, or checking into a hotel room alone. I think it does help to remember that people who work in hospitality have seen it ALL, and a single person checking into a hotel room doesn't even register. Like, if you aren't getting drunk and pooping in the decorative planters in the lobby, you aren't making an impression. :D Tour guides are very used to single people taking tours, and for all the train conductor or flight attendant knows, you're traveling to wherever you're going to meet up with 15 of your closest friends. Half the time I've checked into hotel rooms alone, it's been for work and I'm meeting 5-10 colleagues, and I just happen to be the first person to arrive at the site.

The only time I ever encounter much awkwardness is in a cab/rideshare, or eating alone, and even with eating alone, like, I went out to eat on my own for probably a solid decade before anyone remarked that it was a weird thing to do. But I've never particularly gotten that from waitstaff; like, occasionally I'll get a "Just one?" or "Dining alone?" but that's not really awkward, to my mind. I felt a little weird about it in Europe but that wasn't because I was solo, it was because I didn't speak the language. I was fine with it in England.

For cabs or rideshares, and this is true not just when traveling but also when I'm traveling locally in Chicago, I tend to come up with a "cover story" ahead of time in case the driver is chatty. I rarely say anymore that I work in fundraising, because while it does shut some people up (they don't want to be asked for a donation) others will be like "Hey could you fundraise for me, I have this great idea for a nonprofit knitting alpaca-wool socks...for alpacas!" and I have to be like "That's not really how this works." Usually I say I'm an art historian because a) I can fake that pretty well in casual conversation and b) nobody knows what follow-up question to ask. Academia of any kind is a great cover if you are traveling, because you can say "I'm here on business with (local museum you are visiting as a tourist) but I signed an NDA, so I can't really talk about it" and you seem mysterious plus you add excitement to the driver's day. Are you a spy? An art thief? Are you about to discover a new Van Gogh? Are you consulting with the science museum about a Bigfoot specimen?

But yeah I think the most important thing to bear in mind is that nobody really looks at other people and thinks, "That's weird, why are they alone?" Like in an ordinary day, I don't ever see a person alone on the bus or in a shop or whatnot and think, "That's weird, why don't they have someone with them?" We do tend to think people are judging us, but honestly most people aren't even noticing us, let alone forming opinions. And if they are, I think it's a great comfort to know that especially when traveling...we will never see them again :D

Anyway, good luck! Remember, even if you did forget to pack something, as long as you have your phone, your wallet, your meds, and your keys, anything else can be acquired or lived without.

[charlotte-of-wales]

A speech by The Duchess of Edinburgh at the Community Sport and Recreation Awards, at Headingley Stadium, Leeds, ahead of The Duke of Edinburgh’s 60th birthday:

First may I say how wonderful it is to be here with so many people who are doing so much to change lives through grassroots sport. There have been some remarkable stories that have been honoured today and a particular congratulations to Fulham Reach Boat Club for being recognised as Community Club of the Year.

If I may, I beg your indulgence for a few minutes, as I wanted to also take this opportunity to recognise another great milestone and share a small tribute to my darling husband as he celebrates his 60th Birthday, this Sunday.

Now I know from the many years of marriage we have chalked up, 25 years in June to be precise, he will be horrified at seeing me up here speaking about him in public. Without looking at him, I am guessing he will now be sitting back with slightly narrowed eyes, possibly with his arms folded, or one arm stretched out across the table and to all intents and purposes looking identical to his father when I made speeches about him.

I twice spoke about The late Duke of Edinburgh in his presence, on both occasions feeling like I was about to launch myself out of an airplane without a parachute, but holding on to the vague hope of a soft landing. You have to appreciate that my father-in-law never liked anyone to pay him compliments, believing that it was the organisations he supported that were important, not him.

However, the fact that I wasn't in the doghouse after either of the speeches reassured me that I hadn't at least committed any major faux pas and I was therefore able to stand the getaway cars down.

So, like then and with my husband of the same opinion as my father-in-law, and with fresh fully fuelled cars at the ready here goes – as I give you more of an insight of the man to whom I am so proud to be married.

Edward is probably best known for his support of the youth organisation the DofE, founded by his father which takes much of his time as he chairs committees, writes strategies as he helps to guide and shape the current activities and future of the charity in the UK and across the world. He challenges those who lead it, encourages others who work within it or support it, and loves meeting and chatting with those who benefit from it. You can only guess the number of hours he devotes to this, the most inspiring of youth charities.

Beyond the DofE, he passionately supports an array of other charities and organisations, each of which he takes as seriously. Whether it be focussing on the sporting endeavours from athletes around the Commonwealth both able and disabled; encouraging organisations offering opportunities for people to gain access to sport and activities such as the fantastic work of the Sport and Recreation Alliance, which we are celebrating today; working throughout the arts with young talented musicians, or seasoned professionals who enrich our society, or visiting and encouraging the wonderful Central Caribbean Marine Institute which does so much to protect and enhance our unseen and vital underwater world. The list is long and a reflection of just some of his interests.

I encourage you to take a walk through his CV of affiliations and marvel at the breadth of them, each doing their part to make our world a better place and to understand that he is not just a name on a piece of paper, but that he commits of himself to them all and cares deeply for each of them.

He takes undoubted pride in his military affiliations too. Not only do I think that he wears a uniform extremely well, he takes an enormous interest in their vital work and loves nothing better than to go offline and spend happy hours talking one-to-one with those who do so much to serve our country.

He has been my guide and shown me the way over the years. He has given me much help and advice (not always taken I admit), and his knowledge and instincts that have been honed over decades of service are invaluable - so we share speech notes (not this one, sorry darling!), chat through issues our patronages may be tackling, and together I think we make quite a good team.

Like an iceberg, what is seen above the water or in public is only a small proportion of what goes on behind the scenes. What is never seen or can ever be quantified is the effort spent on ensuring good governance for his patronages, encouraging people to support worthwhile causes, chairing committees, meeting chief executives and think tanks, writing papers, speeches, forewords, introductions, the list goes on.

But whatever he is doing he gives 150% of himself, and if all else fails he gives any energy he has left out to our exhausted dogs or laying waste to the garden. Like my father-in-law, my husband never seeks compliments for himself. So when acknowledgment has come his way it has always been a total surprise to him, which is why I am grateful for this chance to, for once, be able to publicly celebrate and compliment him.

He was so happy and humbled when Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth made him a Knight of The Garter in 2006 and was equally delighted and moved the day His Majesty The King – who we are both incredibly proud to support – made him Duke of Edinburgh. Both he deserves in equal measure and I am so proud of the man he is.

He is the best of fathers, the most loving of husbands and still is my best friend.

So here's to you my darling Edward and may I along with all your family and so many friends and many others wish you the Happiest of Birthdays!

[alphajocklover]

I love your stuff bro! Do you think you could help me out? I’m a younger small guy but I’m trying to become a bodybuilder jock. Is there anything you can do to help me grow huge like that? 💪💪

Hm… I’ll admit, I don’t normally do that kind of thing. So far my job has been detailing the stories I find of nerds getting turned into jocks, usually unwillingly or accidentally, by various methods. I warn people of them so that they can avoid them (or seek them out). I’m more of a reporter than anything. I’ve never transformed anyone myself.

But… I have picked up a few methods during my travels. It’s hard not to with all I’ve learned. Now let’s see what I have on hand.

First is a jar filled with the sweat of an Alpha. When I say Alpha I mean Alpha with a capital A. The ones from my earlier story, that can change people with their sheer dominance. Drinking their sweat can give someone their powers, for a short time. But there are some… side effects. Normal people aren’t meant to have Alpha powers, even if the powers are only temporary. Maybe another transformation method will do.

Next is a piece of the Reality Stone. Yes, that reality stone, the one that changed Spider-man into a cocky jock. I had a lot of fun getting it out from between those juicy pecs of his. I didn’t hurt him if that’s what you're worried about. I wasn’t even able to get it entirely out of him so he kept some of those reality altering powers of his. But the fragment I got is enough to make some changes. The only problem is the reality stone is… very powerful. I mean you’ve read the comics right, or at least seen the movies? Even the bit of it I have is powerful enough to be dangerous, so you could accidentally do something very bad with a spare thought. So maybe that’s not the best. I hear Big Pete Parker is having fun with his part though.

How about this smartphone? It has a version of InstaJock downloaded on it. You’re probably wondering how I got one without getting transformed myself, but that’s a whole other story. Use the app and you’ll be a jock. Instantly. Of course if you do that I’ll have to find another phone with the app on it, which would be a pain. How about instead…

Ah. Now this is perfect. The energy of a supernova. A very specific supernova actually. You may recognize it from some of my first stories. Usually the supernova jockifys whoever wishes on it by granting their wish, but it’s less mystical than you might think. I’m not sure how it works, but the star doesn't change reality with magic. The energy from the star is what makes the change. So, with a slightly adjusted solar panel, I was able to make this. It looks like a regular battery, but if you speak your (muscle growth related) wish into it, it will come true. I think this one will work perfectly. No side effects, no danger, and you can customize.

So go ahead, say your wish. I’m sure you’ll-

-whoa. That worked quicker than I thought. You look amazing. Bouncy pecs, killer abs, a good amount of manly hair and stubble. I think you’re even a bit older too. You’re a total bodybuilder jock, through and through. So go, enjoy it!

And make sure to tell your friends. This might have been the first transformation I personally oversaw, but I don’t think it’ll be my last.

[captain-mj]

Changling!Ghost attempting to court Selkie!Soap before ditching google and asking Soap's mom.

Hell yeah, love it! I also have the next part of this story already planned and ready to go so hope you guys are enjoying it

Ghost checked the time. Currently 4 am. The screen he was on now was an article of Selkies in Scottish folklore.

After reading about how selkies were sexually dominated by those that stole their coats for the dozenth time, he gave up. Every article held pretty much the same thing. An explanation of how men would force the female selkies to be their brides through their coat or how male selkies would have human families they’d see for a while before leaving. Several stated that once a selkie went to sea, they wouldn’t be seen for seven years and he needed to make sure that wasn’t true because he thought he’d go mad if Soap disappeared from him. 

Ghost set his head down. He wished he could sleep, but alas, it was evading him tonight. It’s why he decided to get some research done. Originally, it was to help him court Soap, but he had gotten a bit lost in the stories. 

There were clear distinctions he could make out. Everything before a certain painted selkies as malevolent or benevolent, some even implying there evil. Then the weird sexual stuff. Then when the catholics came and they could be healed by baptism. Considering Soap was very much still here, that wasn’t true. 

There was nothing on courting. Nothing. Just take their coat and force them. He didn't want that.

He checked the time and did the math. Because of the timezone difference it would be 8 where Soap's mom lived.

Ghost called her before he could second guess himself.

"Hello?" She sounded so soft spoken. Her accent just as thick as Soap's though.

"Hi. This is... Ghost? Soap may have called me Simon."

"Oh. I was waiting for your call. I have to say, I appreciate how safe you keep my son." Her voice grew to a whisper and it was clear she was moving around.

"Yes, of course. I'd do anything for him." He had been honest with Soap about one thing and that's that he really did want her to like him.

"Good. I will admit, I was worried when he said he planned to not tell you. Selkies are sensitive, especially my son." There was a threat right under the surface. "So why are you calling?"

"I want to know how to court him. Properly."

"..."

Ghost stared at the wall ahead of him and shoved himself through one of the most excruciating sentences of his life. "I've been looking into it, but I'm not good at human romance, let alone this. I want... Soap to be my husband and I want to be a good husband back."

"..."

Ghost gritted his teeth and bore the silence for a few minutes before finally getting an answer.

"Did you feel this way before seeing his coat?"

"I've felt this way a while, ma'am."

He swore for a moment he heard her sniffle. "Good. Good. I'll help you, okay? First, please disregard anything you've seen online."

"Already did. They mostly just suggest taking his coat or chasing him."

"Chasing comes later, doing that so early on is seen as tacky and too forward." She explained while Ghost felt a blush creep up on his face. "Right now, you need to prove yourself to be a good mate. Little difficult considering your jobs, but prove you're useful. If you were a selkie, I'd suggest hunting bu-"

"I hunt." Ghost interrupted. "Mostly deer. Would that... work?"

"Excellent. Yes. Bring him food and shiny objects. Also, wear your arms bare more."

"Why?" That didn't make much sense.

"Because Soap likes your tattoos. And your arms. I love my son very much, but I didn't need to know your measurements or how much you can lift. Congrats on getting to 275 on bench presses by the way. According to Soap, that's very impressive."

Ghost had turned bright red under his mask. "Thank you."

She laughed softly before humming. "Can you do something for me and not ask why?"

"Sure."

"Say you're doing this to control him."

Ghost paused and went to ask why before stopping. "I'm doing this to control Soap."

"Thank you. Good luck." She hung up on him.

He decided to brush it off, sure she asked for a good reason. 

So Ghost took her advice and bought him a handful of pens that glittered. Soap held them to his chest and blushed. “Thank you.”

Ghost nodded, staring at him. The next time he went to eat, he noticed Soap had given him some extra food. He immediately looked for him, seeing him talk to Gaz. Something warm spread through his chest before he fled to his room to eat. 

Soap visited him after a while and sat with him, talking casually. 

“You want to come with me on our next leave?” Ghost asked suddenly. “I have a cabin in Canada I go to occasionally.” 

Soap stared at him for a minute, clearly thinking. “I’m sorry, ask me that again.” 

“I have a cabin in Canada. It’s only an hour by foot from a coast too.” He looked at Soap who was still processing. 

“I thought you had a flat in Manchester?”

“Yeah, I do. But I have a cabin I hunt at. It’s pretty nice.”

“And you’re inviting me. To stay there. For a week. Alone. In the woods.” Soap leaned forward as he talked.

“Yes. You and me.” Ghost nodded. 

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll go.” Soap said softly.

-

“How much further?” Soap groaned at him. They had gotten off the plane maybe thirty minutes ago. The cab had driven them as far as the road went and now they had been trekking for maybe ten minutes.

“Stop being a baby.”

Soap groaned more. “Do we have to do this every time we need anything?”

“Yep.”

“I’m regretting this already. I think my feet are going to fall off.”

“We’ve walked way more than this for a mission!” Ghost didn’t understand, turning to look at him. There was a lot of snow... And he didn’t really prepare Soap as well as he could’ve.. 

He noticed that Soap’s face was completely red from the cold. He assumed he’d be immune to the cold, but he supposed without his coat, he was just human. 

Ghost moved closer. “Sorry.”

Soap blinked and stared up at him. His eyes were so big. Ghost really, really like them. 

He took off his mask and grabbed Soap’s face, very gently holding. If hypothermia had set in, rubbing would cause the ice crystals in his skin to tear. Once he thought Soap was a little more warmed up, he moved closer, gently rubbing now to make sure there was plenty of blood flow. Soap was still really red though which was concerning. 

Soap stared at him, a lot more aware of their proximity than Ghost. “Simon?” His breath made clouds but Ghost’s didn’t. It was an odd thing to notice, but they both did. 

Ghost slipped his ski mask over Soap head, tucking in carefully. “There. I don’t really get cold. I’ll carry your bag.” He took it from him and started trekking again. Soap grabbed his arm and followed. Maybe he leaned in a bit too much, making it hard for Ghost to walk, but Ghost wasn’t going to say anything. 

Finally they got there and Soap collapsed on the couch. Ghost turned the heat on and sat with him. He took off both their gloves and did the process he remembered for warming someone up. Start with the extremities. Ghost hummed softly. 

Soap pulled off the mask and tossed it on the table. “You gave me your mask.”

“Yeah, I was worried. Your face was super red.” He continued rubbing Soap’s hands until they felt warm. Ghost hummed. “I’m not rubbing your feet. You can just lose some toes.” 

Soap laughed. “Alright. Understood.” He moved a little closer. “This place is... To be honest, I was expecting a shack.” 

It really was a nice place. Two stories, big lofty rooms and mostly wood from the looks of it. “I’m a little insulted. But I like space. Plus no one can be hiding anywhere.” 

Soap laughed. “Paranoid as always, huh, Lt?” 

Ghost shrugged. “There’s a spare room. I know we’re married and all but...”

“I’ll be staying in the spare room for now.” Soap said quickly, blushing as he looked away.

Ghost nodded and showed him where it was. “Before you ask, there is a hot water heater and it lasts for hours. Unlike the one on base.”

“You’re making me a very happy man, Simon Riley.” Johnny smiled at him. 

Simon tried not to vibrate out of his skin. “I’m going to bring you so many deer.”

“What?”

[lovinglylibelle]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

-navigation || masterlist-

pairing: fushiguro megumi x reader

genre: fluff

description: Megumi has always been curious about love, having never experienced it himself. So what happens when he meets someone from his past that might just be the key to changing all that.

requests: open

a/n: this is has been on my mind for a while and i tried sooo many times to write this, but it somehow wasn't giving the vibe i wanted it to give. However, writing it this time was better and i like how it turned out, may have gotten carried away down there but eh (is it obvious that i am absolutely enamored by Megs?) If you like it, please press that cute little heart in the bottom right corner and that reblog button just next to it. If you want more such fics, you can also drop a follow and i promise not to disappoint. Have a happy day ahead, keep yourself hydrated and well fed. Thank you

"Ya Itadori, do you think it will rain?" Kugisaki asked, shielding her eyes as she looked up at the sky. It was the beginning of Japan's rainy season and it seemed like Tokyo was about to welcome it too.

It was getting darker by the second as more and more clouds gathered, blocking out the rays of the sun and from the looks of it, the sky was ready to let down the first rain.

"It's definitely going to rain," Itadori replied. According to the duo, he had some sort of sensor in him that allowed him to predict the weather... keeping aside the fact that it was already visible.

Megumi sighed as he watched the two sorcerers, now trying to climb the lamp post in order to get a clearer view, wondering how he managed to get himself surrounded by them. Not that he minded it. He had gotten used to it.

The three were standing outside a movie theatre, waiting for the movie to screen. Kugisaki and Itadori had insisted upon watching the latest romance movie, the same old story about love.

Fushiguro Megumi didn't know a thing about love and it really wasn't a surprise. To him it was just a myth, a fool's errand that the world seemed to chase for reasons unbeknownst to him.

He didn't get it, truly, the concept of it foreign to him but he wasn't the one to blame for it. He didn't exactly have the chance to experience it: his parents abandoned him, his sister was in a magic coma, and his 'relatives' wanted to exploit him... the only thing close to love, affection, and warmth he had ever known, not that he would ever admit it to him or anyone, was the chaotic white haired man child known as Gojo Satoru, and the two idiots who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to be the bane of his existence. However, that was all platonic anyway.

Romantic love was something he had only read about in the various novels and mangas: that were neatly stacked in his dorm, or watched in movies like these, and yet they weren't enough to make him believe in the notion.

It felt fictional to him, a love that transcends all barriers, a love that makes one do irrational things, a love that is unconditional... the idea was too far fetched. Everybody wanted something in the world, he knew that, he experienced that on an everyday basis. And everybody was selfish when it came down to it, so something as selfless as love was odd for him, odder than the existence of curses and magic.

However, he did wonder what it felt like, to be in love and to feel that feeling that all these things portrayed. Will he ever feel that? it was a question that made him ponder sometimes. He wouldn't mind it if he did and wouldn't mind it if he didn't either.

This reverie of his might have been neverending if it wasn't for the loud shout that Kugisaki had let out. "Fushiguro, it's open!"

He nodded, making his way towards them but stopping short after feeling a strong and familiar cursed energy.

"Huh?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings. A nostalgic emotion making its way to his heart. What was it-

thud, he felt someone bump into him, making him stumble slightly before he caught himself.

Looking up, he noticed the culprit and was ready to give them a terrible look but as soon as his eyes met yours, his entire world seemed to have slowed down to a halt.

There you were turning around to face him as your hair cascaded around you, framing you delicately like the buds do the petals. Your eyes were wide with evident shock that was etched onto your face oh so sweetly. Your lips parting slightly as it finally began to rain... the first of its season.

The air around you seemed to shimmer and Megumi could have sworn that he had never seen anybody look as beautiful as you did in that moment.

"Oh my god, shit, i am so sorry." you said hurriedly, a shocked expression on your face. You kept a hand above your eyes to be able to see.

Megumi couldn't even breathe much less talk or comprehend whatever you were saying as he noticed the feeling from earlier creeping in again. He squinted at you, running a hand through his hair that was now soaked and sticking to his forehead.

As he took in your features, the feeling started to bloom into something more, recognition.

You had the same aura around you, as you did all those years ago, of comfort and safety that once was Megumi's only solace. Your clumsiness was intact too, barely taking a few steps before crashing into things as he recalled. Your hair was longer though and somehow it looked even more perfect than what he had remembered... And your eyes, oh your eyes, they were the dead give away.

They had that same glint in them, the same warmth and insatiable curiosity that always left him in awe. Even now they seemed to hold the entire universe in them and sparkle like a million stars resided in them.

"Y/n..?" he whispered, loud enough for you to hear over the rain and soft enough to not break the moment.

"What? How do you know my nam-" you replied, confused beyond your belief when a flicker of understanding crossed your mind and you lit up with the same feeling of recognition.

"Meg- Fushiguro? No way..." you chuckled incredelously, disbelief on your face.

"Hello to you too, Y/n" he said, a smile on his face. It was genuine, the smile, just like it used to be all those years ago when you two spent time together.

To Kugisaki and Itadori who were watching it all unfold from afar, it was truly a rare sight; to see the alleged sea urchin, make that face and that too in a serious way.

"It's been so long Fushiguro, you've not changed a bit." you said, tucking your hair behind your ear as you smiled back at him. The more Megumi observed you, the more aware he became of his surroundings. He felt his cheeks growing warm despite the cold rain that was falling relentlessly around him.

"well my teeth grew back," he joked, earning a soft laugh from you and a gasp of disbelief from the other two, who exchanged a look. At the sound of your laugh, Megumi felt his heartbeat pick up, he couldn't comprehend what was happening to him. It was the first time ever that he had felt all those things, was it the weather? was it the rain? was he getting sick? what was happening to him? was he okay?

"that they did... makes you less cute though." you commented, making him nod his head and his friends face-palm themselves.

If they had been standing closer to you, Kugisaki would have smacked the oblivious guy's head right in that instance but due to the distance she couldn't.

"So you are back?" Fushiguro asked as the two of you started walking, the rain almost forgotten now.

"Yeah, Gojo Sensei had insisted on it and well i did miss everything here, especially you." you said, a hopeful look in your eyes as they met his.

I missed you too, he had wanted to say but decided against it.

"So what brings you here?" he said instead, his hands in his pockets.

He was looking down on the street, various puddles forming due to the water. He stepped in one, watching it splash against his feet.

"Believe it or not, it's a mission. There is a cursed spirit right around the corner there, caused a few suicides over the week." you said pointing at the alley behind the theatre.

"Speaking of, i can feel it manifesting again." you added, stopping in your tracks.

"They already got you going huh? You should go and exorcise it, we can talk later." he said, stopping to face you. He didnt want to stop talking just yet but he knew that the exorcism was more important.

"Alright, see you back at the dorms?"

He nodded in reply,

"It really is nice to see you again Fushiguro, i'll see you later." you said, taking off towards the alley with your hands clasped behind your back.

Fushiguro watched you walk away and felt himself coming to his senses again, he could now feel every raindrop on himself that had seemingly disappeared when he was talking to you. He realised that he was soaked, his hair sticking to his face, his hands cold and clammy and yet he didn't mind it at all,

He was so lost in watching you walk away that he didn't realise when Kugisaki and Itadori had joined him.

"So... who was that?" she said, holding the umbrella that somehow magically appeared in her hand. Her eyes narrowing at Megumi.

"A friend,"

"Just, a friend?"

"Yeah, just a friend."

"Sureeee, you made us miss half the movie though."

"But it's just been ten minutes Kugisaki-" Itadori interrupted,

"Yeah yeah i know, i am exaggerating. Come on now and quit staring, you look like a creep for fuck's sake." she called out, making her way towards the entrance of the theatre.

"Shut up." Megumi replied, shaking his head but looking away too.

He was elated to see you again and was even looking forward to meeting you back at the school and introducing you to his new friends.

"For the record, I don't believe that she was just a friend." Kugisaki added as she sat on her seat inside the theatre. Megumi who was now dry, thanks to his shikigami, sat down next to her with a sigh.

He avoided her gaze as he replied, "I don't care."

He was glad that the cinema was dark enough to hide his face when he said that because despite everything, a small smile had found its way on his lips which he really did not want Kugisaki or Itadori to see or they wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

His eyes focused on the movie in front of him, a romance movie, about love and somewhere in his heart and beyond his consciousness, he knew that he had found the answer to most of the questions he had as he thought back to the encounter he just had with you.

He really was looking forward to seeing you again.

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter five

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: life is hectic atm but i'm so glad to finally get this out! i swear i'm gonna get around to replying to all of your lovely comments on chapter four. i really appreciate your love and support for this story and i'm forever thanking you, even if i don't get around to replying as quick as i want! so not a lot of marcus and reader in this chapter, like... at all lmao, but the storyline is now picking up and we can fasten our seatbelts for the turbulent ride ahead. enjoy, angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: just over 4.5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, the bestest golden retriever himbo bff, talk of crime and undercover operations, mentions of heartache, mentions of jail/being incarcerated, talk of murder/bodies, smutty flashback (18+ only), Patrick Jane, super brief blink-and-you-miss-it Lisbon appearance (poor marcus bb is not doing good rn lmao SUFFER BITCH), and the usual warning: bitter saltiness that only one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

He’s hovering.

At first, it’s almost easy to ignore—you think he’s just watching you paint with a small sense of curiosity and would move away once boredom finds him, but you’ve never been one for people looming over your shoulder for an extended period of time, and so the irritation quickly starts to seep in.

The hand holding the paintbrush drops, and you look expectantly at him while knocking your headphones off of one ear, “Can I help you, agent?”

Jacob leans on the table next to you and tears into the homemade sub in his hands, chewing loudly as a small smearing of mayonnaise gathers at the corner of his lips.

He gives a nod, mumbling around the mouthful of food, “Just makin’ sure you eat.”

You blink in surprise, glancing at the window, “It’s lunchtime already?”

“A bit past,” Jacob replies, moving away now that he has your attention and sits himself on a chair at the table, “but I didn’t want to let you go late without eating. Gotta keep up your energy, Monet—don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“Thanks,” you murmur softly, organising your little workstation and rolling your aching shoulders.

The break is surprisingly welcome. You didn’t even realise how long you’d been lost in your work until you stopped, and now the throb in your fingers is all you can focus on. You clench and unclench your hand as you walk to your bag and ready some lunch, careful of the hot food you retrieve from the microwave.

Jacob doesn’t look at you as you seat yourself opposite him, too engrossed in studying the painting hanging on the easel.

“You’re good at this,” Jacob notes, eyeing the almost completed piece waiting to be taken wherever by Marcus’ team, “how’d you get into this stuff? Art school?”

Appetite now gone, you shift in your seat, suddenly far too interested in pushing the rice into small mountains in your glass dish.

Breathe.

He doesn’t know.

“I uh… I actually did it for a living.”

“Oh? Nice.”

There’s no malice in his tone, no mistrust, just pure interest.

He doesn’t glare at you, or pull a face of suspicion. It doesn’t even occur to him that it may have all been under the table and illegal. You feel a little guilty, almost as if you’d been leading him to believe you weren’t a previously convicted criminal. It makes you want to own it, to just speak your truth and let him make his own judgement of your actions.

Maybe it would be best to do so, so he would know where he stands and how he should view you. You’re not a good person, and maybe he deserves to know that. He does deserve to know that. 

“It was… it wasn’t legal. That’s how I got caught up in Marcus’ radar,” you admit quietly, briefly letting your eyes meet his and watching the flicker of surprise flash across his features before dropping your gaze again, afraid to watch his warmth and friendliness disappear. 

“Oh.” 

Nothing is said for a few minutes.

You swear you can feel the seconds trickling by, your nerves picking up and heightening with every silent tick. The small bit of the lunch you’d packed last night and eaten starts to churn uncomfortably in your stomach, swirling with your growing anxiety and threatening to bubble up your throat.

You can’t look at him.

“How’d you get caught?”

“It was a whole thing. Apparently the FBI had been after them—us—for a while… I knew it was big, I wasn’t stupid, but I guess I just tried to ignore the other side of it all. The money was good, and it felt nice. Marcus went undercover—guess they wanted someone on the inside, and I just happened to fall in the trap.”

And fall into the trap you did. You fell good. One look into those warm brown eyes and your walls had crumbled. You still don’t understand how it all happened. If only you could go back and scream at your more naive self, tell her to just walk away and never look back.

God, had you truly been that lonely? To open up so quickly, so easily, with a complete stranger? Would things have played out differently if you had just been stronger and ignored the obvious attraction and turned a cheek to his advances? Would he have just moved on to somebody else for the sake of the case?

It makes you angry, and you don’t have a clue as to why. Maybe it’s because somewhere deep within you, beneath the bitterness and the hurt, you wanted to believe he actually did want you, and not just use you as a means to finish the investigation. You wanted to believe that a part of it, even just a slither of it, was real.

Stupid.

Of course it wasn’t real. None of it was.

Jacob nods in understanding, “So that’s why you hate Pike?”

Hate?

Is that what you feel for him?

The angry side of you says yes. Yes, you hate him and everything he fucking stands for, and that you’d feel this way forever… but it doesn’t sit right, feel right. Maybe you don’t. Maybe hate isn’t what it is. Resentment? Disappointment, perhaps? 

“I don’t hate him,” you sigh quietly, giving up on lunch and pushing it away from you, “not… not really. I mean, I did. For months I wished all sorts of horrible shit to happen to him, but I… I don’t know. I guess I just accepted it for what it was after a while. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like him—at all—but I just want to forget it all happened and move on. I want my fresh start, you know? It’s hard seeing him, being around him again, after all the heartbreak.”

“Wait,” Jacob frowns, holding a hand out to stop you from speaking any more, “when you say you ‘fell into the trap’, does that… were you guys a thing? While he was undercover? Was it serious?”

“It was to me,” you admit with a murmur, “even had me picking out a damn wedding dress.”

The laugh that you force from your lips is strained and void of any true humour.

If anything, it’s an attempt to steer the direction of the conversation from diving any deeper into the overwhelming feelings you had for a man that had never existed. It’s humiliating to even think about. Maybe if you laugh about it, the sting of it all won’t hurt as much.

“Oh well,” you breathe, straightening in your seat and twisting your lips to resemble a faint smile, “it’s all in the past. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Jacob watches you play with your food with a look you can’t quite identify. You don’t want to risk looking at him too much, afraid that he’ll see the clear pain swirling in your eyes. The damage has probably already been done. He’s seen it all, and probably more. He’s a Federal Agent—their job relies on reading people on a daily basis. 

“Hey,” he mutters, giving you a small comforting smile when you eventually pull your gaze away from the table to look at him, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt. It must’ve been really tough, and I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Your features twist into a frown, “Who said I was alone through it?”

He watches you knowingly for a moment, his brows raising ever so slightly as his small smile turns a little sadder, sympathetic. He’s right, and he knows it. You had been alone. It’d been the most alone you’d ever felt, and you’ll spend the rest of your life hoping to never feel that way again. 

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you give a small shrug and drop your fork with a quiet clatter, “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. Yeah, you’ve made some pretty shit decisions in the past—I’m not debating that, but I like to think of myself as a good judge of character. You’re not a bad person, not like the ones we’re used to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone. You watch him for a few minutes, eyes darting between his bright green ones and searching for anything that gives you a small feeling of doubt that his words are nothing but a lie.

You find nothing.

A true smile starts to grow along your lips and you dip your head, unable to keep meeting his genuine gaze without feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

 “Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome, Kahlo.”

It’s quiet, and you feel like you can bear the sight of food again.

Your shoulders feel lighter, the ache in your chest has dissipated. It’s freeing. You hadn’t yet been able to speak on what had happened without someone focusing on the crime part.

The inmates you had bunked with, the counsellors in jail, the people hiring you once you got out… they all had that pre-judgement of you. The title of criminal followed you throughout every interaction, but not here, not with him.

You pick up your fork and start picking at your food, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. The slice of Jacob’s sudden huff cuts through the air, and he throws his almost eaten sub onto the table before crossing his arms in obvious irritation.

“God, what a fuckin’ dick.”

—

Heat—it’s everywhere.

It sticks to your skin, it swells in the pit of your stomach, it builds and builds over your flesh with every deep roll of his body over yours. It should be too much, too overwhelming, but your nails still dig into the soft skin of his back in a silent cry for more.

Just when you think he can’t possibly get any closer, he does. He pushes—crushes—you into the mattress, hands cradling the back of your head in an effort to keep you as close as possible. So close, so fucking close, you’re practically breathing in the other, with no room left for oxygen between you and it’s absolute bliss.

He’s breathless against the skin of your throat, nothing but soft whimpers and the hush of sharp exhales filling your ears. Lips press wherever they can reach, trailing paths of fire along your cheeks and the length of your neck until you squirm from the sensation, fighting both the urge to hide from his tender touch and stretch out for more. 

“A-Alex,” you breathe, face turning enough to trace the tip of your nose along the shell of his ear.

He exhales sharply, hips faltering ever so slightly. His face briefly falls away from breathing in your skin, dipping his head and hiding his features. Despite the unexpected jolt in his rhythm, he still moves, still rolls his hips in that way he’s fucking mastered, ensuring every upwards roll of his hips has that delicious bit of friction along your clit.

It’s maddening.

It’s perfection.

The ecstasy rolling through your body hits an all time high, and your thighs tighten around his hips, coaxing him to brush harder, push deeper into the wet heat of your pussy until you start to feel that sweet, sweet edge start to creep along the edge of your nerves.

More, more, more—

“Ale–”

He suddenly rears forward, moulding his lips to yours and stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s always the same. The kiss is urgent, all teeth and tongue and it’s impossible to speak another word. You struggle to keep up with his intensity, too busy focusing on that overwhelming high and the tightening that threatens to give at any second now. 

It’s good—it’s so fucking good, you swear you’re going crazy. He does that to you. Though you can’t say it, breathe it, his name is all you hear in your mind, its own soft echo a consistent companion to the sheer pleasure he drowns you in.

Alex, Alex, Alex.

—

It’s been a month.

A month in your new little workspace, a month of painting, a month of successfully avoiding him. Despite it being his investigation, he now keeps his distance from the makeshift art space he had given you. Maybe he finally got the message that you didn’t want to be around him, that the mere thought of even uttering a single word to him made you feel almost nauseous.

You haven’t seen him in weeks. 

When you finish a piece, he sends his agents. You know a few by name now, but don’t bother with small talk. They come, give you a friendly hello, take the finished, wrapped painting and leave—that’s it.

That’s all it is.

You don’t have to do anything else, and it’s wonderful. You spend your days painting, relishing in the familiar feel of a brush between your fingers and enjoying the legal money deposited into your account every week.

You get ahead with bills. You buy some new clothes. You feel refreshed, finding a certain needed peace from the sudden financial stability. You know it’s not going to last—Jacob doesn’t talk about the case a whole lot, but you know that the team has made some progress with it, so you put a little money aside for the day the FBI no longer needs you.

He becomes a fast friend, and if you were ever to find it within you to thank Marcus for anything in this world, it would be him. You surely would’ve gone batshit insane if you’d been holed up in that room by yourself day in and day out, probably worse if you had been locked up with Marcus every day.

But not Jacob.

Jacob keeps the air light.

He’s kind, funny, and a bit of an idiot, and you find yourself fondly laughing nearly every day at the little things he would do or say. You thoroughly enjoy his company, and love hearing about his time in school, training to be an agent and the few cases he’s worked on so far.

He asks you questions and seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and of you past, never once making you feel lesser than or lowly for your less than ideal life before this. 

“You made a decision, Matisse. Good or bad—own it.”

He keeps to himself whenever you find yourself focused on your work, and only steps in to remind you to take care of yourself. On the odd occasion, he’d join you, content to watch you work with a shine of interest.

You don’t like it, so you shove canvas paper and oil pastels at him to keep him from hovering any longer and it works. It becomes a little activity of sorts, a release for him whenever paperwork starts to push at his patience a little too much. 

“They should’ve hired you for this case,” you mumble teasingly around your lunch, grinning at the pride filling his features as he finishes his latest project—his own creation inspired by the Van Gogh you’re currently working on.

It’s pretty, full of bright colours and soft swirling patterns. The Future, he had called it, and apparently—it was all for you.

You need something colourful, Da Vinci, something happy. You’re too sad. 

The FBI doesn’t deserve him.

“Hey, I’m proud of this,” he retorts sharply, pointing a finger smudged with colour at you but his tone doesn’t match the bright amusement in his eyes, “belongs in a damn museum. It’s an original Wilson—people will flock to see it. You just wait, Michaelangelo, this will bring a lot of money down the track, mark my words.”

Your chuckle is cut off by the insistent buzz in his pocket, and he stands immediately, answering the call with a swift Wilson and stepping away from the table with his phone pressed to his ear.

It’s Marcus... you know just by the way he positions himself, ensuring to keep a bit of distance and turning away so you don't have to potentially hear his voice from the other end. You quickly lose interest in the conversation, focusing back on the open book you’ve been trying—and failing—to get into the last few days.

The interest in the conversation was lost, until you hear it.

“Understood, sir. We’ll leave now.”

Immediately looking up in question, your brows start to furrow as Jacob wraps up the phone call and strides back to the table quietly. Anxiety begins to build in the pit of your stomach at the sudden serious set of his features, unused to seeing the usually bright and bubbly face now so stoic. It’s Agent Wilson, not Jacob. 

“We’re leaving?” you ask in confusion, “but I haven’t even done—”

The frown between his thick brows deepens, and he barely looks at you while he shrugs his navy blue suit jacket on, leaving faint smudges of orange and pink on the lapels.

“Leave it, we need to get to the office.”

The anxiety immediately gives way to dread.

The office? Where Marcus and his team are? Why?

You want to ask if you can stay behind—straight up refuse to go anywhere near that damn building—but the firm set of Jacob’s lips lets you know it’s non-negotiable.

He helps you with your bag, a certain urgency to his movements, and then you’re descending the stairs with him hot on your tail. He ushers you into the car, throwing a wary glance each way down the street before moving around the vehicle and sliding into his seat.

You swear you can feel your heart beating in your throat. He’s clearly in a rush, but you’re at a loss as to why. Has something happened? Is there danger? Are you in danger?

With your mind beginning to hurl possibilities at you, you start to feel more and more nauseous with every swift swerve through traffic Jacob makes.

“Is everything okay?” You ask carefully, fingers fiddling with the straps of your bag as you try to calm the rage of your heart. 

He briefly looks away from the traffic and gives you a small reassuring smile, “Of course. There’s just been a big development and I’m needed back at the office for a debriefing, sorry for the rushing.”

“Oh,” you breathe in relief, “okay, I understand. Well, you can drop me home if that’s easier for you.”

“It’s an urgent thing and uh… Pike would like you at the office.”

Your lips press shut and an immediate frown overcomes your expression.

Of course.

If there had been developments in the case, why did you need to be there? It’s not like you're an agent with unlimited access to the available information. Your own folder Marcus had given you was severely lacking any true details of the case beyond what you needed to know, and it’s not like you were involved in anything anymore, so you had very little to contribute further than your creative talents.

You keep quiet for the rest of the quick trip, taking the hint that now is not the time for small talk. The need to chat is nonexistent to you right now anyway, even if Jacob happened to be in a perkier mood. The mere thought of seeing, and talking to, Marcus again does nothing to ease the dread churning in the pit of your gut. 

The building is not a welcome sight, yet you hurry to follow Jacob from the brightly lit parking lot and into the home of the FBI. He stays beside you the whole way, through the wide crowded corridors and during the silence of the elevator, giving you one final reassuring smile before he pushes open the door to the Art Crime Department.

It’s busy. 

Marcus doesn’t suddenly appear from nowhere and bombard you both at the entrance. You can take a deep breath. The shrill ringing of phones fill the space, and the shuffle of agents near running about with various files and pieces of paper takes you a little off guard.

There’s an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. You can’t quite put your finger on why it unsettles you so.

You follow Jacob further into the chaos, ensuring to keep out of the way and keeping an eye out for the one man you seem to now be bracing for, steeling your nerves into something harder, something unbreakable. You don’t need to wait long—there he is.

He looks tired.

Marcus appears from a room, presumably his own personal office, raking a hand through his mussed hair and saying a few brief words to a coworker before his eyes zero in on Jacob. He points to the conference room where you’d once sat at the beginning of this, already heading that way with another agent, and Jacob gives a short nod in response.

You try to blend into the background behind Jacob so Marcus doesn’t take much notice of you, but it’s not even a moment later and his eyes are suddenly meeting yours. The feeling of his attention is instant, and the increase of your heart is familiar by now.

Despite the distance between you, you feel how they roam over your face, seemingly searching your expression, but it’s not long until they fall away and you’re left to exhale quietly, now free from his gaze. 

He disappears into the conference room, and you swallow down the thick feeling of anxiety building in the back of your throat. He doesn’t seem eager, or interested, in talking to you straight away, and you’re relieved by that—you could mentally and emotionally prepare yourself a little more.

“My desk is over there if you want to sit down,” Jacob offers, turning and walking backwards in order to point you in the right direction, “and I’ve got snacks in the bottom drawer.”

Rolling your eyes, you give a strained huff of amusement and start walking towards it, “Of course you do.”

Your shoulder catches the frame of someone else and you quickly take a step back, wide eyes locking with a pair of vaguely amused blue ones.

He’s dressed sharply, much different to the basic suits the agents around him wear, in a well kept grey toned three piece suit with the simple white collar of his shirt popped open at the base of his throat. His soft blond curls are styled neatly back, and the gentle scent of tea wafts from the cup in his hold.

He’s pretty, by society’s standards, but his eyes are sharp, as if they can see right into the very centre of you.

You don���t like it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumble, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You don’t linger to hear what the agent has to say. You hurry into Jacob’s desk space and throw your bag under it before taking a seat in the simple desk chair, the backrest squeaking as you rest into it.

His desk is as you expected it to look—messy, but organised in his own little chaotic way. The edges of his computer screen are littered with sticky notes of reminders, his ballpoint pens are all missing their lids, he has a bobble head character of a sports player next to his keyboard and a crumpled paper plane lies hidden beneath a thick notebook.

It’s undoubtedly Jacob, end to end.

The wide variety of sweets and chips resting on old files doesn’t surprise you at all when you tug at the stiff drawer, and you immediately zero in on the ones he’s been sharing with you over the past few weeks.

“Jane, stay out of trouble,” a brunette orders sharply as she passes, briefly catching your attention and the man you had previously bumped into comes to a stop just beside you.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he replies dryly with the growings of a smirk, sipping quietly at the tea in his hands and watching the last few agents file into the conference room before the door closes.

Do people still use saucers? He does. He half turns towards you and eyes you curiously as you sway absent-mindedly in Jacob’s desk chair, breaking into the packet of sour candies.

“You’re not an agent.”

You blink up at him and give a small, polite smile, “No, I’m not.”

He makes a low noise of thought to himself and sits on the edge of the desk opposite to Jacob’s, watching you over the rim of the plain white cup he lifts to his lips.

You shift a little under his study, busying yourself with picking a lemon flavoured candy out from the packet and looking over the various little notes decorating the dated computer screen.

Meeting @ 10 Tues. Picasso retrieval daily @ 8. Get bread. Call ma before she has a damn heart attack—

“How long have you been an artist?”

Eyes rolling back to the stranger, you give a slightly confused, “What? How do you know I’m an artist?”

“You have paint on your fingers,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the room.

Rubbing your fingers together, you feel the tell tale crack of dried paint over your skin and glance down at it in vague interest. He’s got a really good set of eyes. You shift a little in the seat and pinch the ends of your sleeves before pulling them down further over your hands to hide them from him.

“A few years,” you reply vaguely, “you’re rather observant, Agent Jane.”

It comes across more as an accusation rather than a general statement, and it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He grins, flashing a nice set of pearly white teeth. 

“Patrick,” he supplies, “and I’m a consultant.”

“Didn’t even know that was a thing,” you mutter plainly, not liking the way you feel like a fucking open book with this stranger, “well, shouldn’t you be in there, then?”

You nod towards the closed door of the conference room and Patrick makes a low noise of dismissal, a slight scrunch curling his nose.

“I already know everything about the murders—Lisbon can handle it.”

The word cuts through the air and chills you right to the bone. 

“Murders? What murders?”

Patrick looks at you, shrugging lightly.

“That’s why we’re here. The fancy little tracker led this bunch down to the meeting point in California, but we found the bodies first. Deal gone wrong, I’m guessing. The buyer probably found the painting to be a fake, and got rid of the delivery men because of it. Very messy.”

Your stomach turns.

The painting? Your painting? 

“What was wrong with the piece?” You ask quietly, voice suddenly strained.

“Not sure,” Patrick murmurs, taking an apparent interest in the way you’re reacting to his information and studying you from over his tea, “guess we’ll know soon enough.”

You swallow, a sting of sweat building along the back of your neck. They knew it was a replica? How? You must’ve done something different, there must’ve been something wrong with it. Otherwise how else would they know? They wouldn’t.

Have you made a mistake?

Is that why Marcus wanted you here? Are you in trouble? What would be the ramifications of your mistake? After all, it’s your fault. People had died because you didn’t focus hard enough on your work. The FBI have probably realised how useless you are if you can’t even convince some shady black market dealers that your pieces are real. 

You must’ve been distracted. You never made mistakes, and now you’ve made one that cost lives. How many? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it happened, and now you have to live with that knowledge.

People have died. People have died because of you. 

You fucked up. 

-

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

[kittyball23]

The Vesting (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Some years before Branch’s birth, Floyd gets officially inducted as a member of BroZone

A/N: Taking place before TBT

__________________________________________

The room was dark.

Floyd tried squinting, trying to adjust his eyes to make anything out, when all of a sudden, he was blinded by a bright light. He yelped and stepped back a little, the shine of the glowbug that had been lit startling him for just a second as it helped illuminate his surroundings. There, contrasted with the sharp light were his three older brothers standing across from him. John Dory was in the middle, holding the glowbug in his hands right under his face, as though he were holding a flashlight and about to tell a spooky story. Spruce was to his left and Clay was to his right. Floyd in the meantime stood there, uncertain of what was happening.

John Dory narrowed his eyes, and then suddenly began speaking in a deep, mysterious voice.

“We’ve gathered here today to undergo the most revered of ceremonies....”

Then, JD reached into his pocket and thrust a paper into Floyd’s hands. The magenta-haired Trolling, growing even more confused by the minute, gave a meek little “Huh?”

“Go on, read it!” John Dory urged.

Floyd looked down and skimmed through the words first, his brows furrowing. “Is this an oath?”

JD rolled his eyes. “No dude, a BROath,” he corrected.

“Which is pretty much like an oath,” Spruce clarified.

“Only ‘better’!” Clay added, making the word better with airquotes.

“Well it is,” JD said. He nudged Floyd. “Go ahead, dude, read it!”

Floyd shrugged. He may as well. He looked down at the page silently. He was only able to catch the first couple of sentences when the sound of a throat clearing made him stop. Floyd jerked his head up to find JD glaring down at him.

“Out loud.”

Floyd blushed. Whoops. After mumbling an apology, he cleared his throat and, as instructed, began to read the words on the page aloud. Or, as the title at the top was written, the ‘BroZone Credo.’

“’ 1) Family is numero uno. As fun as performing is, I promise to put bros before shows every time. 2) All bros are made equal, but we are not all the same. We have different colors, sizes, shapes and ages. I won’t judge my bro by his taste in music, but by his character. 3) A bro is not afraid to admit when he’s scared. When I am, I promise to confide in my bros and summon the Pop Power of all the brodacious superstars that came before us so that we can use all the love, all the smarts, and all the bravery we got to accomplish the ultimate Family Harmony. 4) All bros can make mistakes. I will admit when I’m wrong and work at it to make things right again. 5) Bros were born to sing. I promise to share my talents with others and not keep them all to myself. To earn my spot – ‘”

“Ooh, wait, wait, wait!” John Dory interrupted, waving his hands. “Stop there for a sec. You gotta raise your right hand now!”

“What?” Floyd shot a glance at Spruce and Clay. In return, they gave him a look that communicated Dude, we did this too. The magenta-haired Trolling shrugged and raised his right hand.

“Okay, good,” JD said. “Now you can keep reading.”

So Floyd did. “’To earn my spot within this band, I solemnly swear to uphold this oath – I mean, BROath – and honor it for the sake of my family.’”

“Forever?” JD asked him.

Floyd looked up from his paper and gave a small nod. “Forever.”

The BroZone leader smiled. “Good.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Spruce! Clay! Grab the item,” he commanded. The purple and yellow Trollings went off, and JD turned his attention to Floyd. “Floyd, arms up and eyes closed!”

By this point in the initiation, Floyd was still a little confused, but he’d learned to just go with it. He did as told (hoping he didn’t look too silly in his T-pose), and waited to see – or rather, hear – what was happening next. He heard some shuffling next to him, and then felt something being placed at his arms. Floyd began to open an eye, hoping to see what was going on, but he instantly shut it again at JD’s shout.

“Hey! No peeking!”

As the something was continued to be adjusted on his arms and then against his body, JD spoke.

“By the totally brodacious power invested in me – with an emphasis on the vest” – he paused to laugh at his own joke (one that Floyd was about to understand in just a few moments) – “I now pronounce you an official member of BroZone!!” He whooped and then clapped his hands. “Alright, now open ‘em up!”

Floyd blinked, and then looked down and gasped. A smile grew on his face as he beheld the elegant, magenta, polyester puffy jacket of a vest that was on him. It was pristine and brand new, fresh and perfectly form-fitting. It went with his hair, as each of his brothers' vests did, and he didn't need a mirror to know that it made him look, as John Dory would put it, totally brodacious! He turned this way and that, appreciating it no matter what angle he viewed it.

“Welcome to the band, little bro!” John Dory exclaimed. Spruce and Clay added in their own “Woo-hoo!”s and “You got it!”s to the chorus.

“Awww, well thanks you guys… thank you so much!” Floyd cooed, beginning to sniffle. The brothers already recognized the signs of oncoming tears, but didn’t badger the little guy about it. Classic Floyd always cried, but he had reason for his happy tears. This was a big moment! Another bro had just joined in on their special pact, and they were going to only continue to live up to their full potential. Before JD could help it, he thrust his hand out in front of him. Spruce recognized the motion and placed his hand on top of his, and then Clay on top of Spruce’s. Last but not least, Floyd still with tear-stained cheeks, placed his hand on Clay’s. They threw their hands up in the air together and chanted out.

“IT’S BRO-TIME!!”

Laughs and brotherly pats on the back followed… as well as an authoritative female voice from just the other room.

“No, it’s BEDtime,” the voice of their Grandma Rosiepuff called out, just before she appeared at the doorway of their room with her arms crossed. “Boys,” she continued, giving them a stern look. “Do you know how late it is?”

Groans came from the Trollings. “But Grandmaaa,” John Dory whined. “We were doing The Vesting!”

Grandma Rosiepuff snickered. She had seen JD do this special little ceremony of his for Spruce and then Clay when they were younger. JD pushed Floyd forward and beamed up at her. “See? Check out how he’s flexin’ the drip now! Pretty sweet, huh?”

Floyd looked up at their grandmother hopefully, his eyes shining. Grandma Rosiepuff smiled down at him. “It is ‘sweet,’ dear,” she said.

Floyd blushed while JD pumped his fists and Spruce and Clay high-fived.

“But do you know what else is ‘sweet’?” Grandma Rosiepuff continued. “Dreams.” She pointed a finger to the beds and the boys sighed, knowing that she was right. One by one, they slipped out of their vests and hung them at their bedposts (Floyd taking one more minute to admire his before he too did as his brothers had), and then they slipped into bed. Grandma Rosiepuff then made her rounds to each brother, helping to tuck them in. When she was finished, she turned off the glowbug and allowed it to flitter out the window.

“Good night,” she whispered to them.

And “G’night!” came the response of the four band members she was proud to call her grandsons.

[somethingvicked]

X-rated Education part 1

a Tom Grant (Make Up 2019) x FemReader story.

(warnings - smut, curse words)

Prologue part here

First lesson.

After they arrived at Tom’s trailer he felt himself being back on the edge, fidgeting with his hands.

”Do you... can I get you anything?” he stuttered out before Y/N took his hand and made them sit down.

”Easy, Tom. You don’t have to be nervous. Why don’t you start covering what you have done and feel okay with sexually? Then we can get back to basics and work from that.”

Tom told her about him and Ruth. The more he talked the more embarrassed he felt when he realized how... inexperienced he truly was. They had mostly just covered the missionary and sometimes with her on top.

But when Y/N urged him on, asked if they’d done oral sex he had to admit that no. Ruth had tried a few times on him but... she didn’t know how to keep her teeth out of the way and that hade always made him lose his hard on quicker than an bucket of ice cold water.

Y/N looked at him with an eyebrow raised. ”And you never tried to do it for her?”

Tom looked down in shame. ”No,” he admitted. ”I just...  I guess I never really thought about it. Except when she tried to go down on me I always... I was always turned on just by her and I simply thought she felt the same.”

He could practically see how Y/N held back a sigh so to not make him feel worse although he didn’t think it was possible. If the rock bottom of failure had a basement then he was in there, alright.  

Then Y/N spoke:

”Okay, first things first. The thing about us women is that not only can it take a while for us to orgasm but it can also take some time for us to be ready for sex. You guys have it easy – you get hard and you’re ready to go. What most of you don’t understand with us women is that yes, we get wet when we want to have sex but the vaginal channel also widens because of the sudden blood flow there. 

Sometimes that can take a minute. So don’t go straight for the pussy because even a finger may hurt if she’s not ready. And if it hurts you might have irritated the tissue and it will be uncomfortable later, even if she’s then properly prepared.”

”So give the girl time; kiss, touch. Play with her breasts, kiss them, the neck, the spot beneath the ear... there are so many places that are sensitive that will get her going. You want to try?”

Tom’s eyes widened. ”Yeah,” he breathed out, making it sound like a sigh.

Y/N giggled. ”Go ahead. I’ll give you some tips along the way if you need it.”

Tom moved closer to her, placing his hands on her waist before he leaned in to kiss her.

He had been worried it would feel awkward and fake, but he felt himself melting into the kiss as she reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He felt safe with kissing, knowing that he wasn’t lacking in that area at least. He let his tongue slip inside her mouth, tasting her and already feeling his cock starting to harden. Y/N hummed into the kiss, and he took that as a good sign. As he withdrew from her lips he started started to kiss her jawbone, and down to the spot beneath her ear which she had told him about. That made her humm again, closing her eyes in what looked like bliss. He kissed her neck, sucking carefully as he slid a hand in beneath her shirt, touching the warm skin on her lower back. 

Y/N moved one of her hands into his hair, tugging on his curls and that sent a spark through him.

He did exactly as she had instructed, moving to the other side of her neck, nibbling on her earlobe, which made Y/N utter a whimper – that gave Tom a needed ego boost.

Swiftly he pressed his lips to hers again, moaning himself as the kiss turned hungry, all tongue and teeth clicking against each other.

He couldn’t bear to wait any longer, he needed to see more of her. Quickly he raised her arms above her head and pulled her shirt off, his eyes growing big as saucers when he saw the purple, lacy bra that pushed her breasts together, giving a generous cleavage. He dove right in again, kissing from her collarbone, leaving dark marks down to her breast and pulled the cup down. She was perfect – even better than he had imagined. He made a motion to lay her down on the couch, placing his lips over her hardened nipple. Y/N’s hands were still in his hair and she spoke: ”If you want you can tease me a little – wet the nipple with your tongue, flick it back and forth, blow on it before you start sucking on them. Nipples are more sensitive than they seem, they just need to the right stimulation for it.”

He did what she said, teasing her nipple by rubbing them with his thumb, while kneading the other breast, blowing warm air over it as it started to get cold from the air in the room settling over his saliva. Soon he had her arching her back and moaning.

”Yes, Tom, that feels so good!” she purred, making his cock give a persistent twitch. ”Can I take these off?” he wondered, pulling on her jeans.

”Yes, go ahead. I want to see you too,” Y/N told him sitting up and letting him undo her jeans while she went for his belt buckle. It lead to them both laughing as they tried to take the other’s pants off at the same time, getting tangled in each other.

When they had finally gotten rid of both garments Tom felt his mouth water as he caught sight of her purple lace knickers, matching the bra. Was that something she did all the time or had she hoped to get some action tonight? He pushed the thought away, letting his finger slid over the lace. It was damp.

”Is this all for me?” he wondered and she nodded.

”Sure is. Tell me, Tom... do you want to learn how to eat a girl out?”

taglist:

@ficsbypix @melodymunson @eddie-is-a-god @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn

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[archivalofsins]

There’s a conversation to be had around the similarities of two prisoner’s stories within Milgram. All the prisoners' stories have similarities of course but I'd like to focus on two that I personally haven't seen compared that much. Now the reason I may not have seen many comparisons is because I'm just woefully inactive in the tags in general. I don't look in Milgram tags on any platform.

So, please excuse me if you've seen something like this before. The prisoners that I’ll be discussing today are Prisoner 007 Kazui Mukuhara and Prisoner 010 Kotoko Yuzuriha. So, let’s have a fun discussion for a bit.

To no one’s surprise this all comes down to lying.

Kazui is known for lying within Milgram. Kazui’s inclusion in the cast serves the purpose of highlighting the dishonesty of his peers through himself. If Kazui can blatantly admit to being a practiced liar, then what does that say about the rest of the cast.

This same concept is repeatedly highlighted over the trial one interrogations through Es stating at the beginning of each one that the prisoners can lie. Blatantly reminding who they are interrogating that they are not obligated to be honest with him that it is their job as the warden, Milgram's (through the song extraction), as well as fans to figure out what the truth actually is.

So, it's of no concern to them if the prisoners are honest or not. At the end of the day, it is Es' job to discern the truth of the situation. These statements call to attention to the fact that no individual needs to incriminate themselves or admit to wrongdoings in the face of authority figures. Along with the very human inclination to lie and make oneself look better than they were/are to avoid consequences. This is highlighted again through the birthday interaction Kazui has with Yuno (on her birthday) during this trial.

I’m getting ahead of myself, though. First let’s talk about why Kazui lies.

Kazui purports to lie for the sake of those around him. Stating on multiple occasions that telling the truth is what led to his crime. That if he just kept lying it would have been better for the sake of those around him.

In Half he laments no longer being capable of lying to himself about his own feelings. Projecting his internal issues on those around him. Still trying to continue the lie for their sake. In every lyric lamenting how, his heart has changed while someone else’s never will. Reeling over why the things he purposefully cast to the wayside are back to question him now.

Avowing that this heart of his is about to disappear while asking for someone to please tell him what to do before it does. In a very similar way to how Yuno repeatedly asks in Umbilical.

“Please tell me what I should do, my heart will float away and disappear.”- “What do you want to do? Please tell me.”

Asking those around him how he should perform in contrast to Yuno asking those around her how they want to proceed. Kazui is once again trying to go up on that stage to give the appearance he believes those around him want. Putting on an act for an audience of one. The first one being himself and the next one being his victim. Presenting that best version of himself that they’ve built up in their minds.

At first he did this to defend himself because,

“It’s better to be a let down, than to be let down yourself.”

*What comes after this is my interpretation of this translation as such it may not be completely accurate.*

23/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday) Kazui: You’ve been helping Shidou-kun, right? That’s a bit surprising. You didn’t seem to be the type to concern yourself with others. Yuno: Hmm, what’s this all of a sudden? It’s not like you’re wrong, I’m not really that interested in people. Under other circumstances I wouldn’t even bother- But if someone is about to die in front of me, I’ll help out. That’s just normal, isn’t it? Don’t you view it that way too, Kazui-san? Despite helping too, you don’t really seem invested on a fundamental level either. Kazui: …Maybe. I’m not as sharp as Kashiki-chan. I was brought up in a world that was all about physical strength. So, I’ve never even thought about things like that. Yuno: Haha, we’re both liars, aren’t we? The only difference between us is our reasons for lying. You lie to protect yourself, because you’re important in your own eyes. For me, no one is particularly important- Even myself.

And,

“If I were to make sure and suffer, I would rather be by your side. Laughing together, side by side, this distance in our relationship is misleading me, is this what happiness is?”

If the only options are pain or pain in good company many people would choose the latter. Like he says in Cat,

“The beating of this heart... see... it’s no longer about good and bad... it isn’t. I realize the futility, but I still can’t help but dream.”

In a situation where all roads lead to pain and suffering, where no one comes out unscathed. Every possible option is a futile attempt at delaying the inevitable and one’s only choices are burn alone or together. What would a person rather choose a lie that hurts themselves or a truth that hurts everyone?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Kazui’s sin isn’t as simple as being dishonest because dishonesty is a given in life. The reasons people lie by every definition are varied and intricately painful. Not just on those lied to but those doing the lying as well. Yet, honesty can be just as painful. It can be ruthless and selfish. Because people rarely come off as being honest to benefit the other person.

A person can be honest with the best of intentions, but those intentions don’t determine how the person they’re being honest with will take their words. There’s no way to let a person down gently, at times the only thing a person is going to be able to do in life is let them down. Sometimes a disappointment isn’t a learning experience but just a disappointment. It’s just a moment where someone dejectedly goes,

“You’re not the person I thought you were.”

A moment that hurts everybody. Both a situation and sentiment that Kazui is all too familiar with. Something he can’t help but be sympathetic to and disgusted by. Because it’s something he’s done himself. He’s looked at someone and got an idea of them that they could never live up to. He thought someone could be something for him that they couldn’t and knows good and well where these expectations lead.

Second Trial Teaser Movie

“Er, so…… could you listen to what I say without laughing? I……”

The Second Trial Character Voice Trailer [Full Ver.] Glitched Line

“Hinako, I love you more than anything.”

Character Voice Trailer [Full Ver.] Glitched Subbed Line

“I’m so dumb… Why did I have to dream?”

"I realize the futility, but I still can’t help but dream."

"I can’t STOP, I can’t be NORMAL."/ "Tell me why you tell me, “STOP”?"

Kotoko is at the stage of her life Kazui used to be at. Lying to herself saying that what she's doing is for the sake of others. Yet, in actuality, everything that she's been doing has all been for herself.

From the very beginning she never asked for others to understand. For them to agree with her methods or reasoning. Telling us loud and clear why she does the things she does from the start.

Character Voice Trailer [Full Ver.] Glitched Subbed Line

"This feels so good."

Second Trial Teaser Movie

"What do you think? Does it hurt? Purge complete. This is the appropriate punishment."

The Second Trial Character Voice Trailer [Full Ver.] Glitched Line

"From the beginning I've never asked for your understanding! My actions, one by one, are bringing Earth closer to peace. Useless weaklings should just shut up and let me protect them!"

"It’s ok to dislike, right?"

Only using others as a justification for what she already wanted to do.

Make yourselves my reason.

From the beginning she only wanted-

A reason for judgment execution.

The people around her supply that reason to her. Outside of that she couldn't care less about how they feel about her behavior or what they think of her.

"So it’s wrong? Oh shove that! INNOCENT, isn’t that right?"/"Don’t you dare stop now."

As long as they don't stop giving what she wanted to do in the first place a meaning.

"If it damaged someone’s dream to the points of stopping it."

If they don't damage her dream to the point of stopping it.

"Tell me why you tell me, “Stop”. "

As long as they're weak, if they can't defend themselves, if wrong doers exist then she can-

"Laugh and I can get to like myself."

She can keep-

"Drowning in the knowledge that I am right."

But if someone gets in the way of that. Tells her what she's doing is excessive or too much. Then they're just trampling on her reason to live her dream. Kotoko lies to herself stating that she's doing what she does for the sake of those around her.

Saying that,

Q.12 What is your motto? Kotoko: “There’s no other way that could let us live, so I walk this path.” [TN: Quote from Mushanokouji Saneatsu.]

Yet, the truth is it's the only way that she can live with herself. It's the only way that she can satisfy and validate her own abnormal existence.

I feel like I’m going crazy after straining my nerves. The person that can’t be saved, is now understanding the abnormality.

"That’s why I became your fangs as the long-awaited hero."/ "Maybe, perhaps... or... could it come true..."

Q.19 Do you want to be forgiven? Kazui: I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I do kind of want my weakness to be pardoned. Q.03 Do you think any other prisoners who committed the same sin as you deserve to be forgiven? Kotoko: Of course. Haven’t I already said that I believe my actions have been correct?

Both wanting to be forgiven accepted as they are. Yet, both refusing to accept others outside of their own terms.

"I just wanted to touch, to caress. I just wanted to be touched."/ "I want a reason for judgment execution, I want it. Give me the next target."

Both caressing the morals and feelings they held so dear.

Yet, slowly corrupting them through realizing the meaning these things held were nothing more than convenient excuses. One tearing apart the lie through their own will and the other clinging to it with bloody hands because it's the only thing left for them to stand on. The only thing that can tell them they're right anymore.

Q.08 Which do you prioritise between logic and feelings? Kazui: I put my feelings first and it ended badly. So, I don’t want to act just based on feelings again. Q.18 Do you regret your “murder”? Kazui: I regret it. I wish I could’ve just kept lying. Q.12 What is your motto? Kotoko: “There’s no other way that could let us live, so I walk this path.”[TN: Quote from Mushanokouji Saneatsu.] Q.13 Do you have any regrets? Kotoko: No. Q.15 Which is more important, the objective or the means? Kotoko: Objective. Does that not go without saying?

Because as long as the goal is good, then the means to get there don't matter.

The biggest difference between them is that Kazui longs for the verdict of Innocent and Kotoko Guilty. Kazui asking Es to base their verdicts not on their beliefs but on what's safest and Kotoko asking us to simply hate evil for what it is without sparring sympathy for the prisoners.

Pointing out how we wouldn't care if she did this to these criminals if it wasn't for the fact we know them all while Kazui brings up how natural it is to lie for the people you care about if it means they won't get hurt.

Both trying to encourage the audience to do what they believe to be the best thing over the course of trial two.

"Lick that sin and oppose punishment, until you can meet the king of the masquerade."/ "Hate evil as the evil that it is! Don’t you dare stop now. I want a reason for judgment execution, I want it. Give me the next target “UNDER”."

Both asking the audience these opposing questions.

How far should someone be allowed to go just because they care for someone? Is anything and everything on the table? Is there no lie too big and no action too harmful? How far should someone be allowed to go just because of how much they dislike a certain person or action? How far should even our best intentioned and moral biases be allowed to go? Is there no limit to the harm one should be allowed to cause in the name of justice and peace?

Does the blood stain less based on the reason behind the bleeding? Or does it stick just the same.

Say that sympathy is useless.- Love (plus) Destiny = Crap, smash it, shatter it, bye-bye.

Follow the King of the Masquerade./Come on, rely on me, go on.

Give me the verdicts of GUILTY.-INNOCENT, isn’t that right?

To be caressed by you, that would be perfection.- They’re still here, still here, it grates me.

[nobody-for-sure]

Language Barrier

For those of you who haven't cracked the code yet: as of the last chapter, there’s now two (one for each country’s language). However, as a reminder for everyone, I maintain that the story can still be easily read and enjoyed with only context clues. If you're feeling frustrated trying to crack it, take a break. A fic about a language barrier where you had to know the language would be pretty pointless, wouldn't it?

Chapter 15

(~2.7k words, see chapter list here)

You may have fucked up.

Correction: you definitely fucked up.

The good news is that the teleport waypoints do, in fact, teleport you. Which is cool. Very neat. That means they weren't just a convenient game mechanic for the traveler. Good to know.

The bad news is that you apparently can't control where they teleport you, because when the blinding light fades, you're most definitely NOT in Liyue Harbor.

Fuck, go back. Quickly, you turn to the new waypoint beside you and press your hand against it. "Take me to Wangshu Inn!"

In an unsurprising turn of events... nothing happens. Nevertheless, you keep your hand pressed to the device, waiting. Lag? Is it lag? It took a few moments to activate the first time around, so maybe you just need to be patient.

Minutes pass, and your hand falls to your side. Why is this my life??? In what universe do the teleports only go one way? Are they one-time use? What a rip-off! You consider trying again, asking for a different destination, but you think better of it. It didn't even take you to the right spot in the first place, so you'd better not give it the chance to dump you somewhere worse.

Speaking of... where am I, anyway? You take a long look around. Unfortunately - likely due to the world being bigger than the game - you've been finding in your travels so far that nothing looks exactly the same as you remember it. Nevertheless, you try to stay calm and think things through rationally. (Not doing so has already been your downfall more than you'd like to admit.)

The air is thinner here, and foggy, so you deduce you must be in the mountains somewhere. It makes you thankful you didn't get transported to Dragonspine, at least; you're definitely not dressed for that. You don't think you've left Liyue, either. Not that you would recognize Fontaine or Natlan if you saw them, but the few scattered trees and vegetation seem to fit the bill. Thinking back to the game, you close your eyes in concentration. If I remember correctly, there were some pretty large mountains right next to the harbor. One of them had a waypoint, didn't it? That must be where I am. It's definitely not what you had in mind, but it's also the most logical option you can think of.

You sigh. At least I'm close. Now I just have to figure out a way down. From there, you'll find a way to get a message to your traveling companions.

You give the waypoint a withering glare. Still, could it really not have dropped me anywhere closer? And what's with the indefinite cooldown all of a sudden?? Muttering under your breath, you pick a direction that looks vaguely familiar and start walking. Hopefully, your reception in Liyue will be smoother than it was in Mondstadt... though your misfortunes in the land of freedom were entirely self-inflicted to begin with.

When am I going to stop making life harder for myself?

The mountaintop is hilly, and at first, the fog makes it difficult to see too far ahead. But you're in luck: after several minutes of walking, the fog starts to dissipate, and you can see a cliff edge ahead. Perfect. You can scope out your location and see if you can spot a way down - perhaps there'll even be a nice, gentle slope with a pathway leading straight into the city.

Yeah, right.

But as much as you weren't expecting that to be true, what you see instead comes as even more of a shock.

The sides of the mountain are steep craggy inclines as far as the eye can see, and that's the least of your problems. You're nowhere near the harbor. In fact, you're nowhere near much of anything. Not Qingce, not Mingyun, not even the Chasm, which appears to be the closest thing to civilization in the distance. You know where you are now. The three dreaded trial towers of Tianqiu stand tall across the gorge. No wonder your surroundings seemed vaguely familiar: back when you first pulled Xiao, this was the waypoint you used every day to get to the Primo Geovishap.

But how in Teyvat does 'take me to Liyue Harbor' translate to this?!

...Wait a minute.

You backtrack for a moment. Xiao. I can call Xiao!

You feel much better about summoning the adeptus now that you're actually in need of his assistance, rather than just to say hi. "Xiao!" Despite the situation, you can't quite conceal the tinge of excitement in your voice as you speak the yaksha's name. There's a moment of silence. You hold your breath in anticipation. And then:

"Biat ye, ika! Kundala kucha unu!"

If you had a table, you'd flip it. For the first time, you do recognize the language being spoken. Who would've thought it'd turn out to be a bad thing?

You wheel around to see two club-wielding hilichurls, a geo samachurl, and - by far the most menacing - a rock shieldwall mitachurl almost twice your size. And, in yet another dissimilarity to the fanfics, they do not look happy to see you. Frantically, you think back to your daily commissions with Ella Musk. "Um. Olah?"

The mitachurl charges.

You leap back from the ledge. The last thing you want is to get knocked off and fall to your death. The mitachurl zooms past, missing you by a hair and grunting as it skids to a stop itself, adjusting its shield. The hilichurls are right behind, waving their wooden clubs in a frenzy. They're less formidable, but they have numbers in their favor: when you move to dodge a blow to the head, the other manages to land a heavy hit on your upper arm. You stumble backward a couple steps, cursing. It's not bleeding, but it will definitely leave a nasty bruise. "Xiao!!" Where is he?!

...Oh, wait.

He probably can't understand that I'm calling him, can he?

Fuck.

When you regain your balance, you turn around and make a desperate dash back for the waypoint. The ground rumbles, and rocky spikes shoot up from underneath you (courtesy of the samachurl, no doubt). You skirt around them, and they crumble, but you can hear shouts in hilichurlian behind you. You put on a burst of speed. Soon, the pounding of your heart and the panting of your breath drown out all other sounds.

That's why, when you crest a slight hill, you let out an unholy screech as yet another masked figure appears in your field of vision. Immediately, you swerve the other direction, but you barely move another step before a firm hand clamps down on your shoulder.

"Uwoug. You'll xgovxxo more of them."

You do a double take, and your heart nearly stops in relief. "Xiao," you breathe.

It's hard to tell if it's because of his temperament or not, but the adeptus doesn't seem very happy to see you.

He came to your rescue, there's no doubt about that. Once you realize it's him, you feel safe enough to risk a glance over your shoulder at your enemies. But they're simply... gone. All traces of them have vanished completely, as if the attack existed purely in your imagination.

Obliterated, your mind supplies, in a mixture of fear and awe. You've never been gladder that this is not an imposter au.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, though, your arm is roughly grabbed. "Hey!" you exclaim out of reflex, and the masked face snaps to yours so quickly that you instinctively shut your mouth. It could just be the eerie glow of the eyes, but you somehow get the feeling that he's glaring at you. When you don't say anything further, he makes a derisive noise and turns around. However, as he drags you to a nearby cave, removes his mask, and pins you with a piercing golden stare (that's even scarier than the mask, honestly), it's hard to tell where you stand with him.

"What are you doing?" he asks sharply.

The question roots you to the spot, not because of its content, but because it feels like forever since you've heard an entire coherent sentence from someone. The fact that it's being directed at you angrily by one of your favorite characters is secondary. It takes you a minute to absorb it, because inside your head, you're already celebrating. I was right! Xiao's at level seven! My friendship level theory was right!

The adeptus is not in the mood to wait for your celebration, though. "Vubwro," he says sternly. "Why are you here?"

You blink. "Ah- sorry. Um- by accident?"

He furrows his brow. "By what?"

"...accident...?" When the crease in his brow only grows, you realize he must not be able to understand that word. "Oh. Well, I tried to use one of the waypoints to get to the harbor, but it didn't work. Somehow I ended up here instead."

You expect him to maybe sigh or call you an idiot, but he just shakes his head, expression unchanging. "Not that," he says, sounding irritated. It's a sharp contrast to the way everyone else has spoken to you. "Why are you back?"

The question seems to hold a certain gravity. Your excitement fades. "...Back?"

He gives a single nod. Your chest tightens, and the ominous feeling you've been getting recently returns in flash. "Um... I don't know what you mean," you admit slowly.

"What?" His gaze narrows even further, and he opens his mouth before closing it again. "Xyob here," he says brusquely, before vanishing.

Numbly, you lean against the cave wall, turning the question over in your head. 'Back'? What does he mean? I haven't been here before. ...Moreover, the way he's acting... could it be...? You gulp.

Several minutes pass before there's a flash of pale green light, and the yaksha appears before you again. Before you can say a word, he sinks to one knee and bows his head. "I udykapaso. It's an varal to make your ugroxryoetgo, Your Grace," he says coolly.

You can barely make heads or tails of the fragmented sentence beyond 'Your Grace', but the complete reversal in attitude is enough to leave you gaping. "...What?"

"Which xvos did you not hroxwvuhre, Your Grace?" he says patiently, without raising his head. His tone exudes a strange sense of neutrality devoid of its previous emotion. It's... unnerving, to say the least.

"Wait. No, wait. What? What is this?? Who are you, and what did you do with Xiao?"

"I am Xiao, Your Grace."

"No, no. Where's that other guy I talked to? The one who was mad at me? That was Xiao."

"...That was me." You notice he doesn’t deny the part about being mad.

"...Are you actually a whopperflower?"

"Am I a what?"

"So you are?!"

"No, I am not," he says firmly, and this time you catch a familiar rough edge in his voice. So it is him.

"Then what's with all... this? Why are you so calm and... nice all of a sudden, when you were definitely not happy to see me before? ...Also, stand up."

He does. "It is krylxar to rvugrag yourself with, Your Grace. I was runoxwyq."

You purse your lips. You didn't understand much of that, but your mind is too preoccupied to try and break it down. You're almost scared to hear the answer, but you want... no, you need to know if it's a possibility. "...Did you think I was someone else?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment. Xiao folds his arms and gives you a long, searching look. "No," he says finally. "I could never." His words hold no hint of insincerity or falsehoods.

Your brow furrows in confusion. "Then-"

"I will not be krynousw more on this," he snaps.

You raise your hands in surrender. "Okay." Whatever is behind his sudden change in demeanor, it's obviously a touchy subject, and you would never force him to tell you. You've heard all you needed.

An awkward silence falls over the cave. You have no idea what's going through the yaksha's mind, but for your part, you're trying to piece together everything that's happened since your first encounter.

The way he treats you is undeniably different than the others you've met so far. Is it a Liyue thing, or an adeptus thing, or a Xiao thing? First brash, and now more formal... yet still lacking the unquestioning respect and adoration of Mondstadters. Most baffling is the fact that he claimed to know who you were the entire time. You believe him - but you have no idea what to make of it. Nor were you expecting these sorts of complications right off the bat with the first person you can (almost) properly communicate with.

It's painfully ironic: the first one you can comprehend is the one you understand the least.

You sigh. You don't know how you were expecting your first meeting with Xiao to go, but like every other part of your journey so far, this definitely wasn't it. You can't begin to fathom what sort of relationship the two of you have. It doesn't seem to be a good one. Maybe something's different for characters you've built and travelled with - which would explain why you had a different reception in Mondstadt - but you can't think of what or why it would be. It doesn't seem like he's about to tell you, either.

At the very least, though, no matter what he might be hiding, he didn't hate you enough to leave you at the mercy of the hilichurls earlier. You owe him for that. "Thank you for coming to help me."

He exhales and gives a slight nod before turning to face you fully. "What are you doing in reiuem xwvon?" he asks, more calmly than before.

"In where?"

"...Here."

"Um, that doesn't really- never mind, not important. I think I mentioned this earlier, but I'm not here on purpose...... you look confused."

"I can't hroxwvuhre half of the whvab you say," he responds bluntly, reminding you of your glaring communication problem. "Try using vupsqyw ones."

"...Using what ones?"

"Vuywou," he says, and when you shake your head, "Small."

"Small ones?" Small words? You turn this over in your head for a moment. Breaking it down, you feel like you've actually been able to understand a majority of what he's said, but he's right. Most of the words you recognize are short and fall into very basic English. Alright, then. You can work with that. It's hard to say exactly where friendship levels draw the line, but better Razor language than sorry.

"Okay," you start off, "I did not try to be here." You give him a questioning glance, and he nods for you to continue. "I used a... thing. I tried to go to the-" you pause, debating whether 'harbor' falls into basic English and deciding it probably doesn't- "...place. Not here - place with water and boats." He shakes his head in confusion, and you wave it off. "I tried to go to a place, but the thing took me here. I don't know why." Stupid waypoint.

The adeptus takes a minute to absorb this information. "Which... thing did you use?"

A lightbulb goes off in your brain, and you squat down, tracing your finger in the dirt. "This thing."

He seems to be trying hard to hide his exasperation when he repeats, "Yes. Which thing?"

"Which one?" Does it matter? Well, for all you know, it does. "Uh, the one at Wangshu Inn."

"Try again."

"Um... the one at the hotel? No? Okay... the one at the place, with... the food you like?"

Xiao bristles, and for the first time - if only for a fraction of a second - you get the strong sense you know what he's thinking. If you showed up, he had expected to meet you there. "You were there? When?"

"Just now."

"How?"

You shrug. "I came with people. From-" you sigh- "place."

He mulls this over, narrowing his gaze. "If you didn't try to be here, why did you not go back?"

"Because I can't. That's why I was hoping you could help me," you respond. "The thing here didn't work."

At long last, you've been able to steer the conversation around to the reason you summoned him in the first place. Moreover, the act of conversing itself has been going a lot better now, if you do say so yourself. This is progress. This is good. It's a great feeling, like you're finally making some headway through the chaotic mess you've found yourself in.

And then the yaksha brings you crashing down again.

"Then you can't leave."

[djwiththejd]

The Fall of the House of Usher (2023) Episode 1

A foreword, of sorts: If someone had told me in high school or even college that I would willingly sit down to watch a horror tv show, I would have laughed in their face. Who knew it would take my college professor Emma's teachings of Pym and my first foray into Critical Theory that I brought with me to law school to get to this point. I haven't even finished watching School Spirits yet so the depression has really taken me for a ride, but my boyfriend says I need a hobby, and I spent two and a half hours and 7 and a half pages of notes on just the first episode of this show, so I'm going to write about it because I miss writing.

If you're here from twitter, may the gods have mercy on your soul.

Now, let's move on to business. My recap of Episode 1 of The Fall of The House of Usher. There will be spoilers for the Poe stories as well as detailed commentary of the events within the episode, so obviously I'm going to put a SPOILER WARNING for whatever you read below. Also, since the first episode introduces the story and the characters, it will probably be long as heck and full of background that no one but me cares about because I'm a huge nerd. I don't care if you skim. Read at your own peril; stay tuned for danger.

Firstly, let's talk about the original short story and see if Wikipedia can help me write a good, short summary of the premise/plot of that story. From within the first two minutes of the show, I can tell that we are going to deviate wildly from the plot.

In the original short story, published in 1839, the tale is told by an unnamed narrator who has been called to the House of Usher at the behest of his childhood friend Roderick Usher who is ill and needs help. Roderick and his twin Madeline are the only living members of the Usher family left alive in their family mansion. One thing that high school teachers everywhere probably tried to teach their students is to pay attention to the narrator's notice of a thin crack that extends from the roof, down the house, and into the nearby lake. This may be important later, but for me right now, I view it as a double entendre. Spoiler alert, at the end of the original short story, both Roderick and Madeline die, leading to the "fall" of the House of Usher, in that the last two living descendants die and therefore end the family name, and also the literal "fall" of the house, the family mansion that they lived in.

I have to admit I watched the first two minutes, tweeted about it, then got so engrossed about halfway through the episode that I grabbed a legal pad and started the episode from the beginning.

Firstly, the opening starts with a countdown to New Year's 1980 before we see a quick image of a cawing raven and a creepy vision of Carla Gugino's smiling face. The episode is titled "A Midnight Dreary," a line from Poe's "The Raven," so at this point I'm confused because obviously this is a completely different short story, but I roll with it. Unfortunately, I didn't have the foresight last night to look ahead and see what the other episode titles were, because then I would have probably understood the plot a little better.

We cut now to a stained glass window in a church (hello Jesus symbolism, can't wait to ponder you later) and then the pastor seems to be giving a eulogy about three dead people. We cut to an older gentleman with a teen girl sitting behind him who seems to be remembering 6 different visions. Side note: I googled the eulogy, and it cobbles together various lines from Poe's poems as well as quotes that are ascribed to Poe. At this point I guess that the older man and older women in sunglasses are the twins, and wonder who the teen girls are behind each of them before seeing MARK MOTHERFUCKING HAMILL on the screen. Even in my notes I just write him down as Mark Hamill, or MH, which is a real shame because his character's name is Arthur Pym, which is the main character from the only "book" Poe ever wrote, and there's a lot of controversy around whether it was finished or not, but I spent several classes in undergrad analyzing that book in particular, so it has a very soft spot in my heart.

Roderick(?) turns back and sees a figure with a blacked out face in the rafters, but then the girl turns around, nobody is there. When she turns to him, she calls him Grampus, so I can assume this girl is his granddaughter and not his daughter. Then Roderick (?) says, "She's here." Not quite to his granddaughter, but mostly to himself. How cryptic. I'm sure we won't think about that until it jumps right into our faces. At this point, in hindsight I had assumed that the "very pale girl" behind Madeline was her granddaughter, but oh how wrong I was.

Outside the church, we see press all over, but the church itself was noticeably empty. Then, then, we cut to a cork board. This confirms Roderick and Madeline are who I thought I was, and also gives Mark Hamill the name of Arthur Pym. Then, I painstakingly went in and paused at nearly every second of the next scene to read the details on the children, their dates of death, and any bits of information I could get from the articles about cause of death (aka COD.) The death dates are clustered very closely together. I don't know quite yet if it goes from youngest to eldest, but I'm sure we shall find out.

Then, the big reveal. Well, to me at least. I saw that the Assistant U.S. Attorney was C. Auguste Dupin, and let me tell you I pumped my fist in the air and nearly woke up my sleeping boyfriend next to me. Why? You don't care but I'm going to tell you. Dupin was introduced in The Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841), my favorite Poe short story, and also the first ever piece of writing ever coined as "detective fiction." Yes, my absolute favorite genre of writing was created by Edgar Allan Poe, so as problematic as he may have been, I will always be grateful to him for this. Besides, the plot for Rue Morgue was so wild, I saw Dupin's name and had to pause and tweet about it. Specifically, I tweeted about hoping that one of the CODs would be strangulation by an escaped monkey. Mind you, like an idiot, I still haven't looked at the damn names of all of the episodes of the series. Since last night, I have been told to keep an eye out, so that's fun.

I can't believe I typed all of that up from the first like, three minutes of the show. I warned you this was going to be long.

Then, we pan out to the corkboard being a whole ass murder board. We love that. Still no clue who Pym is and why he's alive, but the random guy who walked into the office to talk to Dupin just said something about a Pym Reaper, so I got a chuckle out of that. There's emphasis here about "him" wanting to talk. Obviously, by process of elimination, this him is Roderick.

Dupin takes a taxi (oooh, vintage) to this location, and we see it is a dilapidated house. The "House" of Usher, methinks? I will say it definitely gives rise to the gothic vibe of terror and dread, but thankfully we're not going into Gothic architecture, that would have been a little too on the nose. The clothing I've seen is very modern and the death dates are all in November, so I genuinely thought it was set last year but it wasn't. Everything is apparently set to happen next month. In the future. How foreboding.

Roderick invites Dupin in and Dupin attempts to console Roderick for his losses, but Roderick seems much more focused on the drink in his hand. Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac Grande Champagne. I googled it and apparently it is a real drink. I have to say, Roderick really doesn't seem to curry favor with Dupin when he suggests "a single pour is probably worth double your annual salary" but then he offers a glass to Dupin. This man is clearly going through something. By now, I can surmise it is the death of his family, but is this The House of Usher? Is this dilapidated building the same setting that we see in the original tale? Is Dupin now taking the place of the unnamed narrator of past?

Dupin still tries to apologize, but Roderick just seems...resigned to his fate. Also, Dupin asks where Mr. Pym is and we find out that Mark Hamill is playing a defense attorney. Amazing. Three years of law school and a JD later, and Mark Hamill, one of my favorite actors, is playing an attorney with the name of one of my most intriguing literary characters. All of my worlds have collided.

Roderick waives his right to an attorney and sits Dupin down across from him to talk. Dupin says Roderick got away with it, Roderick says no one really ever gets away with anything, not really. Dupin pushes back and says Madeline would beg to differ. Roderick says you can ask yourself, she's downstairs in the basement. At this point, I am convinced that Madeline is dead and buried, but this episode will not reveal that information to me. Trust me, I'm holding onto that theory because it is close in parallel to the original story, but I am soooo open at this point to being surprised because the actor for Roderick has sucked me in completely. Bruce Greenwood. I have painfully powerful facial recognition, so it delights me that I've never seen him in anything before so I can get sucked into his acting completely. Seriously, I just recently recognized the brother in Get Out from a single episode of Victorious because that one episode is my favorite. It can ruin my immersion sometimes.

Anyhow, back to the story. I'm rambling, but I have ADHD and I miss stream of consciousness writing so this is more for me than it is for you.

Roderick's phone vibrates, he says it is his granddaughter, Lenore. My eyeballs are rolling back into my head. We have a connection to The Raven, finally. She's not dead at present, so we shall see if she follows her namesake into the Great Beyond. Dupin tries to graciously allow Roderick to take that call and cites that "grandkids take priority" but Roderick calls him out!

He says "Don't lecture me about family values. You're just as shit in that department as I am."

At this point I am confused but I can't look away. Roderick says he wants to give his confession. Dupin whips out a recorder. November 20th, 2023. Roderick confirms we are in his childhood home. I am vibrating like a cat because I think my theory is correct, and I realize that based off of the death dates of his children, that much of this series will be told from this setting, in those chairs, and with flashbacks to important moments.

I was not prepared for the beginning of this story. In 1953, the house is warmer, more cheerful. R and M are just children, and Roderick speaks about "the woman who would shape every choice we would ever make." Their mother. Eliza. Aptly given the same name as Poe's mother. Personal secretary to the CEO of Fortunato Pharmaceuticals. The same company the Ushers own in modern times. Already I have questions about the lineage of the twins, but you know how it is.

"Not here. Not ever. We agreed." Very cryptic words, Mr. Longfellow. Madeline always hated him, she "always knew." Knew he was a liar? A terrible person? Or did she know he was their father?

Then we get into the religious phrases the mom uses. "Like Jesus, he loves from afar." "He's complicated, like God." I always find it very interesting but also very sad when the words a woman uses to justify a man's abuse is cloaked in a veil of religion. I won't go into detail on that, though. There just isn't time.

Jump to 1962. Nine years later, the twins look to be teenagers. Their studying is interrupted by a bell, and we cut to Eliza ringing a bell in bed. There is a plethora of crosses now hanging on the wall behind her, so that's...lovely. Both twins rush to her, and Eliza pushes a glass of water away. At first I thought it was rabies, but then Eliza seems to be suffering from pain in her pelvic region based off of how her actress was portraying her pain. Honestly, my theory is that she probably had an untreated STI which may have spread to other organs. Either way, her denial of medication or a doctor horrifies me. The screaming and the vitriol is a complete tone shift to who she was prior. But what I really find interesting is that Madeline, not Roderick, seems to be the brains of the pair. She is the one who coaches Roderick on what to say and how to say it to Longfellow, even though Roderick eventually messes up. There seems to be a double entendre in the way Madeline says "it's the least he can do." Because I have suspicions that Madeline knows he is their father, I keep autofilling this in my head. The shift in Mr. Longfellow's mood from humorous, almost mocking disbelief to anger and contemptuous pushback against the twins when Roderick tells him "she loves you" is enough for me. Even Madeline following up with "It's the least you could do. For her. For us." isn't necessary anymore for me to believe he is the father.

Longfellow's denial only seals the deal.

Cut to Eliza's...corpse. She didn't make it, but in trying to keep with her wishes, they tear apart the shed and build her a coffin and bury her in the backyard. Of course, because *spoiler alert* Madeline was accidentally buried alive, I had a hunch Eliza might climb out of her grave. I was proven right, and Eliza wakes up, tries to attack Roderick, but stops when Eliza calls her "Mommy" and grabs her arm. (Actress for teen Madeline is also fantastic, her look of horror was evocative as fuck. 10/10. No notes.) ELiza then walks out, goes into the gates of Longfellow's house and proceeds to choke him to death (with apparently superhuman strength) before finally collapsing next to his body.

What I *love* about this all is that when we cut back to the present, and Dupin asks about why Roderick is telling him all this, Roderick says it is because she's standing right behind Dupin! And you know what drives me nuts? SHE IS. SHE'S TOTALLY THERE AND HE DOESN'T TURN AROUND! Dupin does not see her and we see eliza walk out of the frame.

It is important to note that Roderick talks about the cleanup of that story to spare "his" family, the Usher family, of any embarrassment. He confirms that Longfellow was his father but doesn't claim him as family because Longfellow never claimed him, but it explains why he acknowledges all six of his children from five different mothers.Roderick wouldn't close the gates. Finally, we have confirmation, verbal confirmation from Roderick about who his father was.

Side note: Dupin has a husband, how progressive. I'm down for it. We love it when the elderly LGBTQ+ community is acknowledged.

Two weeks ago:

Then we switch to a trial against Fortunato Pharmaceuticals and the Usher "crime" family, according to Dupin's opening statement. As someone who did pretty damn well in both evidence and criminal law, I'm side-eyeing this opening statement. Let me tell you, law school ruins your ability to suspend disbelief for so many court things in television and movies. Also Fortunato? After The Cask of Amontillado? That's the short story I had to read in high school, and I enjoyed it enough. It does, however, tie in well if the company is also destroyed, locked away, hidden from society, whatever you want to call it to tie into the ending of Cask.

I will say this, Roderick fathered gorgeous children nonstop. Every one of these actors is stunning. I found it odd that the camera panned to Lenore and her mother(?) for a close up when Dupin talks about corruption ut when panned out Lenore is hidden from the view of the audience. At this point, I had not drawn any conclusions as to why that is. I kept fixating on "The Pale Girl," who we later find out is Juno, Roderick's newest wife. Let me tell you, that revelation was crazy because I thought she was Madeline's sole daughter who idolized Dita Von Teese and Dolores Umbridge in the worst hybridization of ways, but Ruth Codd's facial expressions are stunning. I'm visibly uncomfortable when I look at her, and that's fantastic. She's showing me so much with her body language, I can't stand how good she is. Anyhow, I love her. I will be following more of her.

Then, Dupin drops the bomb. The bomb. The thing that makes Madeline's face go from quiet amusement to concern. The statement that makes every Usher child react. There's an informant in the midst. And it is one of them.

Pym, in my opinion, correctly calls out the failure to disclose the identity of this informant. When counsel approaches the bench, this opening statement about the family witness is struck from the record, but it does what Dupin intends it to do. It rattles the whole family. Pym probably makes so much damn money off of these people.

Roderick calls a family dinner for everyone and their spouses. Then we cut to introductions of each family member. Frederick turns out to be the father of Lenore, and his wife's name is Morrie, I think? I had to check Wikipedia for this, but her name is Morella, she's a former actress and model, and now she makes hyper-realistic cakes. Freddie gives me Dan Levy vibes. He blames Perrie, who I assume is Prospero. Lenore calls out that the informant would "have to be pretty brave, I guess" and asks if the charges are true. At this point, there is a massive, MASSIVe red flag waving in my head. Is Lenore the informant? Or is she the red herring? It gets more juicy when she suggests that "if someone really broke the law, shouldn't they be punished?" The red flag...of justice? Morrie casually warns that breaking away from family rank would get you written out of the will, highlighting the difference in values between Lenore and the rest of the family.

Then we cut to Tamerlane and her husband, Bill T. Wilson. (Very cute reference to a short story Poe wrote called William Wilson.) She also says her money on the informant is "one of the bastards." All this does it solidify her and Freddie as the two children Roderick had "in wedlock." Bill suggests the informant is Freddie, and Tamerlane pushes back. She muses that it might be Perry, Bill suggests Juno, her "new stepmom." Tamerlane bristles at this, but also drops that Juno doesn't "know anything." If she really is so new to the family she doesn't know its secrets, then she's the most innocent one there and is also the only one who took the charges against the family seriously enough to not be able to hide it on her face. Tamerlane mentions Goldbug, a short story I have not read, and Tamerlane drops an important tidbit: She doesn't care about the world, she cares about what her dad thinks." I had to google who tf Blippi is for this conversation. Also, they do threesomes? Also, TEST MONKEYS?

Yep. We're going to have the true Rue Morgue murder. We are now introduced to Victorine. And her surgical partner/life partner. They have a successful surgery of some sort on a test monkey. Post-op the women are seen talking about struggling to get peer review because of nightshade. Whatever this nightshade powder Roderick sent over, it's working, but it is the same stuff that paralyzes South American tourists who get it blown in their face. Spooky. Victorine jokes about keeping away from Perry. That boy does not have anyone on his side for this. He's painted as young, immature, and apparently a date rapist so far. However, Victorine points the finger at Camille!

We jump to Leo, apparently on the phone with his boyfriend Julius. He convinces Julius to not come to the family dinner, but he finds out that Julius is on his way up while he's getting head from a woman. So Leo is a bisexual and he's a cheater. Love that about him. Has a black cat named Pluto.

We shift to Camille, apparently the HBIC of the family's PR. She tosses out orders to her drab little assistants hastily scribbling down notes. Her comment about Victorine is not unnoticed, but Camille puts aside her own feelings about her sister in order to push ahead of the PR disaster of the trial. When asked about Juno, Camille has a lot more frustration there for the massive age gap and lack of, idk, decorum about Juno? I'm intrigued as to what "Scraped her off the emergency room floor" means but I'm sure I will find out. Her main priority is sniffing out the informant, she also points to Perry but also claims she doesn't think he's clever enough to talk to the Feds without it ending up on Tiktok. Ouch. Give Perry a damn break. Or don't. He sounds awful. They all certainly seem awful. Like Tamerlane, Camille seems eager to please her father, emphasizing that she wants to be the one who finds the informant to deliver their head to her father.

Juno speaks! and she's Irish. I love that. Apparently she moderated an NA meeting once, so she's either a drug addict or a drug addict seriously affected her family. Tie-in to the Fortunato company? Possible motive? Possible mole? We shall wait and see. I love the comedy Roderick drops in about how the children have to love Juno because the only thing stronger than love is their fear of getting written out of the will.

Then the family doctor arrives with private news on Roderick should hear...My money is either terminal cancer or a slow poisoning. Either way, we don't know what's up before- Surprise! Prospero, aka Perrie shows up.

We see him pour Glenfiddich '96 and I find out he and I are the same age...He pitches a nightclub to Roderick and Madeline who magically shows up and Juno flicks off to Godzilla-knows-where. Apparently he had a full year to come up with a proposal for his first business venture and his idea for a super exclusive nightclub gets shut down mercilessly because the Ushers are about "changing the fucking world." Perrie walks away with his tail between his legs and Madeline checks in with Roderick before heading off to the dining room. She claims when the paperwork is passed out, she'll be able to tell. Apparently she can always tell when someone is...lying? We shall see.

Briefly, we see Carla Gugino put down a drink and say "For the road" which clearly freaks Roderick out because how did this strange woman show up in his mansion's bar?

Cut to dinner, Morrie presents a textbook and Starbucks and we have an Is It Cake momen to light applause from everyone. I can't quite tell if he's being sarcastic about him marrying Morrie, but Freddie moves on to suck up to Roerick by complimenting Juno.

Madeline passes out a new and improved NDA (thank you Pym for your tireless work, I hope you are paid handsomely for this) including details about forfeiture of inheritance, etc regarding being the informant and the consequences that ensue. Victorine's partner Alessandra tries to not sign it until her own lawyer looks it over but one look from the family makes her change her mind.

The siblings bicker before Madeline shuts it down, explains the importance of Fortunato and threatens the informant with certain death. I know it is meant to be serious but I admit I had a little giggle. Then Roderick says "Fifty million dollars." The twins have placed a bounty on the unknown informant's head, effectively pitting the family against each other.

In the present, Roderick laments that this was the last time he saw all of them together, and the last time he saw some of them alive. He claims responsibility for the deaths of all of his children. Even though Dupin claims that these bizarre deaths are all verified to not be linked, Roderick doubles down, and then finally brings up "a woman." Now things are getting juicy. Carla Gugino appears in a variety of lighting and with different hair, so that suggests we'll see here several times throughout the show.

We cut now to New Year's Eve, 1979 heading into 1980. The twins are dressed as Gatbsy and Daisy, I gag a little at the incestual implications even though I knew they were coming, and sit back and watch how the twins first meet the woman, now known as Verna. Apparently they enter a bar hoping for enough people to be around to provide them with an alibi. Whatever they came from at Fortunato Pharmaceuticals, they need witnesses. We see again that Madeline is the mastermind behind every plan. A conversation about resolutions with Verna ensues.

We pan to the present. Dupin talks about some other event that happens that night. Verna predicts their lives will take a complete change of course on that night. Roderick again tells Dupin that every piece of this story is important. We flash back to the funeral. Roderick sees the faceless woman in the back, but then the next time he looks back, he sees the mangled corpses of his six children. When he exits the church, he sees a creepy court jester, like a malevolent joker from the playing card, briefly waiting for him in the car. He starts, notices his nose is bleeding, and then suddenly falls backward. Madeline and Pym rush to him, but arthur stares ahead to *gasp* a raven, and he says "It's time. It's time. It's time." How mysterious.

The episode ends and I finally look ahead to all the episode names like I should have done before. Each episode is based off of a different Poe story, and probably relates to the cause of death for each character. I haven't read some of them, but I feel like I will before I start each next episode. Or I will let myself be surprised. We shall see. Anyhow, I have spent all morning typing this. If you've read this far, I salute you. I'm tired, but also satisfied.

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"The last thing my mother did in this life was kill a powerful man. And we carried that secret with us and we loved her all the more."

[notallangelsaregood]

My thoughts on Spy x Family Chapter 83

Needless to say, my folks, huge manga spoilers ahead 🌹

Oh, boy, I was totally wrong! He he, but also, I got some things right!

No more guns, thanks, Lord! What was this wait? I was anxious, trying to keep my head off the upcoming update, and It was successful, I relaxed a little bit and BOOM, Sunday came, and I didn't even realize It was chapter's day, until I saw the notification on my smartphone and read it all in 10 seconds (have I mentioned I'm diagnosed with anxiety? No? Okay, yeah).

Now I'm trying to analyze a little bit of this week's chapter with you all while trying to stay sane till the next one, may Endo help us! So, I got a few hypotheses right! Actually, I believe only one 🤣

No revelations yet!

Which is something I'm really grateful for, even though we can not be sure if it will happen in the next chapters, I truly believe it won't. I feel like it's not the moment, the manga is at its peak (so is the anime) gaining a huge amount of notoriety and I don't Believe Endo would rush things, not right now. So I'm glad, I really feel revelations will make the story take a huge turn that we are not quite ready for it. There's so much to happen yet! What is the Garden? Which side is the organization it? What about Westalis? We know nothing. Spy x Family is a huge slow burn, and I'm all in for it.

CAN SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE? OH, WAIT, NO, NEVERMI-

Twillight is the one hurt, I'm surprised, truly. Yuri is quite a soldier, however, the hesitation present there was bigger than Twilight's ability, reflex and advantage (since he was the one pointing the gun first). My heart truly hurts for seeing him injured, I can't even explain. We've grown fond of our Spy, and It's not a nice feeling. At all

I know, I know he will be fine, he can't die or anything (haha, can he?😨) But still, it is making my heart hurts. In need for those "Yor takes care of Loid's wounds" fanfictions, please? Moving on.

See? Our Twilight is a smart guy. He senses his wavering. He knows it is there, but he doesn't understand why. He can't figure that by hurting (or killing) Yuri, he would deeply hurt Yor, and he would not do that. His unconscious is pretty clearly messing up with his conscious mind and decision-making. I doubt he will bring that up to the Handler, but it's possible, since they know each other very well. My guess is that Sylvia will just know. He won't even say a word and she will know.

Yeah, Yuri boy, I would totally be creeped out as well. His ability is outstanding and scary, even.

See? This guy had this major hypothesis (which is right?) figured in like, 5 seconds? He is so bright, Yor is proud as floof as she should. Yes, Yuri, he is someone close to you, someone observing you.

"But that doesn't matter now!" It will surely matter once you find out, but my guess is that he will keep that insight for himself, trying to figure it out on his own, but who knows? It will certainly be on his head, constantly.

Yuri's hair, I'm like 🤣 Our poor boy. Yes, Yuri, Twilight is tough, but so are you! What am I even saying? I don't have a side in this (kinda do). I want both of them not to be involved, never again fighting, for my heart's sake. They are both precious babies I want to keep them protected, but It's not up to us, right, Endo? Humpf...

Oh, well. GOOD THING he will live, Twilight, thank you for your unintentional totally intentional mercy.

I'm

Not okay. Look at his expression. I'm dying. I'm out of breath. Why is Endo like this? I mean, we are in a serious as floof situation, with conflict going on and you drew what? An expression like that which made me burst out laughing at 3 a.m? Dude.

He is a tough boy, I must admit.

Those expressions are killing me. And the worse, I don't know which one is which. That kick must have decreased the chances of a large family lineage for one of them, for sure 🍒 If you know what I mean.

Yuri on his fight mode is scary (not as much, but it is), just like his sister. I believe one of Endo's objectives is to make us scared of the Briar's brothers and damn, boy, yeah. I don't like that "I will kill everything on my way" expression.

This was such on point. I loved it, I mean, his floofing daughter is being raised by Yor, so I would consider it a huge plus. Besides, he is thinking of her consciously right now. It's not his unconscious, unknown feelings and thoughts. He is rationalizing and that's major.

Yeah, that resilience is not even NORMAL anymore. Mama Yor, can you pick me up? I'm scared 😨

Oh, well, okay, that's expected. Poor Yuri is going to be so hurt after this. I'm wondering if Yor will know about his or Twilight's injuries, she is not as bright as his brother, but she can think about it later, can't she? I wonder If Yuri will visit her while recovering. The tension in the air if Loid is also on this meeting. Damn. This was so much better than a revelation or a simply hurt Twilight. This growing tension makes things so much better (and torturing).

He is such a good brother.

And this expression right here is a Twilight on Twilight Conflicted Mode. Yeah, I just made that up, but he is clearly conflicted, may be in pain and not getting understanding a single thought coming from his mind. Only focused on getting out of there, leaving that behind.

Okay, from this part on I understood ✨ nothing ✨

My reasoning is not that nice and I should be sleeping right now, but I can't due to anxiety, so bear with me, please.

Yes, it did! WISE is the best, haha, wha-

Okay, she is also incredible smart, yada yada, I don't want to write about Fiona. Let's move on!

Damn, folks. Theories? My brain is jello. I can't even function due to the last of sleep, but here I am. Make sure to talk to me in the comments, I really appreciate it. Sorry for any misspelling or typos. Be sure to leave a beautiful kudo and talk to me about what you think will happen next!

I'm certainly less nervous about it, our last chapter was very open to where this one would go, and I'm glad of two things, mainly

No time skip! It started right where it was left.

Our boys are fine! Yuri will be fine. Thank you, Endo!

I miss our girls so much, and Bond boy! 😭

[jongseongsnudes]

Let me tell you that I am in L O V E with your enha universe series! I have re read it over many times and wonder what the boys's kinks would be? I know it's random but it keeps coming to mind eg.. I think Hoonie's stepbro character would be into choking? I want to know what your thoughts are! Keep up the good work! <3

🥺🥺🥺❤️ thank you so much!

ive never really thought about their kinks in the stories so this will be interesting!! loooong fun answer ahead 😏 (also im not too familiar with many kinks so i will only list a few!)

(all gifs are mine!)

sooooo for heeseung’s character, he definitely has a corruption kink NO FUCKING DOUBT (it’ll show more when i post “first impressions” for his story). from day one, he has always enjoyed encouraging little, innocent you into doing naughty things (like when you sucked him off in the backyard at the party). the idea of being your first for anything sexual, turns him on so much. like no other person has touched you, seen you in ways he has or made you feel the way he makes you feel before. god, that fact gives him an INSTANT boner. size kink is another definite one. man is HUGE and enjoys dominating you all the time 👌👌👌 hugging, cuddling, sleeping, spooning, fucking. no matter when or where, mr lee just LOVES seeing how small you are compared to him. how his big arms could so easily hold you up as he’s fucking you against the wall. or how he could easily hold you down with just one hand around your neck 😏. one last kink. i’m going to say... breeding. 👀👀👀👀

for sunghoon’s character, he does seem to be into choking. it’s probably because he enjoys displaying his power/dominance over people because clearly, he is a man with a lot of power. he’d love to wrap his fingers around your neck and watch you struggle as he fucks you into the bed, his lips against your ear, whispering degrading words into them. so i guess he also has a very slight degradation kink. “you’re such a dirty slut for me.” “only for me.” this man is quite possessive as well + his tsundere personality means that you’ll be denied an orgasm quite often, especially when he’s having a jealous fit or when he’s unhappy with you. so he probably has a slight thing for orgasm denial? he’d make you beg for a release. to say please like he was your owner. to have you do whatever he wants you to do. in conclusion, your step brother just wants you to himself. all of you.😏

omg. jake sim is wild. he’s a fuck boy and definitely a kinky motherfucker. similar to heeseung, jake also has a big corruption kink. he knows damn well that you’re a good girl, who hasn’t experienced much sexually (complete opposite with him lol) so the thought of having you do naughty things under his COMPLETE control turns him on so much. he’ll teach you so, so many things. role play, bondage, toys. the whole lot. but what will drive this man even crazier is if you called him daddy. mans got a daddy kink for sure, especially if the word is coming out of your mouth. that’s literally his weak spot. though he won’t admit it, jake has a huge soft spot for oh-so-innocent you. we all know that he fucks around quite a bit but all you need to do is look at him with your pretty, doll like eyes... and jake simp will drop all his bitches for you in an instant. add in “please daddy?” and man will be on his knees for you 🤭 (obviously will be more evident later on in the story!)

and lastly mr park jay. our boss man. this man may not speak much but DEFINITELY has some kinks. like voyeurism. he probably observes you in secret, especially on days when you’re wearing shorts skirts or a deep neck top perhaps 😏 at some point later on in his story, he’ll have you spread out on the bed and instruct you to use the toys (that he purchased for you 🙊) on yourself while he watches 👀. he most likely has a sir kink as well. hell yesssssss. he’ll lose control and fuck you so hard every time you’d call him sir during sex. especially on days where he’s super stressed and you walk into his office... calling him sir... oh good riddance. the man is going to slam you against his expensive table, bunch your skirt up, rip open your blouse and of course, tie your hands behind your back with his tie before FUCKING YOU RAW 🤭🤭🤭 i guess he also has a slight bondage kink too because he just loves tying your wrists with his ties and belts. it turns him on so much when he sees you restrained and struggling beneath him, your pretty eyes slightly watery while taking his thrusts like the good girl that you are for him 🙃

i got carried away with jay’s one lmao but that was definitely fun to write! 🥰

- @jongseongsnudes​