#roman x tasha

[muntitled]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

Lukas Matsson x Fem!Reader | Kendall Roy x Fem!reader

Summary: Kendall had always been a competent, steady boyfriend, but there is always, always room for improvement.

Warnings: Language, Politics, Business, Cheating, Mentions of murder, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, CNC, Rough Sex, choking, degradation, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamics. Roman as his own warning.

I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.

Due to your perilous schedule as a political and public figure, arguing with your lover had never really made it past scheduling in the smorgasbord of your career. Perhaps that is why Kendall decided to pick unnecessary fights in the middle of a Swedish trip. He felt, and rightfully so, infinitesimally insignificant when compared to the hellscape that is your established career in the American political sphere.

You can see it in the way his broad shoulders hunch slightly, the way his larger lower lip protrudes into a petulant pout.

You're appalled.

"Kendall, you can't be fucking serious," Your first night on Matsson's retreat was scheduled to be filled with myriad orgasms in myriad uncanny positions. You and Kendall should be christening this luxury suite, but, instead you find your voice has climbed to ungodly octaves to a point that you feared you may shatter the glass wall that displayed the quiet Norwegian woods.

You couldn't give even half a shit as to whether others housed in adjoining tree-house suites might hear your furious bickering.

"You're a fucking child," he says lowly, desperately trying to regain control over the situation but only fumbling it by the second, "Do you know that?"

"No!" You exclaim, "Iverson and Sophie are!" He turns his back to you. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, "Those are your actual children, yeah!? When was the last fucking time you called them!? You're too busy measuring your dick against the Swedes- you're too busy to give Rava a fucking call."

"I have met plenty of selfish sociopaths in my day, Kendall, but this is unfathomable." His shadow falls over you like a second cloud in the already darkened suite's interior.

"Did she put you up to this?" He asks in that manic state of his with his hand pointed outward in condemnation of his most recent enemy.

"Are you aware that you have children together? You will know her for the rest of your life, are you aware of that?"

Kendall is quick to deflect, "Fuck! I can't catch a fucking break. Of course you run to my ex and- and- what? You fucking-meet up at Tasha's. Fucking talking about Kendall's cock-rings over your croissants."

You withhold the urge to laugh by letting a wave of fury wash over you anew. "You didn't even tell them their grandfather died before you dragged us out to fucking Norway, Kendall! That's unhinged! You're unhinged!"

"I'm perfectly hinged!" He says, turning away from you, pyjama pants billowing as he grabs his keys and a pack of cigarettes, "I'm like the doors on fucking Downing street, motherfucker," He speaks lowly. Voice simmering. "I'm fucking hinged."

The door slams with finality, leaving you clinging to your robe in front of a backdrop full of trees.

There's a deeply sated sigh that leaves your throat as you haul yourself over the Egyptian linen sheets. Fighting with Kendall had always been an impossible feat- something akin to yelling obscenities at a brick wall smeared with cocaine, but it always left you marginally satisfied after. A part of you felt like you might be saving him.

There is a frown, slight and not at all visible in the low evening light, drifting across your face as you stare down at yourself with disappointment and a hint of disapproval. Kendall was supposed to rip this robe right off you the second you got out of the shower. But, instead, you find yourself turning on your side, staring at the pines beyond the glass.

The sound of the door clicking open, ruins the serenity that had begun to settle.

"I for sure thought you'd gone and blown your head off for real this time, Ken." You mumble monotonously while staring ahead at the glass.

"While all these hungry vultures at my retreat does make me lean into the sound of suicide, I quite enjoy living."

You're quick to pull your unravelled rope across your frame as you sit up against the oak headboard.

"Not Kendall." He says.

Matsson towers enough to hunch slightly and disrupt the flow of the sleek, vertical finishes.

"Why are you here?"

"Well it is my retreat."

He smiles. Or at least you believe that he believes he is smiling. Sharks can't smile, you don't think.

"My house."

Lukas shoves his hands in pockets as he continues to stare at you. His disciplined eyes never stray or drift across your exposed legs, they never gloss over your deadly grip on the tightened robe digging into the plushness across your middle.

He's staring at you. Eyes boring into eyes.

"I've come to deliver a noise complaint."

"Consider it delivered."

He does not leave. Instead, he delves deeper into your space, the space shared with your boyfriend. You watch carefully as Matsson plants himself on the edge of the bed. There is an air of nervousness that bristles throughout the Norwegian woods as he brings one leg up to cross the other. You watch, entranced by how the soft Tom Ford sweatpants crease slightly under his fluid movements. His beige Balenciaga shirt sits comfortably and it elicits a sense of control as he makes himself comfortable in front of you.

The one thing you could never allow yourself to be was intimidated, and intimidation is all you heard from the mouths that affirmed this man. However, the subtle yet suffocating label whoring, the designer sandals…

He was just another man, suffocated by the weight of his own money. He had everything to prove. That gave you control.

"I didn't know when Kendall brought me on this trip that I was to be subjected to an invasion of privacy,"

"I heard you the first time," He says, chuckling in complete condescension, "I am aware you're here with Kendall. You don't have to bring him up the whole fucking time."

"Are you here under work pretences then? I'm not involved in the hellscape that is ATN, nor the Nazi wonderland that is Waystar so I would make a lousy spy."

"I know who you are," his eyes dart away, giving you enough time to break slightly, take heavier breaths and compose yourself, "I've seen the work you are… attempting to accomplish in that flaccid dick of a country," His gaze is back on you, "And while I do applaud you, politics bores me. You're all fucked anyway, I just came here to enquire if you would like to have sex with me?"

The manner in which he says those words, so calmly and succinctly, has you praying for another moment of regeneration while he darts his eyes away.

"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"

"In addition to the noise complaint, I would like to sleep with you, yes."

You're practically suffocted with the over abundance of choice. Matsson would be a fun and interesting side project for you to sink your claws into and manipulate with the added advantage of sex.

But there is a darkness lurking behind this man's gaze that promises far too much risk with little to no reward.

"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for stopping by, Lukas. It was certainly not a pleasure talking to you-"

You speak calmly, shuffling off the bed so you can escort him to the door. "Please find yourself outside of my personal and habitual space kindly and quickly-" but the axis tilts, and he does a daring thing by encircling a strong grip on your forearm. You try to lurch your arm out of his iron grip but it's fucking sealed around you like a constricting python. The darkness seems so incredibly poignant. God, all this man holds is darkness.

"I did not ask for myself." He says with a hint of condescension, "I asked for you." Matsson has you locked between his spindly legs while your robe billows open. Your face warms as you feel coolness settle against your exposed stomach but Lukas' eyes never leave your own.

From this angle, there is no chance to look away. Everything is maximised, from the wrinkles running like river channels underneath his bright blue eyes to the slight overbite in his teeth, perhaps his only external flaw.

What a dangerous individual.

"They're Roys." Lukas says, "He's a Roy," You suddenly feel juvenile and bashful, as you take the scolding, "You should know better,"

You're only vaguely aware that the distance between you two has been lessening because the air feels warmer. His breath is mixing with yours and his hand is doing a funny little dance along your forearm. "You should know better," He says.

And perhaps you should have closed the distance, perhaps you should have chased him away. You certainly should not have waited for a pair of irregular footsteps approaching to finally push the lumbering man away from you. Thankfully, he kindly obliged although Matsson's hand stalled, still rubbing against your elbow when Kendall stumbles in.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is he doing here?" Kendall's eyes are tired and bloodshot and you step away from Lukas' gravitational pull as you curl into Kendall's side. Kendall's suede Versace jacket is cool but his skin is warm as you burrow into the side of his neck. Your guilt worsens as you feel Kendall's arm curl around your waist.

You speak into Kendall's ear, loud enough for Lukas to hear, "Matsson is still trying to rape your company, I'm afraid. " You say with a lazy smile.

"Already raped," Says Lukas, shuffling passed the two of you, "Logan was the decision maker, remember?"

Before the man finds himself over the threshold, Kendall speaks up.

"Hey, no more private visits, yeah? Not cool."

You watch with bated breath as Matsson only cracks a toothy lopsided grin before tapping the wood of the doorframe and disappearing.

That evening had ended, like most of the evenings to come, with angry, jealousy-fueled sex. There had always been a distinct animosity between Kendall and Matsson but whatever had been in the air seemed to triple. Kendall kept you close during the entire experience. He kept you under Kremlin-level surveillance but he couldn't be with you all the time. In the moments you found yourself without Kendall, Matsson would appear from out of the shadows like a demon, slinking behind you with a hand ghosting your hip. He watched you from above the rim of whiskey-filled tumblers and even asked for your input whenever conversation within the group got a little political. One such conversation had the unfortunate interjection of one Roman Roy, who saw you as another toy in his toy box.

"What do you need two assistants for anyway?" The grinding of your teeth come to a deafening halt as you turn your head to face the youngest Roy. The smile on your face is amicable, some might even call it polite, but it is a well enough facade veneering the tempest brewing beneath.

"What- does Jess hold your balls while you tell knock-off Maya Angelou here" He points to you, "-to bend her head and suck?"

There were a number of things you simply allowed when it came to your courtship with Kendall Roy. You would even shame yourself into admitting that you might have found Kendall's overall emotional incompetence and dysfunctional family quite endearing in the beginning. But, like every magnificent, spine curling orgasm, the magic ebbed away quickly and soon, you were left with nothing but the wetness of his cum, cooling between your thighs.

That is what Kendall and his siblings were like most times.

Cooling, diabolical cum.

"Rome, come on." And therein lay Kendall's consistent, valeant response, of which he chose to defend you.

Rome. Come on.

Simply hearing those words leave his brother's mouth with even the faintest hint of disapproval sent Roman into a frenzy (you could see his pupils dilating and his cock hardening from your spot on a couch adjacent to Roman and Shiv). Matsson's entire foyer was set alight with amicable, drunken murmurs, of which Greg's nervous whimpers were occasionally heard peppered in.

Tom had retired to bed, (whether that would be in the same suite as Shiv, would be a satisfactory cup of tea you would divulge with your girlfriends later.) Matsson and his followers sat in their own private harem in a corner beside you.

"What?" Roman cries, slamming back a handful of ground nuts (an admittedly clever substitute for Swedish alcohol) "I was just asking a question. I know your people like to claim reparations for a lot of shit these days but I'm sure enquiring about the girl my big brother's fucking doesn't equate to slavery."

Although you hated the little demon with every bright blue blood cell running through your arteries, you did admire the sure-fire way he would spit his hateful vitriol.

"I appreciate the faux-concern, Roman." You keep it curt, cute and even forgiving, hoping he might take the win and leave you to down the last of your Hennessey in peace.

"That's your cue," Kendall announces, "Drop it."

"Look at how wet she's getting from my rich white brother finally using his voice to defend her for once." The conversation between the Swedes had long since ceased and your throat clogs as the music tins through hidden speakers. "Kenny so clearly has a type," Says Roman, now facing his brother with his elbows steepled on his knee. "I bet you couldn't wait to dive into that plethora of liberal pussy, could you, big brother?"

Your patience had long since snapped and your words are flying before you could stop them, "Considering you couldn't even get pussy without catching a rape charge or an incredibly disappointed prostitute, I'll assume this pseudo-incest interest you have in Kendall's sex life is normal,"

Roman only laughs, "No amount of sick burns is going to release you from the fact that your fucking a crackhead. Maybe it's the money," he taps the bottom of chin in a flamboyant display of consideration, "Although if it's raping our company that's your main goal, the Swedes might have you beat." Matsson straightens in your periphery, not by a lot but by enough to have a stoney smile cracking across your face.

"ATN is not my vice. Racist Propaganda doesn't get me as wet as it gets you, Roman."

"How convenient. I thought all Leftys held special orgys dedicated to besmirching racist propoganda."

Your response was already loaded in the back of your throat, aimed and ready to fire at Roman with reckless abandon. If it weren't for Lukas' interjection, you would have hoped to leave the little man bleeding all over Matsson's marble floors.

"You let him talk to your woman like that?" The rest of the party had left this specific ring of people behind, but that seemed okay. Everyone within the circle, the important people, were silent as Matsson turned his attention to a floundering Kendall.

"Maybe worry about your situation over there and I'll worry about mine."

"I'm not worried." Says Lukas, with a fierce stoicism that was so unique to him. Your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly as the couch groans while Lukas begins to rise. His friends each hold knowing smiles. Hungry smiles.

"Would you like to know why I'm not worried?" Asks Lukas, advancing with a slow gait. You turn your head just in time to watch Kendall's Adam's apple against his throat. He was speechless as per usual when the discussion didn't involve drugs or stock prices.

"Ask." Says Lukas as he advances. "Ask me why I'm not worried."

Upon you first meeting, you had found Lukas' height to be quite rude and unbecoming. You expected him to duck down, almost out of courtesy for the rest of the world laying low underneath him. As his shadow falls over you and Kendall, you find yourself grateful for this giant man making your boyfriend feel small for once- almost as small as you were made to feel around the Roys.

"Why aren't you worried?" Kendall's voice is still masked with confidence as he peers up at Matsson.

Matsson, who's teeth glint in the low evening light, like a hungry shark. He bends down low. You move slightly out of the way as he whispers into Kendall's ear.

"Because I'm gonna fuck her, okay?"

Absolute silence grows pregnant between the two and you're left to do nothing but watch as the exchange unfolds and Kendall's perceived control over everything and everyone unravels. His mouth opens and closes slightly while Matsson watches with a sadistic sort of pleasure in his eye…

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing," Says Lukas, having returned to his full height. "I didn't say anything. I just asked your-" His blue eyes darts to you and back, "-friend, if she'd like to see my bookshelf in the living room. I saw her reading Bronte earlier," Matsson shrugs, "Thought I might extend the invitation."

Lukas is not one to wait for confirmation, nor is he a man that waits for validation. He shuffles out his foyer, quite comfortably leaving present company behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. No rebuttal from Kendall needed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? What are you doing?" You lift yourself from the couch, ironing out the invisible creases on your plaid Chanel skirt as your eyes dart to Roman, now in idle conversation with Siobhan.

"They're just books, Kendall." You sigh softly. "You can't honestly believe I'd be any safer here." You deliver one final gaze at his lesser appealing siblings before following Matsson out of the foyer. The amount of people congesting the dark corridors lessen as you venture further into Matsson's abode. The walls are built with a dark, heavily sanded stone. Something casting a very ominous, yet unmistakably earthy glow throughout the corridor as the mouth spills into a large and defining living room. The colours are dark. The coal walls are all encompassing and Matsson stands beside a low leather couch, waiting rather awkwardly for your arrival.

"There is no library or bookshelf." He says with his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his sweats.

"I figured. You strike me as someone that would keep all their books stored on some gadget."

"Technology and leisure are the two civilizers of man," He says, watching you with bated breath as you slink around his living room, eyeing but never once prodding his things.

"Don't misquote Disraeli, it's not very attractive."

Matsson seems to relax at that, opting to take a step closer to you as he speaks, "I'll misquote Disraeli as much as I want. The 'increased means and increased leisure' part seems a little far-fetched." Your heart begins to hammer in your chance at the advancing man and you turn, whether out of cowardice or bashfulness, choosing rather to examine the sculpture along his mantle.

Your back begins to straightens as warmth radiates from him. He does not move but he cages you in. You would not be able to leave his sphere even if you wanted to.

"We don't have to fuck, obviously. It just didn't seem safe for you to stay in that situation."

You turn slowly and you find yourself slightly jarred by Matsson's proximity. His turtleneck hugs a string and definite build and the hunger in his eyes melts all inhibitions.

"I don't need saving."

"I'm talking about the little angry man." He says, referring to Roman. "I've seen your debates. It's the little nugget of American politics I find myself quite entertained by and I have no desire to wipe a Roy's blood off my floors this evening."

His words end up snapping any and all inhibition as you're throwing yourself quite mercilessly at him. The kiss is silent but so inexplicably charged allowing you to bump into various pieces of furniture in the process of pushing you up against the nearest stone wall. A wall that is cold to the touch, eliciting a surprised gasp which fuels Lukas all the more. He displays wet slobbering kisses down the nape of your neck as he murmurs drunkenly in your ear.

"I like seeing you like this. I like seeing you among my things." The conviction present in his gravelly vibrato has a pool of wetness gathering in between your legs. Your arm circles around his broad back until your pulling, rather roughly at the blonde hair curling at the nape of neck. This had consequently been a morbid mistake because his grip travels to your throat lightning fast, compressing a dangerous weight on your oesophagus as he rips his lips away from your throat.

"You don't get to do that," he says far too casually. "You don't get to assume control when you are here in my house with my things."

Matsson keeps his eye trained on you but your focus in compounded, solely, on his wandering hand tracing the hem of your skirt. "Hey, hey, hey." As you strive to keep watch of his wandering hand, Matsson moves his head into your line of vision.

"My things. Yeah? You're apart of that now."

As his hand inches underneath your skirt you're suddenly flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotions - fear being the most poignant and defining one.

"I don't want to do this anymore-" You're not sure whether you mean it or not but you're quite certain that Matsson doesn't care. You're suddenly truly aware that you had released something you don't really know how to control.

"Bullshit, you don't want to do this anymore." You finally feel his hand sliding into your panties and your legs wavers underneath you, "Your words say stupid shit," Sings Lukas as his fingers ghost over your swollen clothes, "But your cunt just can't seem to lie." His grip on your throat tightens before relaxing as he brings your head up to his lips. "You're fucking soaked."

"I'll fucking sue you," Although you're unable to assume a single confident tone as his fingers begin to play with your cunt, "I'll fucking take you to court for fucking assault, motherfucker."

"You wanna call Kendall for assistance?" He asks, slyly pushing his middle finger deep inside you with no regard for your strangled gasp. "Here, let's call him together. Say 'Kendall!'"

The only thing able to leave your mouth is a straggled moan as Matsson keeps you pinned to the wall by the throat. The sound of your voice - so incoherent and helpless has him evading any sliver of decency he might have had. "Fuck, you're so perfect." He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before spinning you around until he is sandwiched between your body and the wall. "I have to fuck you."

"Watch the door for me," he says, pulling your hips right up against the bulge in his pants. "Watch just in case Kendall, shows up. Right, sweet girl?"

You're nodding dumbly as Lukas hunches his tall frame while grinding his bulge into your backside. He has your skirt lifted, and his shadow casted over you as he murmurs diabolical things into your ear.

"God, you're a fucking slut, you're such a fucking slut." He keeps a grip on your throat while the unoccupied hand reaches around to lift your shirt haphazardly, "No amount of smart ass comments will ever hide the fact that you're just another whore." The casual air with which he degrades has you simultaneously humping the air while you push back against his bulge. It is in that moment when he finally decides to release his aching cock from his sweatpants dotted with precum.

"Jesus Christ, feel how hard you made me. Feel how fucking turned on I am just because you decided to be a stupid slut." You can feel the head of his cock pressing into you until you're unable to hold in the desperation.

"Jesus- Lukas!"

"What? You want me to fuck you? I think you want me to fuck you but I'm not sure." You're unsure of what he's asking, too blinded by the possibility of a carefully curated orgasm.

"Go on." He says, "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck your pussy while your boyfriend waits just downstairs."

There are tears pooling in your eyes at the sheer lewdness and the unapologetic quality of this betrayal, but your mouth opens and soon, you're shakily crying out. "Please just fuck me, Lukas."

His cock rams into you with a surety that leaves you winded. He seems as if his patience had been waning as well, what with the haggard sigh that leaves his throat and the numerous disquiet groans that float in the air. Despite yourself, you do keep a half-lidded gaze on the entrance, not put off, but rather spurred on with the possibility of your boyfriend finding you being railed by his latest rival. The thought alone has you clenching around Lukas' cock with your orgasm cresting.

"Whatever you're thinking about, I'm going to need you to think about it again- you're so fucking tight."

There's an animalistic quality to the sex- being bent over for him while he rests against a wall, a firm grip on your throats and your tits as he rams himself into you again and again.

It's far too much.

You wouldn't think there was something so ruthless hiding underneath such a calm veneer but that's all it is. All it always had been. A veneer.

"You're not with him anymore, do you hear me?"

"Fuck- Lukas I'm gonna cum soon," his grip on your throat tightens until it vacuums out any and all air. Your hand encircles his wrist, begging for release but to no avail.

"Tell me," he says as he continues to fuck mercilessly into you, "Tell me you don't belong to him." He finally gives you lee-way to talk and you're gasping out your response, "I don't. I don't belong to him," he nods slightly, brows firing as he bites into your shoulders.

"Fuck- I didn't plan to cum inside you-"

"I don't fucking care- I'm really close." Lukas nods quickly before releasing your neck to drag your cheek until your faces are pressed together in a smouldering kiss. "Fuck I'm gonna cum inside you-"

His words already have you diving headfirst into a groundbreaking orgasm. You're crying out helplessly, until Matsson has enough sense to cover your mouth with one large hand. He fucks you through it, filling you with cum as he groans just as loudly as you had been.

"Fuck," he chuckles quietly, "Kendall is not going to like that."

"Kendall," You breath heavily, safely contained in Lukas' comforting grip, "Is not my Keeper."

Lukas delivers a chaste kiss on your cheek, his stubble grazing against the side of your face.

"I plan on killing them anyway." He says, simultaneously unaware and aware that he's drifting into pillowtalk.

"Every last one of them."

[behold-the-brave-battalion-17]

Introduction post because I should have done this a long time ago but didn’t have time!

Hello, everyone! My name is Davey. I am bi, genderfluid, asexual, and demiromantic, and my pronouns are they/them (most of the time). This page will mostly be for incorrect quotes from my favorite fandoms, but occasionally I’ll post some headcanons as well.

Said fandoms are:

Newsies

We Are The Tigers

Grease (specifically the stage musical)

The Mad Ones

Mary Poppins Returns

Chicago (musical)

Heartstopper

Solitaire

West Side Story

Haunting of Hill House (the book, not the show)

Sanders Sides

Be More Chill

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series

Ride the Cyclone

Oh, and also, this page is going to have a LOT of ship content. So here are my ships:

Newsies: Jack x Davey, Sniper x Smalls, Race x Spot, Sarah x Katherine

We Are The Tigers: Kate x Chess, Cairo x Riley, Kate x Eva, Annleigh x Cairo, Mattie x Tasha, Annleigh x Clark

Grease: Danny x Doody, Kathy x Sandy, Roger (Putzie) x Jan

The Mad Ones: Sam x Kelly

Mary Poppins Returns: Jack x Jane, Michael x Kate

Chicago: Roxie x Velma

Heartstopper/Solitaire: All the canon ships, but mainly Michael x Tori

Haunting of Hill House: Eleanor x Theodora (I promise I’m not a proshipper, they’re not siblings in the book- the book and the show are two drastically different stories.)

Sanders Sides: Patton x Janus, Roman x Logan, Roman x Virgil

Be More Chill: Michael x Jeremy x Christine

HSMTMTS: Seb x Carlos, Miss Jenn x Mr. Mazzara, Gina x EJ, Ashlyn x Nini, Maddox x Ashlyn, Gina x Maddox, Ashlyn x Big Red (what a wonderful day to be a multishipper, am I right)

Ride the Cyclone: Jane x Ricky, Mischa x Noel, Mischa x Talia, Noel x Ricky

[moodywyrm]

man why do minors not listen to blogs that have mdni in them !! if you are a minor , you shouldnt be on a nsfw blog ,,, or any blog that doesnt allow minors for that matter !! i dont think you should generally have a tumblr either ?? unless you dont post/post minimally w no way for people to find you irl ?? its generally just unsafe !!

and dwdw , i generally dont either , its the only book i had available that wouldnt be a reread ! and its short so i figured why not !:) im more of a fantasy or queer book kind of gal , i loveeee that kind of stuff , i gobble it up everytime. or greek/roman/norse myth stuff !! yummy. delicious. im kinda just a sucker for books in general im ngl ,, i just love reading :) any books u like id love to check out , i genuinely just need something to read because i dislike rereading a LOT for some reason ?

(um unless its the miraculous journey of edward tulane , in which case i have read it a collective of 20 times and can recite it very well from memory because it was my fav book as a kid LMAO)

-🧸

ok hello I'm feeling better now so I can answer this!!

no seriously why do they still pop up here. we're not trying to like ruin their fun or be grumpy adults or whatever they think it is, we're trying to stop them from 1) making the same mistakes a lot of us made as kids 2) getting us in trouble because we can get in trouble for that shit. also it's so uncomfortable?

also fantasy and queer books!! now that I can give!! if ur down to read sci-fi, Gideon the Ninth is fucking incredible. Lesbian necromancers in space exploring a potentially haunted castle. what more can I say. also hot butch lesbian x grumpy lady with the energy of that one cat in the horseman of death meme. the spindly black one, ya know? one I really wanna read but can't yet (bc I can't buy books this year </3) is clytemnestra by costanza casati. oh!! I really wanna read the jasmine throne by Tasha suri, it's sapphic Indian fantasy, literally one of the first books I'm gonna buy when I can buy books again.

I like rereading books but it takes a while for me to do it! audiobooks however? I cannot count how many times I've listened to the audiobook for Red White and Royal Blue and One Last Stop. I love Casey MCQuiston y'all.

[fallenesspoetry]

Venus and the Wolf (A Blindspot AU)

Summary:

A Roman/Tasha AU story, in which Jane’s memory hasn’t been wiped yet. Instead, she’s missing and presumed dead after the Orion mission had been taken down. A story, in which Roman makes a different decision, and a story, in which Tasha already is an undercover agent for the CIA, posing as an identity dealer.

It’s based on the scene in 2/17 when Roman remembers staring at Alice’s name at the papers for the trust fund (with the bank in the Bahamas) he was asked to cash out, sobbing.

A collab with @eachdressiown (Roman), I'm writing Tasha's POV.

Warning: Swearing.

Chapter Two “A Venus on Ice”

The heat was unbearably stifling, literally crunching on the tip of the tongue, its gritty taste rolling in the mouth. The sky was cloudless, and the sun shone in its full force, leaving no chance for the weather to change into something more humid.

A young woman stretched herself in the chair, desperately wishing the heat to slacken at least for a tiny bit. Her day had just started, so she had, at best, ten hours to go. Or more, if it was a busy day. But it seemed some people were followed by a trouble, so every day had become a busy one quite too often.

Usually, the clientele started coming in ranting how fast they needed the things done and refusing to agree on the price. It never ceased to amaze her how ridiculously dumb most of the people were. No one could comprehend a simple truth:

If you want to get something, you need to give something in return.

It was as simple as that. You could bend the rules, break the laws, but in the end of the day there was always something you had to give up.

The woman clicked the remote, lowering the temperature on the AC, not really expecting it would help. Just as it hadn't helped at all for the past hour. Right now she wished nothing more than to sink into the icy cold bath.

Her outfit made her even more irritated: the white tank top was clinging to her body, and denim shorts almost itched the skin. Her dark straight hair was pinned at the back into a messy knot, a few loose strands tickling her wet neck from time to time. But she couldn't care less about appearing unprofessional.

Anyway, lots of her clients were often hanging by a thread, and judging by their you-are-my-last-hope looks, they could have been fine even if she were naked. She just needed to make them dissolve as if they had never existed.

There was something rough about this particular woman. One could say various tests at the FBI and later at the CIA had certainly left their mark on her: a fit and tough figure as well as outstanding marksman skills made her an invaluable asset for any kind of an op. Especially off-the-books ops.

It was no time though, when the untamable nature got the best of her. Soon enough she got sick of constantly getting under one's thumb and being dependent on someone's dirty secrets.

And so, here she was, in Bahamas, running a business — well, not exactly a business — but it was much better than slaving on one's behalf in the middle of nowhere, risking to be thrown away at the exact second the things went sideways.

Just as she came back with an ice cube taken from the fridge, now pressing its refreshing coldness to her neck, sliding it back and forth, the phone rang.

The number was unknown. Well, it didn't matter. She would answer it anyway.

“¡Hola, señorita! ¿Cómo estás?” cheerfully wondered a cheeky voice, with raspy softness to it, masked by a quite decent Spanish pronunciation. She immediately recognized it:

Richdotcom.

For the past few years she got used to this man's eccentric way of having a conversation. She had to, anyway, since they both had started off this small ‘enterprise’.

Together they developed an intricately sophisticated way of bypassing any kind of security measures allowing to craft a completely untraceable new identity for those in need.

Her business partner was the most skillful hacker of the century who breached dozens of secure and unbreachable systems. And she was the rogue CIA agent going off the radar.

“What's up, Rich?” the woman asked, sounding as nice and polite as she could. Actually, the time went by and she got to like him, but it didn't change the fact he was nothing but a pain in the ass.

“Cold as ever, huh, Toots?”

“I swear if you call me anything but Tasha…”

“Would you mind to keep going? I don't want that ice cube to be wasted,” completely ignoring her, leisurely said Rich, his voice getting silkier and raspier.

“What if my gun is accidentally stuck somewhere it doesn't belong? What do you say about that?”

“I'll say, I'm all game for a good gun-play.”

Un-fucking-believable!

Just as Tasha thought about it, Rich continued:

“As much as I like to chat with you, I actually have a job here.”

“Ok, shoot.”

“So, the lead came from a guy we both know, so it should be solid. Let me double-check real quick...”

Rich made a pause, and Tasha heard the drumming strokes followed by occasional ‘What the…’ and “You're fucking kidding me!”

Meanwhile, the ice cube between her fingers had melted into a liquid. It trickled down her neck to her cleavage, tickling her a bit. She put the phone on a speaker mode, and rose, walking to take another one or two.

The sun seemed to penetrate with its scorching fingers even though the closed curtains. It felt as if one was trapped in the microwave, which was getting hotter and hotter with every second.

The place once was a two-storied flower shop, but Tasha and Rich expanded it into a cozy two-bedroom apartment on the second floor, and the office on the first floor.

For all the nosy go-byers there was a sign that this building was currently on sale, but the price was so sky-high that soon enough no one even dared asking for an estimate. There were a lot of much more cheaper options, and soon enough everyone had just quit to come. Rich also made sure the mayor didn't bother them too. Rumors travelled fast, so only those who had an urgent matter of disappearing from the radars could find their way in here.

Despite the house had been mostly her office for seven days a week, 365 days a year, Tasha liked it. It reminded her a bit if her own apartment with its minimalistic decor, yet preserving the coziness she remembered since that time.

Finally, sounding extremely angry, Rich hissed through his teeth:

“We have a problem. A fucking serious problem.”

Tasha had never heard him talking like that. Hell, she couldn't even remember when it was the last time Rich got angry over something.

“What is it? It can't be that bad, can it?”

“I can't confirm this fucking passport. Not a single trace. It's a damn fake! A good fake, actually. It took me a lot of effort to crack it. It's as fake as the whore's...”

“Please, don't even… So what do we do?”

“‘We’ don't do anything. You, on the other hand, have to meet with this guy. Because according to our idiotic middleman, this fella is on his way to you.”

Tasha got used to different kinds of clients as some of them were either thugs or complete jerks. But this time her gut told her that the guy she was about to meet was a different story. And certainly, confident as hell.

We'll see about that, — thought Tasha to herself. Rich was still murmuring curses as he fiercely typed something. Soon her laptop dinged with a few emails.

“I hate to bring it up, but what if he's… Well, he gets here, sees the place. He could be anyone, you know. What do you want me to do then, Rich?”

To be honest, such things happened not too often, but happened. Just like at any job, there were some complications. And in her line of work, these complications acquired a physical embodiment. It wasn't foreign for Tasha to kill in cold blood and cover her tracks, but it had become very much tiresome.

“Listen, we've talked about this. I'm not a big fan of dead bodies. That's why you get your extra clean up fee, right?”

Well, it was true. Leaning back on the chair, stroking her neck and arms with the ice, she said:

“I'm hoping you're right. I'd really hate to stick to my gun-play promise.”

They said good-byes and hang up. Just as Tasha was checking her gun, she noticed it became dark outside.

Apparently, the sun had finally hid behind a thick set of clouds slowly floating by. The clouds seemed to stall and become filthy gray, but it wasn't raining yet.

But Tasha didn't have time to admire the view as rushed to hide the case boxes with files. Once she was done, she also cleaned any papers left on every shiny surface in the office. A few of her other guns had been also re-loaded, and sticked with tape under the table and the chair.

For obvious reasons there was no alarm, but a special self-destruction protocol and other security measures had been in place. All the files being deleted, one could remotely set the house on fire by provoking an electric circuit failure.

Satisfied with how well she had prepared for her 'guest', Tasha took a quick shower and changed into another pair of shorts and another tank top, this time black.

Just as she got back to her laptop to open the email from Rich, the doorbell rang.

She rose, hiding the gun behind her back, and walked to the door. Pausing for a second, the woman took a deep breath, put on a polite smile and turned the doorknob.

Tasha blinked, making sure it was real.

The man, probably in his early thirties, stood in the doorway, curving his lip in an undecipherable grin.

He perfectly blended in with the environment, wearing a pale-blue shirt, loosened the way one could notice a hard, defined six-pack, and a pair of light shorts as well as sneakers.

Once he saw the door opened, he idly took his cap and sunglasses off, meeting her with the keen gaze of his light brown eyes with a bit green to them. His oval face was slightly tanned, and he had a one-day bristle. Grinning, he looked like a well-fed cat, glowing with a smug satisfaction.

One thing was certain — this man was making her skin crawl. She had dealt before with the most unpleasant and, sometimes, very horrifying men. But he... He was different. The inner strength was emanating from him, though she wouldn’t say he was a typical 'muscle' type.

The stranger was a bit taller than her — almost six feet. His fit figure, wide shoulders and well-defined muscular arms indicated he was always on the move, letting his vigorous self free.

Tasha had an odd feeling she could have known him. But, of course, that wasn't true.

He had something vaguely familiar about him. Was it his roughness reminding Tasha of her own untamed nature? Or, perhaps, the lone wolf-like intense stare?

He kept himself at ease, but she felt he was putting up a show. No, it wasn't nerves — Tasha was sure he was pretty much confident about himself as such a man could be.

The thing was, she sensed this particular man had a bunch of very unpleasant reasons to hide behind this carefree mask.

Meanwhile, the guy was shamelessly checking her out, not even bothering she would notice it. Well, she was used to get dirty looks so it wasn’t a big deal. Those who dared to cross the line got a set of a painful punches resulting in a few broken ribs. This guy hadn’t crossed it yet, so he might enjoy himself while he still could.

Returning him a smile, Tasha noticed a long and thin scar on his cheek. The wound edges were rigid, as if someone was using a piece of glass to cut him. The scar made him look even more dangerous and somehow attractive.

Certainly, this guy was constantly alert, always aware of the situation, and if needed, he could struck swiftly and ruthlessly. His veined, skillful hands with spider-like fingers, lean and long, had told the story to anyone who had a keen eye — he was undoubtedly capable of killing someone, no weapon needed. And one hadn’t needed to guess what happened to the person leaving him with the scar.

At least he seems to know what he wants.

Because most of the time the clients coming in here were nothing but a hopeless whining pieces of shit. It felt good to meet a man like him for a change.

Something told her, things were going to get very interesting.

TBC

[hexblooded]

Four Weddings and a Funeral(?)

[onlydelly]

ok so my wish for a gerri x roman valentines day fic have been fulfilled. so now I'm hoping for some gerri x roman headcanons.just putting it out there.

[blindspot-repata]

High School Blindspot

Our dear and beloved characters from the Blindspot series are young and attending the same high school where they face challenges, overcome their fears and fall in love.

I hope this fanfic involves you just as it is involving me.

Characters from the Blindspot show of the American television network NBC.

_____________________________________________

This is just an outline of what the story will be like. I will post one chapter a week and it will probably be long chapters as all the characters will have a bow within the story.

Natasha - 17, is repeating the year at school, lives with two brothers and their grandparents, dating Ricky, is Edgar's best friend

Edgar - 17, lives with sister and widowed mother, is dating Sarah, Kurt's sister, he is Tasha’s friend, plays soccer, has college scholarship

Kurt - 18, lives with sister and father, overprotects his sister because she doesn't trust her father, is trying to scholar ship in a military career

Remi - 17, Roman's twin, recently arrived at school, likes dark clothes and is always serious and accompanied by her brother - lives with her brother and foster mother

Roman - 17, Jane's twin, recently arrived at school, loves to get into a fight - lives with her foster mother and brother

Patty - 16, nerd, is two years ahead of school for her intelligence, Natasha's friend who always gets her in trouble

Rich - 18, two years late at school, is a computer monitor because he understands a lot about the subject

Boston - 17, an art lover, lives an affair with Rich, but the two live fighting

Study in the same educational year:

Kurt, Edgar, Patty, Remi

Natasha, Roman, Rich, Boston

_____________________________________________

I know Remi and Roman are not twins in the original series, but here they will be.

I hope to meet readers' expectations with each chapter, and my expectations as well, hehehe.

[livgiosblog]

Patterson saving the day even when she’s in a coma 💪🏼❤️

[messerandme]

A beautiful view.

[crucif1x]

Blindspot meme:  Lepers Repel (2 X 22) as YouTube video titles

[thebiasrekkers]

No Words - Interlude ii-

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Type: Interlude [Flashback]

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: Mention of racism/ racist situation. 

A/N - It’s building up, please bear with this bit of backstory. I’m giving you a chance to refill your Namjesus juice. Cause the rest of the interlude is sex, pining, and just ...why are some folk so scared when it comes to love? An age-old question with no answer -.-

Words:  2073

----

1 year ago.

“I don’t know if I can keep this up.” Tasha moaned as they filed into the dorm. A scattered sound of backpacks, shoes, and coats filled a thick silence. They were one year into a grueling schedule of hands-on work along with a heavy course load. Tasha’s pillow-muffled grunts were an everyday occurrence. The same thing - every day. They went out for language study, then to shadow the technical crew, and then hours at cafes guzzling coffee.

She could tell there were bags under her eyes. Tasha flopped like a fish on the couch. Her brows rose as the other woman moaned her displeasure. “I can’t take it?! I want to go out! We should go out, damnit!”

Tasha already saw the reluctance forming on her face. “No, no! Listen here!” She bumbled off the couch at her recoil. “No, come on! Please, I’m dying! We haven’t done anything besides work. We have to take a breather.” Tasha grabbed her hands as she grimaced.

“Aish,” Tasha smirked. She dropped her head. “You’re not gonna let this go are you?” Tasha shook her head vigorously with a pout. “Tsk, fine.” The other woman shot up with a twirl.

“You loovvvee me.” A sing-song tease as Tasha twirled down the hall toward her room. “And now I’m not going to be a liar, either.”

“Wait, what?” She turned toward the hallway.

“Well, the gang is getting together for post-production celebration.” She narrowed her eyes as Tasha continued. “..you never seem to be interested. So I told them I’d get you to come out tonight.”

“Seriously?” The edge of irritation was impossible to hide.

“Woman, I get you want to be the best - but you need to take a moment to enjoy yourself. We’re building a blueprint here! It does no good to you, or anybody, if you burn the fuck out.” Tasha came half-stomping back to the front room. Her hands were tucked into her hips with a stern set to her face. “I mean it. We have this opportunity to get immersed in everything. If you drag me to another museum I’m going to riot.”

Maybe Tasha had a point. She had been mainly interested in the informational portion of their trip. Museums, lectures, visiting heritage sites - taking photos of seemingly mundane things. She wanted a simple experience, there was nothing wrong with that. But, even back in the states? She wasn’t much for nightlife. Even after BTS music show wrap gatherings? She could be found off to the side buried in a book. Sometimes pouring over note cards and notebooks. It was fascinating the cinematographic techniques were completely different from the states. It was more aesthetically pleasing, the quality of the music shows could bring some fresh air to videos in the states.

She came off as a bit of a lone wolf, and that wasn’t exactly her intention. Tasha would disturb her studies to drag her to tables full of meat, smoke, and laughter. She was happy to listen to horror stories and near misses. It was almost becoming tolerable to be near the boys on an almost constant basis.

Almost.

Tasha was eating it up, especially when they had the place to themselves. There would be peals of laughter as folk tumbled from chairs. Ah, the soju flow was heavy. She didn’t mind pouring for them or manning the grill when people got too far gone. There were always moments in karaoke, jokes, and games.

She decided to indulge a bit still trying to figure out the right soju combination. The regular soju was smooth, different brands tended to be harsher than others. It wasn’t until out with the full crew that Taehyung offered a fruity brand. She went through the whole range before landing on Peach. She always cut her alcohol with something and it just so happened that cider matched perfectly.

For her, anyway. It was a ‘carbonation thing’ - that was always her response. They were having a great time, honestly. You could even say she let her hair down a bit. And she kept it up, for a good moment, she blossomed socially. Tasha was an absolute extrovert to start - she had no problem suggesting risky and risque games to liven up the place.

There was a time when those games wound up a little too dangerous for her liking. Spin the bottle and Truth or Dare. Harmless, right? This combination with overworked, tipsy co-workers? Not so much. Liquor makes you honest, the saying goes.

There was a time when those games wound up a little too dangerous for her liking. Spin the bottle and Truth or Dare. Harmless, right? This combination with overworked, tipsy co-workers? Not so much. Liquor makes you honest, the saying goes.

Some people got extremely honest that night.

Now, it was no secret that they were apart of the handful of females that made the cut for the program. But they were the only African-American females. It was interesting the stares they received when they were seen backstage manning the boards, or even carrying equipment. It was something they were used to, and it didn’t bother them.

They considered themselves open to any and all questioning, again - in a new place? You learn things about yourself. And it’s only fair that you let others learn you as well. Right?

So, when a particularly soju soaked night of bullshitting turned into something a bit more raw and personal?

“Oh, come on! Is it really that big a deal?” One of her classmates quipped. There was an uncomfortable air surrounding the table. “I mean, it’s like kindergarten antics, you know?” Dean was your playbook styled …individual. She wouldn’t bother to call him a man because he didn’t act like one.

The Truth or Dare was stuttered when he asked a question that only the two women of color could answer. Tasha was actually settled on the lap of a TD she’d gotten close with, Minjae. They all received training on sensitive things while touring in the states. Current issues that plagued the US so they could stay aware of possible questions or situations the boys could find themselves in.

Tasha tried to lighten the mood waving her hand, “Look, it’s just safe to ask, Dean. I don’t think you’d want some strange person coming to feel you up without your permission.” This softly as Minjae gently shook his head at her, as if to signal her to switch topics.

Dean sighed, turning to a couple of the other classmates, trying to find some validation. They sort of shrugged, but read the room and didn’t bother to indulge him. It wasn’t until he turned to her with that lopsided grin. “I mean, look at you! I always thought you had contacts in. Imagine when we found that was your real eye color!” He barked a laugh, a few of the ‘we’ laughed with him.

“I mean, you’re beautiful for a bl-” There was a female next to him named Allison. She watched with her mouth agape as he continued. Before he finished that statement? She elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t you fucking dare finish that statement, Dean!” He buckled with a sharp inhale. He looked confused as he measured the looks of disapproval.

Embarrassment.

Before she dared to open her mouth and let every obscenity fly, they all turned to their supervisors. The head PD crossed his arms across his chest, matching the red-faced anger of his colleagues. “This was a mistake.” She stood up hastily grabbing her bag and her notebook. Tasha tried to untangle herself from the bench seating but wasn’t fast enough. She escaped into the night gulping down the winter air. Ah, it was so mild. She was used to the painful cold Midwest winters, and she missed it.

Damn, she really missed it. She’d been doing so well! She managed to stave off the homesickness, determined to find a niche. But now? Now she craved a familiarity, a comfort that she hadn’t found? She wasn’t really looking for it, honestly. She’d heard the rumors, done the research, and seen all the YouTube videos. There was a deep groan bubbling in her chest; the heel of her palm digging into her eye sockets.

Deep breaths slowed her rapid heart, snow fell soft and slow on her face. She could almost picture something like home. But a voice interrupted her meditation.

“A-are you ok, Noona?” A deep voice quietly rumbled behind her.

Her brow furrowed as she turned around. “V-ssi, why are you here?” She managed to not cry, thankfully. Her hands tucked under her arms as the cold registered. “Don’t get sick on my behalf,” She managed a slight smile. His breath hitched a fraction before he lowered his gaze. “Ah, don’t worry about me.” That boxy smile plastered on his face as he looked at her again.

“You could come back in, you know?” He bit into his bottom lip. A subtle brow ticking upward as he extended his hand. She got ready to open her mouth. He could see the reasons forming behind her gaze. “Don’t worry about him, noona.”

“I think I should just go. I don’t want people worrying about me.” She stared at his hand before her eyes slid to the side. “You should ju-” He interrupted her again.

“You read a lot, don’t you, Noona?” She furrowed her brow at his question.

“Y-yea, but what does th-,” He didn’t give her time to ponder the reasoning as he answered her.

“I read too. There is a philosopher, Marcus Aurelius he was a Roman Emperor.” He seemed to ramble, his hand still extended, licking his lips. “He said, The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.” She sighed tilting her head back. “He’s a coward. I don’t think you’re a coward.” She turned to the extended hand suddenly covered in snow.

“Tsk,” She moved the snow from his hand as she took it. “..fine.” That boxy smile lit up the night as he turned to tug her back inside. Jeongguk came barreling outside his expression lightened as he saw Taehyung dragging her back with him. “A-ah! Yes, we’re getting ready to play more games.”

She groaned as the maknae continued, “That asshole was sent home.” He turned Tae with a nod, as she titled her head.

“Oh, they sent him back to the dorm.”

“No, they sent him home.” Jeongguk continued as Tae slowed up. “As in he’s done here.” The veins in Jeongguk’s forearms seemed to pulsate as he crossed them.

“Oh, shit.” She gasped. “I didn’t want him to lose the opportunity.” She sounded remorseful, Tae and Gguk, on the other hand, were mystified by her response.

“You’re kidding right, noona?” Jeongguk tilted his head to Tae confused. Taehyung only sighed, “No, she’s not kidding, Gguk-ah.” They both made their irritation known.

“Look, people are - how they are? Ok. It’s something I’ve dealt with all my life. It’s just..”

“Wrong,” Taehyung spoke between clenched teeth. There was something slightly imposing when they stood together. “It’s wrong, and there’s no place for it around us. You know we have an international fan base. Our music crosses so many boundaries!” Taehyung threw up a hand as Jeongguk seemed to tap in and finish the statement.

“…races, religions, sex, all of it. We don’t care about that. We want people to feel like we aren’t just musicians. We are a family; a community even.” Jeongguk’s tone was firm and full of conviction. “If we can have people around the globe connect with us through our music? Why would we not connect to their issues if we could?”

She looked between the two of them, dumbfounded. Had she ever wondered? Pondered their stance on the world around them? She blinked rapidly unable to find anything wrong with their words.

She wasn’t a coward. This wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last. Taehyung and Jeongguk extended a hand to her. The boxy-bunny smile combination was dangerous, damnit.

“Oh my god, fine. Fine. You’re right. Let’s go.” She took both of their hands and they pulled her back into the restaurant. It seemed brighter somehow. New food was cooking. the staff was all seated around massive grilling tables.

The drinks and laughter flowed, they sat with their supervisors who quickly got tipsy so they could let loose.

[ablindspotter]

Zapata is responsible for Romans death though.

Kinda, yes. It still doesn't make her a traitor, though (I'm guessing you're the same person who sent me the ask yesterday). Their plan was to take down Roman and she did just that and used it to gain Blake's trust. I've said this before on Twitter, people yelled at me, I'm sure they will yell some more now, but I stand by what I said: as much as I LOVE Luke Mitchell and Roman was a brilliant character, keeping him alive would have felt like fan service to me. Roman's story is over. Even if they didn't introduce the whole "find the drives with all the answers" storyline that would be pointless if he was alive, what would be his role in Season 4? The team would get over the fact that he spent X months trying to pin them against each other, break Jane and Kurt's marriage and kill the whole team and work with them to get Blake? Just like that? Or maybe keep being the "bad guy"? A bit repetitive.I just don't see any other options that would be believable.Even if it hurts, I admire a show that has the guts to kill a fan favorite character and favor storytelling over fan service.I'm upset Luke is gone, he was a great addition to this cast we all love so much, but Roman's story was over. I realize now that I went way off topic, but yes, I don't blame Tasha because what she did wasn't wrong. She just did what they spent a whole season trying to do.

[more--than--anything]

Episode Review: "Hands off my computers, Mulder." [S03E19]

It looks like the Jane vs. Roman showdown has begun in full force. But this episode brought us a little more than a little sibling rivalry. What did you think of Galaxy of Minds?

Y: I really enjoyed it. It had a little of everything that I love about this show and a doomsday weapon of sorts. It set up the Jane/Roman finale showdown quite well and while most of the characters took somewhat of a back seat, I think it was important to focus on Roman as we did before moving into the last episodes.

L: I thought this was a very solid episode. Roman was terrifying, the case was intense but brought a little levity into this world that has been so super serious lately, and we even got a tiny bit of Jeller. What a lovely way to usher in the remainder of the season, which is probably going to leave me curled up in the fetal position.

I was surprised that it took us 64 episodes to get a conspiracy theory nut job case. It seems something that would be right up Blindspot’s alley. How did the quirky Dash fit into this week’s case?

L: For a show that is built on secrets and conspiracies, you’re right, it’s kind of surprising that it took us this long to get to “brain rays.” That said, maybe it’s all the years I spent watching The X-Files, but I kind of loved Dash and all the quirky aspects of this case.

Events kick off this week when the tattoo database--which has been quiet since Roman changed his allegiance to Team Crawford--chimes with an alert for a book that just became available for pre-order. The name of the book, “Golden Rhino,” corresponds to a tattoo that is half golden stag beetle, half rhinoceros beetle. I loved Reade identifying the bugs, “Why are you looking at me like that? I have other interests.” It seems a clear call back to Tasha being able to identify the constellation Aldebaran in 1.17, “I like stars, and I was very unpopular in high school.” Maybe we’re supposed to infer that this means these two are compatible, but honestly, to me it just says that everyone on this team is a wee bit geeky in their own way--which probably explains why I love them all so much.

The team hauls in the author of the book, Daschelle (“Call me Dash”) Watkins. He’s a conspiracy theorist who seems nuttier than a fruitcake at first, but as it turns out, his ideas aren’t as far out there as they seem. He tells the team that Golden Rhino is a super-secret military weapons program that was used to assassinate General Joseph Baxter. They are skeptical--especially when he insists that the weapon is a mind-control device--but his intel checks out. Michael Ganzman was the lead engineer for Varnew Industries, one of the largest defense contractors in the country, until he got fired and dropped off the grid, and Baxter was overseeing a weapons contract with Varnew.

Patterson gets tasked with the fun job of sifting through all of Dash’s madness, I mean, research. “Who doesn’t want to sift through the collected works of a madman with said madman? That sounds super fun.” (Too bad things didn’t work out with Jack. I’m sure he’d have loved discussing his Bigfoot evidence with Dash.) One piece of evidence is the black box from Baxter’s plane before it crashed. There isn’t much to the recording, just the windows shattering, no communication from the cockpit, and then a sound that Dash refers to as the “warbles.” (Not to be confused with the Nergal device or the Nargles from Harry Potter, although if there were a connection to either one of these, I have no doubt that Dash could find it.) Dash also has a long list of any out-of-towners in the area of the crash who could have acted as a triggerman on the ground. Patterson is able to cross-reference that list with her own database and comes up with one name who worked for Varnew, Surjik Fells. Unfortunately, he was abducted from police custody that morning by none other than Roman.

The team realizes that Roman is also looking for Ganzman, which tells them they are on the right path. They send a team to investigate a property connected to Ganzman in Oneata, New York, but the pilot of the helicopter reports that his nose is bleeding, and then they hear “warbles” in the background and lose contact with the team. Patterson deduces that the sound they hear comes from a hyper-focused sonic weapon. The FBI brings in the Varnew CEO, Camille Moon, but she refuses to cooperate until Jane stages a fake interview with Avery, in which Avery states that her father kept a journal that recorded each of his meetings with Camille. Afraid that she might be implicated in the deaths of the FBI agents whose helicopter crashed, Camille agrees to help the FBI. She directs them to a factory in Woodstock, where the team arrives to find Ganzman--and the weapon. They are able to destroy the weapon before they are seriously harmed (although Jane is pretty cool about the fact that her husband’s brain is hemorrhaging right in front of her), but Roman gets to Ganzman first and kills him. Jane chases him, but neither she nor Roman is able to take out the other (either because they can’t get the shot or they can’t actually take the shot; hard to tell which, at this point), and Roman gets away.

So the team failed to capture Roman, but they did destroy a powerful weapon before it fell into Crawford’s hands. I’d say that it feels like win, except that Roman apparently unleashed a torrent of hits designed to flood the tattoo database with alerts. Now our team isn’t only flying blind, without Roman’s assistance, they are going to have find real clues like needles in a whole field of haystacks. One step up and two steps back...

Y: Can I start by saying that Crawford being after a mind controlling death ray weapon is very much a comic book super villain and I absolutely love everything about it?

I love when Blindspot manages to pull off a case like this one with equal balance between the trepidation and fear of something absolutely horrible but also add some humor and lightness to it. It’s usually done through a quirky one-time guest star like Dash and gets bonus points when it lands on Patterson to babysit this guest star. And somehow it always ends up on her to do so. It’s not enough that she carries on her shoulder keeping everyone alive week after week, she also has to make room from the crazies invading her lab. All this episode needed was, like you said, some conspiracy nut like Jack to make it complete.

I love how the team--okay, mainly Patterson--succeed in sifting through the madness to make some sense of what is going on and solve this case. I may be biased because I love this team but it just goes to show just how good this team is and how they lean onto each other’s strengths to get things done to solve even the most twisted of puzzles.

I’m sorry, I forgot this is not supposed to be a love letter to the team. Excuse me.

And while they did get to take that weapon off the market, once again, Roman is there to ruin the day for them. They never get a chance to catch their breath and celebrate the small victories. And what is more frustrating I think is that neither the team and nor we as viewers know what Crawford is up to. Okay, granted we might have some more insight thanks to seeing things from Roman’s point of view occasionally, but for the team, they are still in this fight not really knowing what they are up against. And to make things worse, Roman just threw a whole load of crap onto their servers. I really don’t envy their day jobs.

And speaking of Roman, that confrontation with Jane at the warehouse was just great. I’ve loved how they’ve escalated things between these two through the season. We started with the occasional taunting phone calls--you know as all sibling phone calls are--and the tug of war between the two with Roman mainly winning the emotional tugging at first. Then came their meeting in Croatia where Jane managed to press all the right buttons to mess him up psychologically. And finally this episode brought them face to face but with guns. Just the way Shepherd taught them to resolve family disputes. It’s quite interesting that whenever these two face each other while armed, they either cannot make the shot--whether it’s Roman in 2.10 or Jane in 2.22--or they suddenly have terrible aim as was the case in this episode and in 2.21 when Roman missed Jane from a few meters.

But what matters is that all this sets up the finale and the showdown between these two quite nicely. They’ve both announced their allegiances quite clearly and proved that when the time comes they know where they stand. So the question now is, where’s my chocolate?

This team just cannot catch a break. You’d think that after having assassins come after them, they would take a few days off, but here they are, back at work and back to what they do best--not running away from danger. How is the team doing? Please tell me they’ve all kissed and made up!

Y: Well to be fair, this week was slightly less jarring than last week, especially with the emotional tolls that last week carried, mainly for Tasha. Okay, maybe babysitting Dash was as exhausting for Patterson as a date with Jack was but still, at least no one tried to blow her up. While Patterson was stuck with Dash--and again I just love when they pair her up with the crazy ones because it is a recipe for golden moments like the quote in our title--Reade had probably the easiest day of all, getting to stay in his tailored three-piece suit and play the AD all day. And I’m not saying I envy his job, but not getting dirty is a rare thing on this show and Reade won the lottery this week. Tasha was quiet for most of the episode but did get to go on a brain-melting field trip with the Wellers and play some Humvee bowling, and now I am wondering if maybe she was the one who won the lottery instead.

I loved the moment between Tasha and Patterson in the end. Yes, Patterson is still not ready to let Tasha back in, but on the one hand she is not as cold and the cracks in the walls are starting to form. And on the other hand, I am proud of Tasha for not giving up. It’s hard being in Tasha’s place and still having hope and faith in your friendship and still trying to reconnect. These two may still be a long way away from where they once were, but I know they will find their way back to each other. Because if they don’t, I am going to need more chocolate.

L: Patterson definitely drew the short straw this week, babysitting Dash. But as always, she is able to put the pieces together and figure out the way to save the day. I agree, I think that Tasha continuing to reach out to Patterson is going to help break down the walls between them, but it’s not going to be instantaneous. And to some degree, I think that Patterson sorting out her personal stuff (finally moving on from Borden and trying out a date with Jack) is going to help her to come to place of peace with Tasha’s actions. Maybe not as quickly as we’d like, but eventually.

And honestly, at this point in the season, more chocolate is never a bad idea. We still have Reade planning a wedding with his illegally-in-this-country fiancée, and all of these weird unresolved feelings between him and Tasha to deal with. While Roman is gunning for the whole team. Yup, nothing but good times ahead...

Roman’s journey and story this season has been at the heart of everything, and the Roman we’ve seen so far this year has been a man in control and a man with a single-minded approach to a clear endgame. And this episode focused heavily on the younger Kruger sibling. Where’s the puppet master at right now? Still under control?

L: I think Roman is definitely losing control. And it’s not just juggling his relationship with Blake with his duties for Crawford, although maintaining that delicate balance is certainly taxing him to the max. He knows that the situation he is in is untenable: His cover as “Tom” won’t last forever, and he really doesn’t want it to--he wants desperately to be honest with Blake and have her love him for who he is really is, but at the same time, he knows that if he tells her the truth, he will lose her forever. Maybe not as dramatically as he envisioned--although I really loved his little “what if” imagining--but even if Blake can’t bring herself to actually kill him, he knows Crawford will. It’s no coincidence that the way he imagines Blake killing him is the same way that he watched Crawford kill Vic--and is the same way that he kills Ganzman. In each case, it is a quick and easy way to dispose of someone who has no longer has any value to you. His lies are the past that he tells Blake will “always be chasing me, trying to devour me.”

And the thing is, I think Roman knows he’s doomed. He knows he’s not as strong as Jane, who was able to overcome her memory loss and carve out a new life for herself. I think he’s being quite honest when he tells Fells that yes, he is insane. He doesn’t have the same basis in reality that Jane does, and the longer he plays at being Tom, the further from reality he’s getting. Without the moral compass that guides his sister, Roman is more adrift. He’s always been casual about killing, but the way he kills Fells and then Ganzman seems especially brutal to me. Or maybe it was the way he called for a cleanup in aisle, I mean, suite 3. (I think Yas pointed out in a review earlier this season how when things get complicated, Roman resorts to what has always worked best for him: Kill anyone who stands in his way. It’s simple and for him, relatively foolproof.)

I keep wondering how much Roman really knows about Crawford’s plans. He knows that Crawford needs a lot of land and aims to become the world’s “police” to ensure peace. But there was a reason Roman wanted so desperately to stop Crawford that he went to such extreme measures, designing the new tattoos and setting up the team. Does he understand the full scope of Crawford’s plan? Is it something that he is truly okay with helping Crawford achieve? And I keep wondering about the weapon that the FBI destroyed today; does Crawford need it? How unhappy is he going to be that Roman killed the only person who could recreate it?

And when it comes down to it, I just can’t see Roman being completely okay with killing Jane. “Killing me would be like killing part of yourself” is what he says to her, and I think that’s true for both of them. They do have this long history together that even memory loss can’t entirely erase. By killing Jane, he would be killing the last piece of him that is still Roman. There is a moment when Roman sees the news report about the FBI helicopter crash and that everyone aboard perished, when it seems like he is overcome with emotion. I wondered then if he thought that Jane and the team were aboard, and if, in that moment, he was regretting the loss of his sister. I know, given his current trajectory, that it seems hard to believe that he harbors any tender feelings toward Jane, but then then again, neither one of them were able to actually kill the other during this meeting or any of their previous encounters (beginning at the NYO, when Shepherd released Roman). I think that deep inside both of them is the hope that the other will cave and say, “You were right. I’m sorry. Please take me back.” Because if that were to happen, I think both of them would. Not quickly or easily, perhaps, but they wouldn’t turn the other away. Even Roman, as murderous as he might be. Because above all else, Roman still craves love. We see that when he asks Blake to run away with him. He can’t hide his disappointment when she tells him that she can’t just leave her father and her work. He had to know that would be her answer, but he asked her anyway. He had hope.

Speaking of Blake, I love that Blake is becoming suspicious of Roman. I want so much for her to be more than just a pampered rich girl who is dissuaded from her very legitimate questioning of “Tom” by the promise of running off and keeping a secret from her father.  When we got that bit where Roman envisions Blake stabbing him after he admits his true identity, I cheered out loud. Not because I want to see Roman get hurt, but because I loved seeing Blake show that she is every bit as capable of the same brutality as her father. She’s an intelligent, well-educated woman who was raised by a man who is shrewd, confident, and utterly ruthless. I have a hard time believing that she is truly as sweet and gullible as we’ve seen so far. I feel like there are hidden depths to Miss Crawford that we have yet to see.

Y: How amazing has this story been? If anything, season 3 should be remembered for how brilliantly the Roman storyline has been crafted and written and developed and of course portrayed by the incredible Luke Mitchell. It’s incredibly difficult to write a sympathetic villain and even harder to write one that you can have the audience begging not for demise or failure but for their redemption. And Roman is all these things. At least for me.

Roman’s psychological and emotional journey has led him to quite an interesting place. And not to mention that apparently the state of his physical health is apparently playing a role in the decisions he’s making. Looking back at the Roman we met in 2.01 and the Roman we met through the flashbacks and to see where he is now, I think Roman remains one of the clearest characters, one who is so complex in how simple the foundation of his character is. But the thing is, it is so painfully and tragically relatable and sympathetic and that is what makes him so compelling.

And Roman in this episode was the most complex and the most messed-up Roman we’ve seen to date. Watching him switch between crazy interrogator/torturer (anyone else think he could have a place in Keaton’s team if he chooses to join the CIA?) and sweet tortured boyfriend and super intelligent mastermind who’s been planning the tattoos and Crawford’s takedown for years and the broken angry little brother was equal parts terrifying and amazing. Jane is right. Roman is scrambling, but he has never been more dangerous because he’s still in so many ways in control but he’s also losing all control. And for a man who’s had nothing to lose really for so long, this can only be a recipe for disaster.

Now, a question. How many times can I ask “where’s my chocolate?” before you guys start rolling your eyes?

Jane’s juggling a lot this year--between trying to fix her marriage, taking on motherhood, dealing with her pesky brother, and trying to take down one of the most evil men on the planet. I think it is safe to say she’s not having any days off any time soon, but she did have a small opportunity to smile this week.

Y: I am about to say something that I absolutely hate but oh well… I kind of understand why Jeller has taken the back seat in the second half of the season, and it makes sense. But I still hate it. Maybe they overwhelmed Jane’s character with more plot lines than can fit in the episode format considering the character elements are always secondary to cases. This season, Jane is central to three main stories besides the tattoos and the cases--there’s Jane and Roman, Jane and Avery, and Jane and Kurt. The third may have taken priority in the first few episodes, but once Avery was introduced, all this shifted towards that and there was no more space for Jeller.

I am not going to argue that the Jane/Roman story shouldn’t take precedence because it should, especially that it is at the core of this year’s mythology, but I think introducing Avery made it hard to balance that with focusing also on Jane and Kurt’s relationship. The writers have been trying to make Avery and Jane’s relationship with at the center of the Jeller reconciliation, and while it has worked at times, it did shove Jeller to the side.

But anyway, with that said, let’s talk about Jane and Avery for a bit, shall we?

After rewatching this episode, I went back and watched the Avery-related moments from previous episodes especially those right after Berlin. I am not going to lie: The progress of their relationship has been very sweet, and obviously I’m biased towards Jane, so I am mostly happy for her to be able to develop this relationship. It’s true that Jane does have a family in the team, but the only thing she has from her real family is pain and suffering. In Avery she has found something more pure and more innocent. Does that mean this relationship is going to end in pain and suffering as well for Jane? It is possible, but I really hope not. Jane deserves something good in her life and if she can get that through Avery then I’m all for it.

But definitely not all for Avery living full-time with Jane and Weller, as sweet as that was and as important as it is in terms of moving forward with this relationship. Not for anything, but the girl needs to go to college at some point, doesn’t she?

L: I agree that Jane’s relationship with Avery has been very important for Jane this season. As much as I too love Jeller, Jane is much more than just Kurt’s wife. She’s been searching for family, for connections, for her place in this world since the premiere. Marrying Kurt--and staying married, through good times and bad--is one piece of that puzzle. Building a place in the team is another. But Roman--her only flesh-and-blood relative until Avery came along--has been a much more difficult situation, and their confrontation in this episode proved that it won’t be easy or painless for her resolve. Enter Avery, someone who shares Jane’s blood and is a part of her that cannot ever be erased. As we’ve talked about before, committing to this relationship is even harder than a marriage, because there are no “divorces” from your kid.

I’ve been really loving the way this relationship has unfolded--the tiny steps that Jane has made, and the ways that she has slowly gotten past all the barriers that Avery erected between them. But I must admit that I’m still worried that things with Avery won’t end happily for Jane. I want to trust Avery, but I am afraid that she’s going to let Jane down and break her heart.

As we saw at the gala, Avery is a lot like her mother. Cool under pressure, very persuasive, and great undercover. She does a great job of selling the story of her father’s journal to Camille. And I guess that’s why she worries me so much--she’s such a good actress that I worry that she could be acting for this whole relationship she is supposedly building with Jane. What if she was still somehow working with Roman after the Wellers brought her back from Berlin? That would explain her intense interest in the case against Crawford. I can’t shake the feeling that there is more about her father or her relationship with the Crawfords than we know. And even if she wasn’t working with Roman, if she believes that Roman is now aligning himself with Crawford, what would keep her from going off half-cocked if she thought she could get to him or Crawford? We know she’s just as impulsive as her mother and uncle. Teens; it’s so hard to tell if you should give them a hug or ground them until they’re thirty.

Even though I don’t fully trust Avery, I still kind of love her. She’s just such a typical teen. First there’s the way everything is totally black and white; no gray area, no nuances. Her dad did bad things for Hank Crawford, so he’s a bad guy. All her memories are ruined, and she should just throw out all of her pictures of him. She cannot separate the father she knew from the facts she is learning about him. And then when Jane tries to empathize with her, to talk about how she resolved her feelings about her mother, Avery cuts her off. Like most teens, her pain is so much greater than anyone else’s, there is no way that Jane could ever understand.

I still don’t really understand why Avery is still in FBI custody in New York. She was a victim/witness, and I just can’t believe that the FBI would keep someone hostage in that capacity for so long. Didn’t she have a life of her own before all of this? Friends? Was she in college? Shouldn’t she maybe be allowed to return to that life at some point? Although yes, after Roman’s attacks on the team last week, it does make sense that they would want to keep her under closer supervision right now. While I’m complaining, I also don’t understand why it didn’t already occur to either Kurt or Jane to ask Avery to move in. I mean, she doesn’t know anyone else in New York, and Jane is her mother, even if she isn’t the person who raised her. Leaving her alone in a safe house for this long seems kind of mean, to be honest.

But all that said, since it doesn’t look like Jane will get any sort of reconciliation with Roman, I’m glad that she’s been able to build a family with Kurt and Avery, and I think it will be a source of strength for her when she next faces off with her brother. Which will be sooner rather than later.

Pass the chocolate.

Kurt, apparently, has been working on his one liners recently. Was it the headache named Dash or a nosebleed that caused him the most stress this week?

Y: With Jane focusing on Avery, and for some reason his family still MIA and no one asking about them, Kurt seems to be floating in the orbit of Jane trying to build a relationship with Avery. And again, I am not really complaining because it is giving us beautiful moments of Kurt being the world’s most precious husband and stepdad. But maybe I am complaining a little bit. I have to admit that I am enjoying this Kurt with the snarky one liners though--his comments to Dash about the book having too many pages and telling him to shut up over comms had me cracking up. It’s subtle but these little moments really do tell a lot about character sometimes, and I think this show does them really well with Kurt, and with everyone else for that matter.

Kurt has realized and accepted that he has to take the back seat at the moment and make room for Avery and make room for Jane’s emotional journey with Avery, and he is doing it with grace. He’s welcomed Avery into their lives, and he’s been so supportive of Jane every step of the way and honestly someone just give this boy an award of sorts. Yes, the Berlin mess was a mess but he has more than made up for it now and he deserves all of the awards!

L: I keep going back to Jane telling Kurt that she thought he’d make a wonderful dad. Because he really is. Teenagers are tough on any marriage. Step-parenting isn’t for the faint of heart. But Kurt has committed fully to his marriage to Jane, and that means that he’s taken her daughter as one of his own. We saw how much her loss in Berlin tortured him, long before Jane even knew she existed. Avery is a part of Jane, and for that reason, Kurt handed over a piece of his heart, no question asked. He is obviously thrilled when Jane asks if Avery can come to live them. And who can’t love a man like that??

And finally, Jeller. After being mostly absent for the middle of the season, it’s good to see them taking some steps forward in their relationship this week. But these two are anything but conventional in any aspect of their lives, so where are they headed now?

Y: I don’t know what it is but it’s like someone told the writers that high dosages of Jeller are dangerous so we’re only getting droplets every now and then. Dudes, we’re here for it. We’re up for it. We want all the Jeller. All the time! That is literally what we signed up for! Granted, what we did get the week is huge and not only because we got two frames of blink-and-you-miss-it of PDA but also because of what it means that Jane wants Avery to move in with them. While on the surface this seems to be about Jane and Avery’s relationship, it is also very much about Jeller’s.

Jane wanting Avery to move in with them and believing that it would be the best way to keep her safe and give her something better speaks volumes about where Jane and Kurt’s relationship is, how far they’ve come and how Jane sees it. It was just a few weeks ago that she moved out and then moved back in and even then, they still didn’t know how they would rebuild their relationship and their life together. But this step from Jane says many things. It says that the home they’ve built is a home and family and that what they have and what they can offer Avery is safety and protection and someone to watch over her and have her back because that is what they have with each other. They have moved on from wondering how this will work or whether it will work. I admit it all happened without us seeing any of it and that is frustrating, but we are seeing the fruits of the reconciliation and this rebuilding process and them arriving to this place where they are a home and a family and two people who see in each other the one person who represents these two things as well as security and safety and love.

I still don’t like that we’re getting a read-between-the-lines version of Jeller. I’m used to the in your face Jeller. I miss my Jeller!

L: I’ve been trying to figure out why the lack of Jeller bugs me so much (besides the fact that I miss them so much!). Yes, the characters are all interesting in their own rights, and the mystery is compelling and the action keeps us on the edge of our seats. So why get so wrapped up in the marital details of two of the characters? I mean it’s not like the posters for each season advertise that this show is about a gorgeous tattooed woman and the sexy FBI agent assigned to her case. Oh, wait... That’s pretty much exactly what they do. No wonder we feel like something important is missing!

But the more I dwelled on it, I realized that this is a show whose entire premise is about a woman who crawled out of a bag with no memory. From day one, this has been Jane’s journey. And frankly, Jane has been a more minor character lately. She’s there, yes, but more in service to the bigger mystery (which is Roman and Crawford this season) than to her own personal journey. If Jane’s journey has been to figure out where she belongs, then a large part of that has to be finding her home, which in her case means her home with Weller and now with Avery. And as much as I love the Avery storyline, lately it’s come at the expense of Jeller. And the more removed I feel from this important piece of Jane, the more removed I feel from the main character and the show as a whole.

That said, I did really love the scene where she asks Kurt if Avery can come live with them, for all of the reasons Yas gave so beautifully above. That’s kind of huge. In any marriage, deciding to bring children into the picture is a big decision. And that’s when they’re tiny and adorable and relatively easy to understand. Teenagers are a whole different ballgame. (There’s a reason you don’t give birth to teenagers. If you did, the human race would be in serious danger of extinction!) So I do love that Jane felt comfortable enough with where their relationship was to ask Kurt for this, and I love that he has zero hesitation about opening up their home to her daughter, because it shows his commitment to Jane is so strong that it encompasses all her personal baggage and nearly-grown kids!

Basically, what it says to me is that this relationship is strong enough to make it. And I guess that’s going to have to be enough for now.

That’s it from us for this week! We’ve got only three more episodes left in the season and we are most certainly not prepared for any of it. Are you? If you say you are, we know you are lying. How can you be?? Now, go buy yourself some chocolate because pain and angst are coming your way!

--Laura & Yas 

[thcenemy-a-blog]

SHIPPING INFO | ABOUT MUN. REPOST DON’T REBLOG.

✧ WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?

roman x kat. she was good for him and i like to think that roman would have been good for her if he was just given the chance to prove it. i like to imagine that roman and kat ran away together and are just road-tripping all across the country on their bikes. roleplay wise, i’ve really enjoyed talking to @dontdoboyfriends about their relationship and how it builds and develops over time.

✧ WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?

i steer well away from non-con and pregnancy arcs but everything else is fair game so long as there is a point to it. while every relationship has it’s turbulence and problems i prefer writing angst where there’s an actual light at the end of the tunnel in which both muses grow, develop and heal even if that healing takes place apart from each other. i’d also never ship with a muse / mun that is racist, queerphobic or anti-semitic but then i’d never write with a muse or mun who writes that shit so.

✧ HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE

depends. for my younger muses ( 16-18 year olds ) the age gap has to be relatively small, mid twenties would be pushing my boundaries and would have to be heavily discusses and plotted with my partner but with my older muses the age gap can get a little bigger so long as my partners muses are also adults.

the age gap issues only really blur when it comes to immortal muses who don’t age which is a whole other can of worms.

✧ ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

i am selective simply because some muses just don’t have that romantic chemistry no matter how hard you try for it and i prefer to get to know my partners before shipping our muses together just because it makes me more comfortable in discussing our muses relationship and how their dynamic works or doesn’t work.

✧ HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW?

as soon as the word cock is mentioned tbh.

✧ WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?

my current shipping partners are all mela tbh lmao @dontdoboyfriends / @notacircusmonkey though there are a handful of muses that i think could potentially develop and become ships if we interact and build on it more but i don’t want to url drop them.

✧ DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

yep. though generally the only people interested in shipping with me are my partners whom i talk to regularly or interact with often so i’m usually already shipping it but too cowardly to say anything about it yet.

✧ HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?

i enjoy shipping but it’s not the main thing that i come online for.

✧ ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

i can be ship obsessed when it comes to certain muses or interactions but i like to think that shipping isn’t my main focus. i prefer to focus on developing my muses and helping my partners develop theirs, seeing them grow, adapt, change together whether that’s romantically or not.

✧ ARE YOU MULTISHIP?

definitely multiship. unless otherwise stated all my interactions with people are in their own verses.

✧ WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE SHIP(S) IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

my favourite ships in blindspot have one of the people dead or split up for good / understandable reasons please. roman x kat. patterson x david. weller x jane. those are my three main ships, i’m sort of indifferent to all the other canon ships and then i’ve got my unrealistic ships but ones i like to think about like, cade x roman or patterson x roman and crackships like weller x jane x rich or rich x tasha x patterson.

✧ FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

interact with me, build a verse or a story arc with me with our muses and the just talk to me about it. chances are it’s gonna lead to our muses falling in love at some point.

TAGGING :  @casualtygain, @outlawpride, @agentxiii, @deathresistant TAGGED BY :  @bretttal

[riskaddicted]

31 texts in total that are visible in this shot.

other things = 1 Roman = 1 Weller = 3 Reade = 6 Jane = 6 Zapata = 10

Patterson’s email inbox is just a whole dump of the team and esp Tasha and i’m mcfreakin LOVING it :’) ( x )

[gypsyscarfwoman]

Lost and Found (Part 4)

(Part 1 |  Part 2 | Part 3) (Also available on FF.net)

Blindspot fanfic. In which a tattooed coffee barista hires a stubbly private investigator to find her long-lost brother. Wildly AU.

“Stop breathing down my neck, Weller.” Tasha didn’t look up from the computer screen in front of her.

“I’m not,” he said with great dignity. “I was on my way to get another cup of coffee.” He held up his mug as evidence as he made his way to the office’s small kitchen.

Just because he’d been waiting for her to get in this morning so she could scan the photo Jane had drawn of Shepherd didn’t mean he was hovering. Well, not much.

He filled his mug from the pot Tasha had brewed when she’d arrived. It wasn’t as good as the cup he’d gotten that morning from Jane. Tomorrow he’d have to remember to buy a pound of ground coffee when he stopped in. It was better than whatever they’d been buying for the office.

He’d wanted to have more to tell Jane this morning, but hadn’t made any progress over the weekend. He’d given up on Sunday and gone for a long run, stopping into The Pour House to buy a bottle of water, but Jane hadn’t been in. He shouldn’t have been surprised; she was probably better at relaxing than he was. Most people were.

He’d really enjoyed their dinner on Friday, in spite of the awkward personal revelations he’d dumped in her lap. Jane had a good sense of humor, and they’d found that they shared the same taste in movies and television shows, like Star Wars and The X-Files.

If he was telling the truth, dinner with Jane had been more fun than the last date he’d been on. But at the end of the meal, they’d bid each other a cordial good night, and she’d politely declined his offer to walk her home. Which was probably just as well. She was a client, and any relationship between them would no doubt be as awkward as it was inappropriate.

He took a sip of coffee, grimaced at the taste, and headed back to his office.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Tasha was muttering at her screen as he walked by.

Kurt kept himself from looking in her direction, for fear of invoking her fiery temper. Tasha was very good at what she did, and she’d tell him what she’d found when she was ready. She was also downright lethal if you pissed her off, so he preferred to keep well on her good side.

He’d gotten exactly one step into his office when she called, “Where are you going?”

He stuck his head back out. “Did you need me?”

She waved her hand in a “come here” gesture without looking at him. “That’s why we couldn’t find her.”

“Find who?”

She shot him a look that clearly questioned why he was the one in charge. “Ellen Briggs.”

“And we couldn’t find her because… she’s very good at hiding her trail.”

“She’s very good at hiding her trail because she’s dead,” she corrected him.

He blinked. “She died?”

“Umm-hmm. Twenty-two years ago. Which is why there are no records for her after that.”

Kurt tried to make sense out of that. “So… either she faked her death, or she really died and someone else took her identity, or…”

“Or Jane lied,” said Tasha flatly.

“Or Jane lied.” He didn’t like it. Didn’t think it was true. But he had to consider all the angles.

“What about the facial recognition?” He nodded toward the sketch at the corner of Tasha’s desk.

“The sketch Jane drew?” Tasha asked. “It matches.”

He understood what Tasha meant. If Jane had no problem sketching a ten-years-older Roman, aging up a photo of Ellen Briggs wouldn’t present much of a challenge.

“What do we know about Ellen Briggs?”

Tasha’s fingers moved steadily over the keyboard. “Died of complications from ovarian cancer. She was an officer in the US Army, received a medical discharge about six months before she died, following twelve years of active duty service. Attended college on an ROTC scholarship. No living family members.”

The image that appeared on her computer screen showed a woman in an Army uniform. Her hair was pulled back, and she wore a uniform beret on her head, but the cold look in her eye was exactly the same as Jane had drawn.

“How come you’re so sure Jane is lying?” he asked Tasha.

She didn’t answer for a minute, which was odd. Tasha was never shy about voicing her opinion—especially when he was wrong. “There are holes in her story you could drive a Mack truck through,” she said at last. “You’re usually the most skeptical person I know. But you want to believe everything she tells you.”

“There are definitely things she’s not telling us,” he acknowledged.

“Or the things she’s told you might not be the truth.”

“That’s possible.”

She turned her head then, to look over her shoulder at him. “I just don’t want her to take advantage of you.”

“Of me?” He blinked.

She gave him a pitying look. “How long have I worked for you?”

“Three years.”

“Almost four. And I have never”—she pointed her finger at him for emphasis—“never seen you look at a woman the way you look at her.”

He shifted uncomfortably under her stern look. “She’s a client. Just a client.”

Tasha shook her head.

“So you’re worried about me?” he asked with a grin. “Aww, I didn’t know you cared.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer. “You’re an idiot. You need a keeper.”

“You say the sweetest things. How come I haven’t fired you?”

“Because you couldn’t hack your way out of a paper bag,” she muttered, without looking away from the screen. “Ellen’s degree was a Bachelor’s of Science in Chemistry.”

He instantly made the connection. “Chemistry might have something to do with the pain management clinic.”

Tasha nodded. “I’ve found six in the five boroughs that opened after the one where Jane saw Roman closed down. None of them have any obvious financial connections to the first clinic, but I’ll keep digging. I just sent you the list.”

He nodded and turned to go back to his office. “Tasha?” he said over his shoulder as he got to the door.

“Yeah?” she looked up.

“Thanks.”

She shook her head and turned back to her screen. “I got your back, boss.”

###

The following morning found Kurt ensconced in a Starbucks, watching people coming and going from the strip mall across the street.

He’d narrowed down the list that Tasha had given him. Three of the clinics looked legitimate, located in busy medical parks with professional-looking websites and staff bios that checked out. Of the remaining three, this one looked the sketchiest, so he’d decided to start here.

He’d been there since 6:30 that morning. Which meant that he’d gotten coffee there instead of at The Pour House, ignoring the fact that it made him feel vaguely unfaithful. He took a sip of his black coffee and tried not to grimace. For as popular as the coffee chain was, he still liked the brew from Jane’s place best.

You’re avoiding her, said a voice in his head that sounded annoyingly like Tasha’s. He ignored it and tapped at the laptop in front of him, pretending to work as he kept his gaze trained on the clinic across the street.

He hadn’t confronted Jane about Shepherd’s death yet. The logical part of his brain said that he needed to consider the possibility that the whole story Jane had told him had been a fabrication. None of the information she’d given him about her past had checked out. He was a person who dealt in facts, in black and white. And the facts were not stacking up in Jane’s favor.

The less logical portion of his brain though… that part believed her. She’d looked scared when she talked about Shepherd. Bereft when she talked about her brother. And he couldn’t shake the conviction that not telling him everything was her way of protecting him from whatever it was that had her so frightened.

So for the moment, he was just going to try to do what he’d been hired to do and find Roman. The cop in him said that if Jane was lying, she’d trip up eventually. And if she wasn’t, he’d find something that would back up her story. He just had to be patient.

Patience wasn’t nearly as hard as inactivity, though, as the morning wore on. He’d never liked stakeouts when he’d been a cop. He liked them even less on uncomfortable wooden chairs.

When his phone buzzed, he grabbed it eagerly. “Whatcha got, Tasha?”

“I was looking into the records for the assault charges against Ian Rigg,” she said. He could hear the distant sound of her fingers typing in the background.

“And?”

“The charges were dropped because the victim disappeared.” She gave a gusty sigh. “They fished his body out of the Schuylkill River about two months later. It had been in there a while. Specific time of death couldn’t be determined.”

“Any arrests?”

“Nope. The case is still open. I’m sending you the case notes now.”

Across the street, an anonymous white van pulled into a parking spot on the street a couple of doors down from the clinic. He curtailed his lecture on breaking into police databases. “Thanks, Tasha.”

“Weller?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “Be careful. This guy could be dangerous.”

The door opened, and a man with light brown hair and beard got out.

“Gotta go.” Kurt hung up on Tasha and tapped the camera on the phone. Zooming in, he snapped pictures of the man—definitely Roman—and the license plate of the van.

Roman opened the rear door of the van, and leaned in. His jacket hung open, giving Kurt a clear view of the gun he was carrying. He extracted two boxes, slammed the door shut, and headed toward the clinic.

Kurt hurriedly closed his laptop and shoved it into his bag. He tossed the still half-full coffee cup in the trash on his way out.

He’d parked on the street out front, but he was facing the opposite direction. He drove to the next block, made a U-turn, and pulled into a spot half a block behind the van. He texted the plates to Tasha and asked her to trace them.

Roman came out of the clinic a few minutes later. The scar on his face was clearly visible behind the dark sunglasses he was wearing. He climbed back into the van and pulled out of the spot.

Kurt followed, careful to keep two cars between them.

Roman immediately changed lanes and pulled a hard left turn at the last possible second. Kurt cursed and changed lanes, running a yellow light to make the left turn after the van. He dropped back to put another car between him and Roman. He wasn’t sure if Roman was aware that he was being tailed or if he was simply driving evasively in order to prevent anyone from following him. Kurt managed to keep up through two more last-minute turns, but then Roman gunned the van to run a light that had just turned red, trapping Kurt behind the car in front of him that obediently stopped in time.

“Dammit.” He smacked the steering wheel in frustration.

Whatever Roman was up to, he was looking less and less like the innocent younger brother Jane had painted him to be.

###

Jane almost skipped in her hurry to get to Kurt’s office. He’d called to tell her that he’d found something, so she’d scooted out of the coffee shop that afternoon as fast as her legs could carry her. I’m so close, Roman, I promise.

“Miss Kruger.” Kurt’s assistant—Tasha, she remembered—gave her a cool nod without looking up from her computer screen. She was even less welcoming than the first time, and Jane wondered how on earth the business survived with someone like her guarding the door.

The door to Kurt’s office was open, and a moment later, he appeared in the doorway. “Jane, come in.”

He ushered her into his office and closed the door behind her.

She took the same seat as last time, but this time, Kurt walked around to sit behind his desk.

He didn’t beat around the bush. “I saw Roman this morning.”

“You did?” Roman was still alive and here in New York. She closed her eyes for a moment at the sudden rush of emotion. “Where? Did you talk to him?”

Kurt turned the laptop on his desk to face her. There, on the screen, was her brother. Older, with the still unfamiliar-to-her beard. But it was him.

Jane pressed her hands to her mouth for a moment. When she was sure she could speak without crying, she whispered, “Thank you, Kurt. Thank you so much.”

“I didn’t talk to him. He didn’t seem to want to be talked to.”

Something in his tone of voice penetrated through her happy fog. “What do you mean?”

He tapped a button. The next photo showed Roman leaning over. The handle of a handgun was clearly visible in his waistband.

“People carrying guns don’t always react well to interruptions. Or surprises.”

She frowned, studying the picture for a moment. “You carry a handgun. Do you shoot anyone who stops to talk to you?”

He looked surprised for a moment that she’d noticed, though she didn’t know why. Concealed didn’t mean invisible if you knew what you were looking for. Which she did.

“I have a license as well as a concealed carry permit,” he said stiffly. “We haven’t been able to find so much as a legal driver’s license for Roman.”

“He could have changed his name,” she argued, “if he wanted to get away from Shepherd.”

“Ah. Shepherd.” Kurt leaned back in his chair. “Which is an alias for Ellen Briggs.”

She didn’t understand the strange tone of his voice. “Yes. Why?”

He reached forward to tap a button on the computer, and an official looking document appeared on the screen. “Because Ellen Briggs is dead.”

“She’s dead?” She knew that she should feel bad. What kind of person felt happy that someone was dead? But all she could feel was relief. “When?” It must have been recent—

“Twenty-two years ago.”

She blinked in confusion, looking from him to the screen in front of her. The year on the death certificate agreed with what he’d said, but it still didn’t make any sense. “So, the woman who adopted us wasn’t Ellen Briggs? Then who was she?”

“This is the photo that accompanied Ellen Briggs’s obituary.” He tapped the computer again, and a picture of Shepherd in a military uniform appeared.

“That’s her. That’s Shepherd.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“There is no record of an Alice or Ian Kruger being adopted by anyone twenty-one years ago.”

“So… she’s not legally our mother? That’s… that’s good news, actually.” She couldn’t deny that she would be glad to know that she wasn’t tied to Shepherd. “But why would she fake her death?”

Kurt regarded her steadily. “Jane, I haven’t been able to find out anything that backs up what you’ve told me. There are no adoption records, no documentation at all of an adult named Ian or Roman Briggs. The only evidence I’ve found was for the assault case in Philadelphia. The victim of which was found dead two months later.”

Dead. A chill went down Jane’s spine. “What are you implying? You think Roman killed that man?” He wouldn’t have… Would he? The Roman she remembered wouldn’t have had the stomach for murder… But he had the training, reminded a little voice in her head.

“I think Roman is mixed up in some bad business. Some dangerous business.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a killer, though.” She rubbed her temple. “What is it that you think he’s doing exactly?”

Kurt’s forehead drew together in a frown, and for a moment she thought he might not answer. “I think he’s selling drugs.”

She drew back. “Drugs?” Roman wouldn’t sell drugs. “You think he’s dealing?” she asked, her voice rising. Certainly Shepherd had dealt with dealers, but she’d viewed them as only a step above users—people who had made their own poor choices in life.

“Illegal medications, most likely opioids.”

“Where did you see him? What exactly did you see?” she demanded.

“The business park where you saw him had a pain management clinic. It shut down abruptly right after you saw Roman there. I saw him delivering boxes to a different clinic today.”

“Delivering boxes is not the same thing as dealing drugs.”

“And delivering band-aids and tongue depressors doesn’t usually require carrying a handgun,” he fired back.

Jane held on to her temper with effort. Roman was not some drug dealer. Whatever was going on was something different. “I want to know where you saw him. The address, please.”

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

“No?” Jane drew a deep breath. “I am paying you to find him. You found him. Now give me the address.”

“So you can go over there and get yourself tied up in the middle of a drug deal or worse? Absolutely not.” He held up his hand before she could blow up. “Let’s start over. You tell me who this is,” he tapped a key on the laptop until it was back to the picture of Roman, “and why you want to find him.”

Jane concentrated on her breathing. In. And out. In. And out. It had been a very long time since she’d lost her temper, and she wasn’t going to do it now. “If you thought I wasn’t telling you the truth, why did you even take this case?” she asked, keeping her voice low-pitched and steady.

“I knew there were things you weren’t telling me, but I obviously underestimated how important those details were to the case,” he answered evenly. “So why don’t you tell me what I don’t know.”

He didn’t believe her. Had probably never believed her. That knowledge shouldn’t hurt her. She’d hired him to do a job, after all, not married him. But still…. He was the first person she’d been this honest with in a long time. She’d told him things that no one who knew her now would ever know about her.

And he hadn’t believed a single word of it.

“Why don’t you send me the information that you’ve collected,” she said, rising from her chair. “On me and my brother and adoptive mother. Along with your bill for the time you spent on my case. Thank you for your help, Mr. Weller.”

She swept out of his office, not bothering to say anything to his assistant as she passed by.

Her anger carried her to the end of the block, and she was halfway down the next one before the first tear fell.