#thanks for enabling me to talk about room things for way too long.

[360iris]

Me & U, Isn’t | dad’s best friend!santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader

2.5k word count. Content warning— this is not a good time read! Relationship angst, m/c is intended to be over 21 years of age, Santi isn’t a bad guy, but he isn’t the best either. M/c is kind of self deprecating tbh, message for the girlies: Always speak your mind, and let your feelings be known if you are in a safe place to do so! Fuck “keeping the peace.” Don’t be like this m/c! She is stubborn! Anyway, I wrote this almost two months ago. It was fun stressing my friends out talking about it. Now the world can read it and stress too ig lol

Please do not read if you are not in the right headspace for more serious relationship topics and themes, thanks!

The last thing you’d expected to see this afternoon was Santiago leaning against his truck, arms folded as he watched you pull into your reserved parking spot at your apartment complex. A fond smirk lining his lips.

You take your time gathering your things, face waxing unimpressed as you exited the vehicle. “How long have you been out here?” You ask with brows knitted as he pushes himself up.

“About... ten minutes?” He takes a moment to think it over. “Saw your phone location and noticed you were headed back this way. Figured I’d be able to catch you before you headed back out.”

“What the fuck?” You remark surprisingly, looking at him like he’d grown a third arm. “Since when have you been doing that?”

“You let me, remember? That one night you were all cock drunk, I asked you and you let me enable it.” He says nonchalantly and you stare at him fixedly for a moment before promptly turning to start walking to your door.

Santiago simply follows suit, his pace lax as he trails behind you, waiting patiently as you open the door, step inside and gesture for him to enter.

“What do you want, Santiago?” You ask, shutting the door. Technically your tone was mellow, but there was something about the sentence itself that made his smug expression fall.

“What are you doing that for?” He asks.

“Doing what?” You ask, eying him weirdly as you set down your keys and take off your jacket.

“You know what. What are you upset about?” He pries.

You straighten up, tipping your head back to look at him straight on.

The elephant in the room was right there, and yet here he was asking you, what you had to be upset about like he himself hadn’t chosen to go dark for an entire week and three and half days— not that you were counting.

Although you were.

Going about your days like the family and friends trip to Miami didn’t happen last May.

Like all the glances and tension that was brewing between you and Santiago that entire year didn’t lead up to him fucking you in a beach shower at 5pm, on a Tuesday, didn’t lead to you having to keep the biggest secret you’d ever endeavored to take on.

No one could know, he’d told you.

And you weren’t fucking stupid, of course they couldn’t.

But no one didn’t just mean your mom or dad, who’d lose their minds, and more than likely relieve Santiago of his if they found out how long you’d been “seeing” one another.

No one also pertained to your childhood, college and online friends. It entailed your lab partners in Advanced Inorganic Chemistry, the girl who always gave you extra whipped cream and caramel at the campus Starbucks since you were a sophomore— and even the family cat, Feek.

When you got into this, whatever this was, you’d thought you were gaining something.

Something fun and exciting, something that kept you up at night from how giddy you were. And if you were being honest, for a little while, you’d thought you were gaining him. Even if you knew you couldn’t really be together, you’d thought— well, you don’t even know anymore.

You’d just hoped he’d at least show up for you more. And instead, he pulled away.

Santiago put more time into Kim, the woman he’d been seeing on and off since you were ten. The one he took on showy trips to the Bahamas and brought to all the special occasions as his plus one when it’d be too weird to attend alone.

‘Just for the photos.’ he’d said. ‘If people see me with her, then they wouldn’t think even in their wildest dreams that I was with you.’ He’d continued.

Eventually you stopped bringing it up. That’s how a lot of things went with him it seemed. He’d settle on one answer and that’s what he’d stick to. Not once would he divert or slip up— things just were, no matter how unsatisfied you were with his replies.

Though, you weren’t granted that same privilege it seemed.

“Mi amor,” He says walking closer to where you stood by the breakfast bar. Amor. Love— Santiago never could say it in English. And it always felt like he’d made a point of it not to. “What are you upset about?”

You scoff, effectively rolling your eyes and slipping past him to walk down the hall to your room. “Oh, there’s a list of things. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to get to them all, even if I tried to, Santiago.” Your voice echoes in the barrer space, he follows.

And just as you reach to open the door handle, his hand rests on top of your own— keeping you locked there in the darkened space, his chest to your back. His chin ghosting over your left shoulder.

You try to even your breathing as he makes you soak in the silence before breaking it, “I know you.” He says evenly, out of all the things he could say. And his right hand that rests against your hip begins picking at the hem of your burgundy knit long sleeve.

“I know you keep a lot of this hidden. A lot of things go unsaid between us, and I thought we were both okay, with that. But if you’re not, how can I know if you don’t let me in on what it is you’re letting stew in that little head of yours.”

Your hand grasping the doorknob tightens against the metal as he speaks, your fingers beginning to shake under his.

You rest your forehead against the painted white wood, exhaling heavily through your nose as he keeps you pressed to him. And vaguely you acknowledge how ironic this moment in time is—

You, reaching the door of something, maybe it was the future. One without him and all his empty promises. One where you were free to see whoever and share them with whomever you pleased.

And him, stopping you. Holding on to you and this shitty situation like it isn’t absolute madness.

Didn’t he go day by day antagonizing over this too? Didn’t he share in the thought that this was pure torture?

‘Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?’ You think. ‘You’ve made me feel like everyone I could trust was an inside spy, waiting for one damn slip up to crucify me for.’

‘I’m protecting you, and I’m lonelier than ever.’

‘You’re holding me and I hate how you’re all I’ve got left that feels like home.’

You couldn’t say those things. And he didn’t want to know them, not really.

“Why won’t you let me go?” You ask, taking a shaky inhale.

Santiago doesn’t answer right away, undoubtedly getting your true meaning.

“Do you want me to?” He asks finally, quiet. Waiting.

“I,” Your voice cracks before everything becomes too much and you’re turning in his grasp to look at him.

Could the truth fix everything in this instance?

If you told him, ‘It’s about you not being honest? It’s about you sleeping with whoever you want but acting like a scorned child when I do the same? Ignoring my texts for weeks at a time, and showing up at my apartment at odd hours of the night whenever it suits you?’

But what was the point of wasting your breath when you knew it’d turn into a futile argument that changed nothing.

It’d end the same way regardless, with him dismantling all your lines of defense with a look, with a touch, and a kiss.

With him fucking you into your sheets with your nails clawing into his back, until your throat is hoarse and your vision is skewed with tears. That’s how he seemed to like you best anyway— responsive to his smallest whim and wholly compliant.

So as always, you don’t speak, you don’t push the limits. And he rewards you for it, whether or not he knows it. By bringing you into his arms, holding you close and skipping the fight altogether.

“My pretty girl. Smart girl.” He says running his fingers along your face now, looking into your eyes, and you take the opportunity to search his. If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, what would you find if you looked into his?

Right now. If you were being honest. You saw nothing. But did that say more about you, or him?

Maybe you lacked whatever it took to catch a glimpse of whatever a person’s true nature was but as he cups your face with one hand, you abandon the thought. It was better not to think.

“I’m here now, so just… be with me.” He says it so softly he’s almost whispering. Leaning in til your noses touch.

“Santiago.” Comes out raspy, your voice strained by nerves and excess emotion.

“Nuh-uh.” He interjects, softly tilting your head back til it makes contact with the closed door behind you. Nosing at the slope of your neck, he keeps his eyes on your face as he rubs his lips along your cold skin. “None of that. Say it properly.”

“I don’t know what you’re—“ And you’re interrupted by the way he pinches at your clit through the fabric of your jeans, quick to cradle the back of your head to prevent you from hurting yourself when you throw it back.

“Still don’t know, do you?” He asks eyeing you with a glint forming in his eye as you shook your head. “No?”

He begins undoing your pants with one hand, pulling your underwear and bottoms down just enough so that they sit just above your thighs, before placing your cunt on full display for him. “What’s it going to take to get that little attitude of yours in check? Hm?”

His thumb rubs over your clit once, slow and purposeful as you keen in his grasp. “What am I going to have to do? Fuck it out of you?”

At those words, he begins rubbing the pad of his middle finger in your arousal. Pressing slowly into you fully before pulling back and when he pushes forward again, this time it’s with two fingers that have you quietly gasping at the intrusion.

Your cunt wets his fingers all to quickly, you’re leaning into his touch as he fucks you open, one overwhelmingly patient pump at a time.

With a beckoning motion, he massages your spongy walls until he locates the spot that causes you to buck into his hand. “That’s it.” He purrs, praising you like you were some wild thing he was working to tame.

Your cunt squeezes around him as he introduces a third digit, encouraging you to fuck his fingers with an eager tone. Slick rolling down his wrist in reflective streaks. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Give it to me, mi amor. You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You nodded foggily as he upped his pace, your hands shooting forward to grasp futilely at his immovable wrist, his hand becoming a blur as he propelled you closer and closer towards an edge you couldn’t see but could feel fast approaching from all angles. Your moans rise in pitch, voice cracking as he works at an unyielding speed.

“Say my name, baby. All you have to do is say it and I’ll let you cum on my fingers nice, long and hard.” He murmurs, brows raised expectantly. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

“F-fuck, Santiago!” Comes out jumbled and whiny, your face buried into the side of his neck when suddenly his hand comes to an immediate standstill.

He laughs humorlessly, pulling out of you completely. A cry is promptly ripped from your lips when he lands a clean, wet slap square against your clit. The swollen bud pulsating as he ignores your whines.

Grasping your face in his palm, he smears your arousal along your cheeks as he forces you to look at him through hooded eyes bordered with tears. He searches your gaze for a moment, unbelieving amusement vaguely lining his features as he looks over you.

“Hmm.” He takes a moment to hum and haw, as if what he finds is in line with whatever he had thought. “Fucking it is.”

Making quick work of yanking your pants down your legs, he haphazardly tosses the material on the floor. His belt clinks as he unbuckles it, unzipping his jeans with one confident pull of his wrist.

He doesn’t bother removing his own bottoms completely, instead holding your unsteady gaze as you watch him pull his cock through the opening he’d made for himself. Grabbing a hold of your left thigh, he hooks your leg over his hip.

Fitting you against him, he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit, spreading his precum across your folds.

“You can be difficult with me, baby. I have all the time in the world for you.” He says in a tone so sweet, your brows furrow and lips press into a fine lined pout. His eyes soften at the way your expression crumples.

“Pobrecita,” He coos, peppering kisses across your face, against your cheeks, and nose, and eyelids— wherever he felt so inclined. You balled your hands into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as he began pushing inside of you.

You release a faint sob, his cock filling you to the hilt when tears begin streaming down your cheeks in angry droplets.

“What is it, bebita? Talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t let me in.” He mumbles into your skin, pulling his head up to rest his forehead against yours. His hips rocking slowly as ugly emotions rolled through your chest.

“Why—“ You suck in a big breath of air in between hiccups. “Why don’t you ever tell me you love me?”

His eyes are deep, chocolatey and steady when he speaks. “I tell you. I tell you all the time.” He says, bringing a hand up to card his fingers through your hair.

“In Spanish!” You argue unhappily, eyelashes matted together with tears, cheeks watermarked. “You tell me in Spanish, Santiago.”

“You think I don’t mean it?” He asks evenly.

“You don’t say it.” You insist.

Releasing a sigh, he leans closer, his lips ghosting against yours. “Te amo.” He whispers, low, just for you to hear. It was a sentiment only for your ears as he thrusts in and out of you in slow, meaningful drags.

“Te amo.” He says again, kissing you softly, the words being almost spoken into your mouth.

“Te amo.” Santiago repeats with another kiss before pulling back to look into your eyes, sparing one hand to cup your chin. “I love you.”

Your bottom lip trembles, from finally hearing the words, from how gently he looks at you. “I love you, Santi. I love you.”

A smile breaks onto his face as he leans in to capture your mouth again. Only parting after he’d thoroughly taken your breath away, leaving your chest heaving in his departure. “I know, babygirl.”

[radiowallet]

I Can

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter and Marcus meet a second time. WC: 4K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists, handjob, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, a smidge of edging. Mentions of food and drug use. Small angsty moments. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy).

A/N: A Saturday night fic drop? Why not? I'm literally just a chaos demon at this point. Big thanks to @writer-wednesday for this prompt and for inspiring me to revisit my boys (and basically create a whole entire universe for them). This is a follow-up to my random little drabble You Can. I have wanted to revisit these boys for so long and when the inspiration struck, I couldn't help but run with it. Thank you to my beloved @jazzelsaur and @magpie-to-the-morning for listening and encouraging every unhinged thought inside my head. The very best of enablers.

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

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Dieter refuses to spend another meal in some stuffy, overpriced hoity-toity bullshit restaurant. Ever since his plane touched down at JFK he’s been dragged from meeting to table read to some supposed ‘life-changing’ meal and back again. Which, okay, there are worse things in life than a $100 dollar plate of food, but the pretentiousness of it all was starting to eat away at him. 

And the problem with the meals in particular is that even if they were somehow able to change the trajectory of his life, there were only so many tiny portions of shaved truffle caviar foie bullshit he could eat. 

No. Tonight he needs something else. Cheese, and bread, and beef. Something warm and comforting and covered in just a touch too much grease. Something he can purchase with a 20-dollar bill and bring back to his hotel room to eat while he watches something trashy on television, before downing an edible or two, and jerking himself off until he passed out. 

Marissa, thankfully, was a manager who knew when he had hit his limit. She waved him away with only two reminders of his call time for tomorrow and a promise to send a car. Dieter half mumbled his acknowledgment before slipping out of the lobby that housed one of the many studios he had met with that day, turning left and disappearing into the crowded streets of downtown Manhattan. 

This was Dieter’s favorite part of the city. Sure, it was too loud. Too busy. Too bright. But hiding in plain sight? That became easy. Even in his most outlandish of outfits he blended in, able to make the walk to his hotel in relative peace. 

He passes a myriad of carts on his way, each one smelling better than the last. He’s not sure what he’s craving, but Dieter is positive he’ll know it when he sees it. The sun has completely set by the time he turns the corner, the city lights guiding him towards the Park Hyatt just up ahead. And there, across the street, was a cart, neon signs for gyros and knish calling to him. 

The line was only one man deep by the time he jaywalked his way over, the street light shining down like a spotlight, catching the actor’s attention almost immediately. Dieter stops short at the sight of him, the breadth of his shoulders and cut of his jaw enough to drag up a memory that has his toes curling and his belly swooping low. The memory of a frustrated frown shifting into a soft smile, brown eyes wide beneath thick glasses, a kiss that should have lasted a lot longer than it did. 

He’s traded the tux from that night in for a black leather jacket and a pair of dark wash jeans, his head bent low, glasses slipping down the slope of his nose. Dieter smiles, stepping in line with a little more bounce in his step, his lips caught between his teeth, his appetite suddenly shifting. It seems he’s finally figured out exactly what it is that he’s been craving. 

— — —

Marcus doesn’t really know how he feels about New York. He thinks maybe in another life he would hate it; one where he had a family at home waiting for him, someone to share the day-to-day mundane things with after all the superhero crap was put to bed. He probably would have pulled every string in the book to bring along this hypothetical family, and that thought alone takes his mood from sour to rancid. As it was, home, New York, Paris. It hardly mattered. He just wanted to wrap up the last of this press tour shit and get back to the real work. 

There was only one more round of interviews tomorrow, most of them with the entire team. God willing, he could get away with a few quick answers and then nod along as the rest of the Heroics did the heavy lifting. 

He was supposed to be out with the team right now. Drinks and dinner that he had (sort of) politely begged off, content with something hot and cheap to eat in the solitude of his hotel room. The smells from the Greek-themed cart had been calling to him since he first walked out of the Hyatt earlier that day and he was intent on stuffing his face full before passing out to the sound of some trashy reality show playing in the background. 

He’s just starting to rationalize ordering one of everything, the Heroics Amex card already in the palm of his hand when the flick of a lighter and the smell of a cigarette catch his attention from behind. He wants to frown as the smoke invades his senses, the nasty habit once something that turned his stomach. But now all it does is drudge up a memory, almost 6 months old, but still there at the back of his mind; a dimpled grin and a searing kiss that left him aching. 

He breathes in deep, letting the smell fill his lungs, humming at the bitter taste that coats his tongue. If he closes his eyes, he swears can almost feel the warmth of a breath on his neck, a man much too free for Marcus to keep, but who he wanted to anyway. 

A loud cough yanks him back to reality, a gentle nudge urging him forward. 

“Your turn, Heroic.”

Normally the call out would make his skin crawl, a signal to the beginning of either a very uncomfortable fan encounter or a 20-minute lecture on the interference of government sanctioned vigilantes. But the tone of the man is neither fawning nor judgmental, instead a teasing warmth that almost feels familiar. Marcus turns, an apology on the tip of his tongue and….

“It’s you.”

Dieter Bravo smiles around the cigarette dangling from his lips, all teeth and dimples and Hollywood charm, just as Marcus remembers. 

“And it’s you.” 

— — —

They end up ordering enough for two small armies, both men overtipping the patient cart owner enough that he promptly starts closing up shop the second they step away with their food. Marcus shrugs, the bag held tight to his chest, compelled to offer an explanation that Dieter didn’t ask for. 

“Superhero metabolism.”  

“I get it,” Dieter hums, wanting to put the other man at ease. It’s clear he’s wound just a bit too tight, the pressure of whatever responsibilities he carries with him not so much weighing him down as they do hold him up. Dieter thinks, assumes, the joy of being a hero left Marcus Moreno far too long ago, and he wonders if he could help him save just a tiny piece of it. Or at the very least get the man to smile once before they part ways again.

“I’m up for this gladiator thing. I have a feeling once I get back to L.A. it’s going to be all protein shakes and boiled chicken and green-colored juice. Probably best to indulge while I have the chance.”

Marcus frowns, shaking his head. “That’s not right. Starving yourself to hit some sort of stupid unattainable body image that was set by others.”

“Yeah,” Dieter hums, poking Marcus in one of his firm shoulders. “Can’t imagine what that’s like.”

The other man blushes and shakes his head. “Mine’s mostly genetics. Which…hearing out loud just makes me sound like an ass.”

“Mmm, I actually think your ass could use a bit of work,” Dieter clicks his tongue, eyes drifting around to Marcus’s backside. 

His blush only darkens, and Dieter can’t help but delight in the reaction. “I’ll be okay, Heroic. All par for the course! Besides, it’s a 6-month shoot in Morocco. It’s been ages since I’ve been back there.” 

“Oh, well…if you need help…I mean before you leave. Shit. I’m pretty handy in the gym, I mean,” he stammers out, hands clinging tighter to the greasy brown bag in his hands.

“Do superheroes make house calls?”

Marcus grinds his jaw to the left, his eyes shifting as far from Dieter’s as they can, but the blush remains.  “If it’s something important.”

— — —

They’re staying in the same hotel. It shouldn’t surprise Marcus. Honestly, nothing should at this point, serendipitous coincidence managing to bring the two men together again despite all odds. They cross the street side by side, the doorman quick to open the door with a nod and a wave. Their steps echo through a seemingly empty lobby, most of the hotel guests having stepped out, their nights just getting started. 

Dieter moves easily, the hand holding his food swinging back and forth in time with his steps. His jaws works effortlessly at the piece of gum he traded with the cigarette he had been puffing at, the tip of it crushed into the side of the hotel perfectly in time with their entrance. Marcus watches from the corner of his eye, admiring the way the other man moves, as if he’s dancing, each movement as fluid as the last. 

The actor chatters beside him, an endless barrage of words that would be easy to write off as nonsense but despite that, Marcus finds himself listening with rapt attention. The actor talks about his meetings tomorrow, a chemistry read he hasn’t quite prepared for, an interview with Variety magazine scheduled directly after. Then he talks about the painting he had started before he left L.A. How he hopes the inspiration is still with him when he gets home. 

By the time they get on the elevator, their shoulders brushing in the tight space, Marcus knows the type of bike Dieter owns (a 10-speed he likes to ride down to the pier), how he likes his toast (just shy of burnt, butter and jelly), and his plans for the night (food, edible, jerking off). 

Marcus had even been caught up in the moment briefly, his own surprise at seeing the other man loosening his tongue just as it had all those months ago. He had stammered and stuttered in a way that he hadn’t since high school. He can’t seem to decide if he should be embarrassed or not, so he settles for quiet instead, only muttering his floor number once the elevator doors slide shut. 

Dieter eyes him over his shoulder, the flecks of grey in the scruff of his jaw illuminated in the low light and mirrored walls. He leans closer, just enough to nudge Marcus’s shoulder, his smile slipping into something more tentative, mint and menthol and something sweet hypnotizing the heroic. He can’t help but match the other man’s movement, leaning in and licking his lips, trying to capture the taste on his tongue. Dieter doesn’t miss it, brown eyes flickering to Marcus’s lips and back again. 

“Would you like some company?” 

— — —

They ultimately decide to go to Dieter’s room, a joke about seeing the Penthouse tilting the actor’s grin to just this side of wolfish. Marcus is instantly drawn to windows, stretching from floor to ceiling, the whole city lit up, a glaring shine just beyond the glass. 

“It seems brighter from up here.” 

“The lights are so bright but they blind me,” Dieter sings beneath his breath, spreading out the food with careful dedication. 

Marcus smiles at the sound of his voice, marveling at the sudden domestic turn his night has taken before placing his attention back on the skyline. Dieter moves around the couch to join him, carrying that same intoxicating smell with him. 

“Haven’t you seen it from rooftops?”

Marcus shakes his head, eyes still glued to the sparkling spectacle in front of him. “The world looks too dark from that angle.” 

Dark. Or Ugly. Honest. Yeah, Marcus can see everything from the rooftops, but none of it glittered. Not like this. Not like Dieter Bravo. 

The tip of a finger, softer than he expected, touches his chin, the pressure light but insistent, impossible to ignore. He turns to find Dieter watching him, brown eyes reflecting the city stars back at Marcus, and he fights the urge to blink and miss what comes next. They move in together, almost close enough but not, and Dieter laughs, a soft chuckle that rumbles in his chest. 

It reminds Marcus of that first kiss, so very long ago, down a dark alleyway, both of them pretending, for just a moment. He takes in a breath, a quick pull of air that steadies his nerves, before finally, finally, closing the last of the distance between them. 

The kiss is soft at first, a brush of lips and a scrape of stubble. It’s faint, the sweetest shade of something new between the press of their lips, the taste of mint and menthol permeating his senses. Marcus can’t help but take one more, letting his lips linger on Dieter’s, his hands fitting perfectly along the dip of the other man’s hips. 

It’s Dieter who deepens it, one palm sliding along the curve of Marcus’s cheek, the other grabbing where his leather jacket hangs open, fingers clenched into the fabric and yanking him closer. It’s the slip of a tongue between his lips that breaks him, a moan parting Marcus’s lips, the sound only encouraging Dieter to continue. 

The hand on his hips pushes him back gently, one, two, three steps before they stop. Marcus pulls away to catch his breath but Dieter keeps him close, soothing the pad of his thumb across the flush of his skin. 

“I missed you, baby.”

He wants to laugh, to point out it was just one kiss, and how? How could he miss him when he barely even knows him? But the endearment has him dizzy, the roof of his mouth tacky with desire, and all he can do is nod because yes. Of course, Marcus missed him too. What else was there to do but miss him? 

He swoops in for another kiss, this time meeting Dieter’s tongue with his own, tasting him full on and groaning into the feeling. The noise seems to startle something awake in the other man, the grip on his cheek growing tight, his own strangled whine rising up the column of his throat. 

When the kiss breaks, Dieter leans in, the scratch of his mustache rough where he hums his request in Marcus’s ear. “Can I take you to bed?”

“It’s been a while,” he can’t help but blurt out, pulling back to watch Dieter’s face carefully, preparing himself for the laughter and the teasing. “Almost 2 years.”

Still, Dieter doesn’t say anything, and Marcus can’t help but explain himself just a little bit more. “Most people can’t handle it.” 

Marcus hates to say it. Hates the way it sounds and feels and tastes, the words bitter and biting on his own ears. The harsh, unrelenting truth that what he is will always be overwhelming for those that dare to love him. That the painful responsibilities that were forced upon by the realities of his genetics will always be the barrier around his heart. Most days it was easy enough to ignore, and in the time since had last felt another’s touch, Marcus had found a way to cope, where loneliness was just another weight he would bear in order to do what was right.  

Dieter nods, eyes wide and frown small, an equal mix of understanding and pity marked across his features, as if to say ‘yeah, people can be assholes.’ 

And then he actually says it. “Assholes.” 

There’s another kiss and then another, their bodies moving slowly back towards the couch. Dieter's fingers are skilled, pushing and pulling, Marcus’s leather coat hitting the ground seconds before his own. Those same fingers find their way beneath his shirt, mapping the planes of his stomach, the quiver of muscle chasing Dieter’s touch. 

Marcus can only cling to the other man, refusing to part from their kiss for more than a second, breath traded back and forth, the only oxygen he ever needed between Dieter’s lips. His touch is insistent, smoothing at his heated skin, fingers digging into the flesh, the almost bite of his nails leaving Marcus gasping high and bright into their kiss. His glasses are pulled off somewhere in the fray, finding a home on the floor behind them. 

“The …t-the bed?”

“Figured I’d take it easy on you,” Dieter grins in time with Marcus’s knees bending around the couch cushions.

They fall down together, Dieter immediately crowding into Marcus, his large hand palming where he strains beneath his jeans while he takes care to kiss each and every freckle scattered across Marcus’s. His hips buck immediately, even the gentle touch enough to send him lurching. Dieter is quick to soothe him, teeth nipping at his ear as he coos sweetly, the press of his hand only growing more insistent.

“Patience, baby. We have time.”

There it is again. That little endearment. Sweet and small, and so so much that Marcus can only moan, head falling into the crook of Dieter’s neck. Somewhere above him there is a chuckle, the sound vibrating from one man to the other, and Marcus can only hold on tighter as Dieter tugs at the zipper of his jeans. His breath hitches as the sound of it echoes inside his head, and he feels Dieter pause, only the brush of his thumb on the head of his leaking cock ground them to this moment. 

Later, Dieter will confess, sweat cooling on Marcus’s temple, the actor's lips kissing the slick of it away, that he was watching him carefully at that moment. Desperate to see him fall apart, anxious to know if he needed to pull back. It’s then that they promise to say it. Always say it. Exactly what they need and what they want. 

Secrets have never done either man any good. 

Marcus leans into the light touch, awkward and needy, lips fusing to the curve of Dieter’s neck. There’s the musk of his cologne, something earthy and real clinging to his senses, mixing with the smell of smoke that always seems to burn around the other man’s edges. Marcus is ravenous for him, marking him with a bruising kiss, the steady chant of mine, mine, I wish he was mine thumping inside his chest. 

Dieter doesn’t falter, pulling Marcus’s aching length from the confines of his jeans, a loose grip around the base as he continues to stroke the tip softly, gathering the bead of precum with the pad of his thumb. It’s more intimate than he expected, reputations always proceeding those in the limelight. Marcus should have known better, the camera always giving away more falsehoods than beautiful truths. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” Dieter teases, not an ounce of cruelty in the words. Another kiss is gifted to Marcus’s neck, the drag of Dieter’s tongue follows, his own groan pouring out of him. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. I promise.”

The effect of his words is maddening, and Marcus takes care to muffle his whine into Dieter’s neck, teeth and tongue still working along the salt of his skin. The actor is only encouraged by this, continuing to purr little drops of filthy encouragement into his ear as he starts to stroke Marcus from base to tip. 

“Been too long since someone made you feel this good,” he hums, twisting his wrist lightly each time he strokes up the length of Marcus’s cock, the velvet heat of his skin catching on the other man’s palm. The friction is almost too much, a staggering sort of gasp breaking past his lips as Dieter’s voice continues to coach him through each and every stroke of his hand. 

“You look so good like this, baby. So good. You can fuck my hand if you want. Go on, use your hips.” 

The prompt is all Marcus needs, his hips canting up to meet Dieter’s touch. His fingers dig in hard, one hand finding purchase on Dieter’s forearm, the other wrapped around the curve of his shoulder. He anchors himself to the other man, fucking up into his fist faster and faster and faster still. 

“Feel good? Hmm?” Dieter asks, the hook of his nose pressed into Marcus’s temple, lips teasing the swell of his cheek. “Fucking someone else’s hand instead of your own?” 

Marcus stutters out a ‘yes’ the word lost between his cries of pleasure. Dieter continues to indulge in the noises, each one helping to shift the weight of his touch, the grip around Marcus’s cock soft then hard, the pressure building faster than he can take in breaths. He tilts his head, eyes searching frantically, a desperate plea tumbling from his lips and hanging thick in the air between them.

“Kiss me.”

And Dieter does, lips molding to Marcus’s, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam until finally, he parts beneath, another moan for him to swallow. All the while, his pace is consistent, up and down, faster then slower then faster again. It’s indulgent, the way Dieter touches him, relishing in each pulse, every sound, and Marcus loses track of how long it’s really been. The pleasure is blinding, keeping him tethered to the edge of the cliff, release blissfully out of reach.

“Bet you look so pretty, all cock dumb, hmm? I’d love to see that,” Dieter teases and Marcus agrees, can only agree, something ragged taking over his sensibilities. 

He continues to move with the other man, rising up into the open air, hips awkwardly meeting each and every caress of his hand. Dieter moves with the same freedom he had in the hotel lobby, his own hips grinding up and down, the length of his cock hard and pulsating where it presses into Marcus’s side. Their kisses only grow more wild, just a sloppy press of lips, off-centered and well-intentioned, as they both work closer and closer to the crest of arousal. 

Dieter remains focused, his own pleasure secondary to that of the Heroic’s. The kiss breaks just in time for something white hot to settle at the base of Marcus’s spine, everything grows tight and bright and so so sweet. Teeth scrape along his jaw, the tip of a tongue soothing the same path, Dieter’s words coaxing him up to the top of the hill. 

“You’re close, baby. So close. Go on, you can let go. I’m right here.”

It’s all Marcus needs, the last of his strength giving out as everything burns, thick ropes of white cum spilling out of him. Dieter hums, using his seed to smooth out his strokes, and continues to whisper little bits of praise into Marcus’s ear.

“I know. I know, baby. You’re doing so good. Tell me if it’s too much.”

It is. It is too much, the way Dieter keeps stroking his cock, half hard and still dribbling drops of cum around the curl of his fist. But Marcus refuses to stop him, leaning into the painful overstimulation until the tips of his fingers go numb, his moans breaking out into sobs, tears tracking down his cheeks to mix with his sweat. Dieter decides for them both then, his hand finally slowing, giving Marcus a chance to adjust to the light touch before pulling away for good, the palm of his hand sliding a sticky trail up his cheek.

It should feel filthy, Marcus’s own cum pressed into his skin while Dieter grinds his cum soaked pants into the dip of his hips. But even now, Marcus can feel his cock twitch in interest, the moment so very decadent and dirty and leaving him hungry for more. Dieter grins, licking his lips, clearly agreeing with whatever look that is crossing Marcus’s features, swooping in for one more kiss, this one there and gone, a fleeting breath of him that leaves him whining. 

But Dieter doesn’t go far, his hand smoothing up to push back an errant curl, brown eyes impossibly deep, and he takes his time to kiss away each and every tear. When he pulls away, it’s only to whisper a quiet promise. “I can.”

Marcus tilts his head, his confusion unspoken, the haze of his orgasm still gripping tight to his senses. Dieter takes it in stride, his smile growing, confident and cocky with how dumb he’s rendered the heroic. 

“I can handle it,” he clarifies, dragging his hand down to rest his thumb where Marcus’s lips part, the faintest taste of himself waiting there. “Can you?”

And all Marcus can do is nod. Because. Yes. Of course. Of course, he can. What other answer is there? 

----------------

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Dedications:

To my dearest, my wonderful enablers @jazzelsaur and @magpie-to-the-morning who have listened to me talk about these boys ALL. WEEK. Literally, every random thought I had about Dieter and Marcus, together or separate, was blasted into their DM's. I have become a woman possessed. The best friends a girl could ask for in these trying fandom times. Thank you both, for loving me and my boys.

[altschmerzes]

Gav, do you have anymore wriggle up on dry land holiday thoughts to share? I've been thinking non stop about the snippets you posted, the idea of the holiday season being a bit of a jolt to Jamie's standing in his new family unit in his own mind is haunting me

oh yeah i think about this sorta thing ALLLLLL THE TIME it's like... i haven't thought too much about holidays in particular but things like that being a jolt to jamie's standing in his new family unit in his own mind is a great way to put it. it's deeply destabilizing for him every time he encounters something like that, something that makes him think about it and ask himself those questions directly - who am i to them, what is my place here, how long will it last, how much can i take, how much say do i get, etc.

and a BIG one in there is uncle's day, actually, speaking of holidays :) bc i'm keeping that part from season 3 though it's obviously a little different.

this is from when i was talking to another friend (thanks to @jamietxrtt this time, another prominent and beloved enabler of me generally and this au in particular) about the way that like. roy has a hard time with referring to james as jamie's dad when he's thinking about the man at all, because in his mind, that's ted now, and that's something ted earned. (and it's a little bit roy, too. there's a whole like- he's not Jamie's Dad the way that ted is but he very much is Jamie's Parent, and the distinction is a little odd and difficult to articulate but it's very similar to how he feels about phoebe, he's not her dad but he is her parent, etc. but it's still like...... when he thinks about what a father, what a dad ought to be, he feels that inside himself more than he could ever give it to james.)

which led to like. phoebe is the one who articulates this better and before anyone else can, and that's part of the uncle's day thing, which happens when jamie is seventeen and has been living with ted (and has had a room at roy's) for going on a year. when phoebe and sarah are arranging it, phoebe insists jamie has to come, because “he’s your uncle roy too” and jamie is like :? he is not.

and she sighs and rolls her eyes like little kids do when they think you’re being dense, and she’s like noooo i don’t mean he’s your UNCLE but he’s your UNCLE ROY just like he’s my uncle AND he’s my uncle roy and jamie is like. you’re gonna have to explain this one to me in a lot more words half pint.

and she sighs again and goes well. some kids at my school have a mummy and a daddy or two mummies or two daddies or just a mummy or just a daddy or one of my friends has a mummy and a parent - she pronounces this very deliberately - which is cool. AND my friend cecily has THREE mums and a dad because HER parents got DIVORCED and then they both got married again so she has FOUR parents which is NOT FAIR. anyways. i don’t have a mummy and a daddy or any of that. i have a mummy and an uncle roy. he isn’t my daddy but he’s my uncle roy, get it? and jamie nods bc he thinks he actually does get it yes.

and she goes okay. so you’ve got a daddy. that’s coach ted. but you’ve also got uncle roy. because he’s not your daddy and he’s not your uncle but he’s your uncle roy. get it?

and jamie, who is just about on the verge of tears now, nods again because yeah. He Gets It Now.

[barlowstreet]

I am so fucking proud of you! May I ask how your group project ended up going?

Thank you!!!

Honestly yeah I have tea, let's spill.

Under a cut for long math drama because WOW that a whole thing

Alright, so for anyone who missed it, the group project assignment was fairly simple. It was literally just pick an article about mathematical modeling (he suggested using covid 19 as a topic), read it, present our findings to our class. Four people in my group, 10 minute long at most presentation, could have all probably be done in 30 minutes, right? We started this March 20th and it was due April 10th, today.

I picked the article, sent it to my group partners, they were like "yeah sure that works". I set up a word document through office 365 which we all have access to through our school that we could all just put our notes in and I put my part in March 20th. And then I took a whole bunch of cold medication because that was when I was sick.

Then no one did anything. I emailed them again reminding them, hey, we do gotta do this April 5th. The one girl did hers that day. The guy in my group did his April 7th. I also made a powerpoint at that point because I was like "I am not just talking to the camera here, I need a prop". (I get camera shy and do a lot better if I have props.)

The other girl in my group? The last email I got from her was never. She never replied to a single one of my emails. We talked in class once in a breakout room, where I said "I will email you all, I have no voice and am very sick and it's probably easier to just use email" and she was like, "Yeah, sounds good." So to be clear, she knew I was going to email her.

I get to class today and the guy in my group is not there. Okay, sure, fine, one of us can read his part. GirlA messages me in the zoom chat and is like "did GirlB ever send you anything?" and I have to be like, "No. I have a slide with just her name on it, do we want to just be petty and pause on it for a moment when we get there?" and she was like "Yeah tbh she didn't reply to any of our emails and do any work, what else do we do".

(Meanwhile we were talking about grades and GirlB asks the instructor why he never gave her a time slot to do one of our quizzes. It was a take home quiz. He said that SEVERAL times in class but I suspect she isn't actually there a decent amount, she just opens the zoom link and does other things. But our classes are recorded. Watch the recording at least?)

And then GirlB messages me. At 7:25pm. And says, "I sent you my notes."

My class, I will tell anyone who doesn't know, is 6:30pm to 9:30pm. We were in class. Other people were presenting, and I'm frantically adding things to the powerpoint presentation that I made. AND she somehow didn't actually change the online version of the powerpoint (because I enabled editing for that too) so she had to send it to me.

And she sent it as a PDF.

Anyways, me and GirlA sounded like we knew what we were talking about. I fake being good at speaking well and she made a good joke that made her seem a little more relaxed. I will say that the other girl did send me a couple of diagrams which made things look nice, but she really struggled with presenting it and sounded very awkward.

Oh and the guy showed up literally in the middle of our presentation, which, you know, I'll take since I didn't have to present his part.

We sorta could tell that GirlB handed in a bunch of assignments technically late and her grade was probably Not Good so honestly the fact that we all got 100% on the presentation probably did her a lot of good.

And I swear to god, most of it is because people are impressed by powerpoint. GirlA, when we were gossiping, she thanked me for doing "all that work" on the powerpoint when, like, it took me 10 minutes because I downloaded a vaguely math-y looking powerpoint theme XD So, life lesson, a good looking powerpoint presentation will take you a long way.

[juiceinpanties]

10 Things You Hate About Eddie Munson, pt 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/afab!reader

Rating(s): Chapter: E; Fic: E

Tags: eventual smut, penetrative sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), fingering, subbie!Eddie, masturbation (m and f), fake dating, van sex, secret relationship, antagonistic relationship to friendship to lovers, casual sex, not-so-casual sex, phone sex, drunk reader

Summary: Your best friend, Nancy Wheeler, is absolutely dying to date Steve Harrington, but her parents have the weirdest rule: Nancy can't date until her friends (e.g., you) do. Nancy begs you to date someone, anyone, and eventually you agree. Meanwhile Steve offers to pay Eddie "the freak" Munson to ask you out. What could possibly go wrong??

Notes: This is, quite obviously, a 10 Things I Hate About You au, with a slight twist. Throw in some fake dating, a 90s setting, and here we are. Thanks to @tonybourdain​ for dragging me in and continuing to enable me. She helped me entirely rewrite the pone scene because it WAS NOT WORKING as it was.

Please note the tags. Smut ahoy!!

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog! Completely blank blogs that just like will be blocked because I'm gonna assume you're a bot. I've been here a long time.

In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

You can’t stop thinking about Eddie.

It’s nearly 10pm. Homework is done, dinner is eaten, excuse is made to parents about why you left school after lunch. And you can’t stop thinking about Eddie Munson and his wide cow eyes and his soft, yummy lips and his big, gentle hands.

It’s like freshman year all over again. At least this time you’re not scribbling his name in your notebook with little hearts everywhere.

You change into your usual sleep uniform of panties and a t shirt and fall back into bed. Maybe you can read for a while, get him off your mind so that you can sleep.

That lasts about 20 minutes. Ugh. This is exactly why you don’t date! You’re far too busy to worry about dumb boys! You toss your book aside and run downstairs for a snack.

You’re on your way back to your room, granola bar in one hand and glass of milk in the other, when you head your private line ringing. You mutter a curse and run to catch it.

“Hello!” you say, breathlessly.

“Hello, did I interrupt something?” It’s Eddie.

You roll your eyes. “Me, running away from you.”

“Haha. Geez you’re so mean.”

“Uh huh. Hang on.” You put the phone down and shut your bedroom door, then climb back into bed and grab the phone again. “Okay, hi. What’s up?”

He grins and plops down on his bed. “I wanted to ask about tomorrow.”

“Hm?” You unwrap your granola bar, but then realize you can’t eat it while talking to him, so you set it aside and sip your milk instead.

“Tutoring? Did you forget?”

“Of course not. I’m just wondering what questions you have.”

He fiddles with the blanket. Maybe this was a mistake. He doesn’t actually have any questions about tomorrow; he just couldn’t stop thinking about you and wanted to hear your voice.

“Uhhh oh! What should I bring?”

You make a face. “Your chem book. Pens and paper. Your brain.”

“Cool, glad you mentioned the last one. Probably woulda forgot.”

You giggle just a little. “Blood flow issues again?”

“Ha,” he says on a breath. “Not right this second, but it’s definitely possible.” He pauses and drums his fingers against his thigh. “So, uh. How’s your evening been?”

“Fine,” you say. “My parents got a call from the school, but I think I calmed them down.”

“Oh shit that’s good. Can’t believe you ruined your perfect attendance record for me.”

“Uh huh, I’m turning into a juvenile delinquent. Cutting class to make out with Eddie Munson in the back of his van.”

"Hey, I just invited you for fries! You kissed me first."

"So I did," you say. "I guess I'm a sucker for pouty lips and big brown eyes."

"My lips are not pouty!"

"Mhmm, sure they are."

"Hmmph," he snorts. "If mine are yours are too. Big, soft, pretty lips. Big, bright eyes." He lets out a long breath. “I can’t stop thinking about you, pretty girl.”

You blush and shift in your seat. Pull the sheet up over your bare legs. His voice is a little low and rougher than usual and it makes you go warm all over. “I was—struggling with something similar,” you admit.

“Oh yeah?” He glances down as a bulge starts to grow in his boxers. Oh geez. Just your voice is doing this! He’s in trouble. He gives it the tiniest stroke with his fingertips.

"Eddie? What was that?" you say as he makes a soft, breathy noise.

"Huh? Oh, uh, nothing." Shit. He's gotta be more careful.

"Hmm." Your bed creaks as you finish off your milk and set the glass aside.

"What was that?" he says with a grin.

"Nothing! I was putting my empty glass on the nightstand."

"Ohhh, I see. Just being a good girl, all tucked in to your bed with your little snack," he says, his voice going rough as he talks. The image is Too Much. He bites off a groan as he rubs his bulge again.

"You okay?" you say. You maybe sort of suspect what that noise was, but surely you're wrong.

"Yeah, yup. I'm good. You?"

You lick your lips. “I want—to kiss you again,” you say. "I mean, if you—would like that. You seemed to like it."

“I’d love that,” he murmurs. “I’d love to be kissing you right now.”

You muffle another giggle. “You could sneak in. You were so good at it last time.”

"That's true! Sneak up to your room, crawl in your bed with you, and...study for chem!"

You laugh and grab your favorite bear from the pile by your bed. Rub your cheek against its soft fur. "Study, huh? What a responsible young man!"

"That's me! Eddie Munson, responsible—young—man." His voice stutters a little as he grips his erection and squeezes.

"Eddie Munson, clearly up to something. What are you doing?"

"I'm—shit. You're suspicious, huh?"

"Mhmm." You run your hand over your chest, across your pebbled nipples. The cotton of your shirt rubs the sensitive skin and you let out a tiny breath.

"Havin' another drink?" he says with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up."

He laughs and pulls his shorts down enough to free his cock. He grips the shaft and runs his thumb over the swollen head. This time he openly lets out a rough breath. "I'll just be quiet," he mumbles. "Just listen to you talk."

"Uh huh," you say. You tug one of your nipples, and then shove your shirt up with an impatient little growl. "As you do what?"

"Nothing. Why, what're you doing?"

"Nothing." You bite your lip around a breath as you continue to play with your extra-sensitive nipples. "What are you working on in chem right now?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Mmmm." He rubs his thumb up and down against the vein on the underside of his cock. Presses against the spot where the head meets the shaft and circles. "Covalent bonds," he manages.

"Oh good." You give up and press a hand between your thighs. You can feel how wet you are through your cotton panties. "I'm fantastic at covalent bonds."

"Uh huh. I just bet you are." He grinds his palm against the tip of his cock and grips it again to stroke the entire length. "What else are you good at, princess?"

You shiver at his tone, the roughness of it. "Lots of things," you breathe.

"God I bet you are."

You give the tiniest moan and shove your panties aside. You run your fingers up and down your dripping slit, over your slick labia. Then you push your fingers into your mouth and suck the taste of yourself off of them.

"What's in your mouth, baby?" he murmurs. "Don't lie."

"My fingers," you whisper.

"Oh? They get all sticky? Something nice and sweet on them?"

"Uh huh!" You feel drunk, dizzy, and if you don't come soon you're going to lose your mind.

He licks his hand and grips his cock again. Gives it several rough tugs before settling in for a slow, easy stroke. "I'd love to taste something sticky and sweet," he says. "Something soft and pink."

He smirks at the sound of your little whimper. Fuckin A he wants you. "Bet you have somethin' like that," he murmurs. "Bet it's just for me."

"Uh huh. A nice yummy snack." You circle your fingers around your clit and bite hard on your lip. "You have anything for me?"

"Oh yeah," he breathes. He strokes faster. "God do I have somethin' for you."

"Good," you say as you wiggle your hips and thrust two fingers into your cunt. "I want it, Eddie. Want to—want—to help you with your—bonds."

"Yeah," he grunts. "Molecules and shit."

"Periodic table!" you gasp as you fuck yourself. You squeeze the phone between your shoulder and chin so you can use your other hand on your clit.

"Gonna study so hard," he says. He's bucking his hips, fucking up into his hand, squeezing his shaft and stroking over the head in desperation. "So fuckin' hard, princess."

"Good! That's so good, so good, Eddie! Love it when you study hard, love it when you're such a good student for me!" You can't hold back a whine as you circle your clit. You're close, so fucking close.

"Gonna ace that test just for you. Make a big fat A just for my pretty little tutor." He's gonna explode any second. "Gonna—fuck—you're so fuckin' good!"

"Eddie! Love that, so proud, so good!!" You come hard, nearly drop the phone, moaning and whimpering with shaking thighs and throbbing cunt.

"Fuck!" he gasps and can't hold back another second. He makes a mess, painting his tummy with hot, thick come and whimpering your name over and over.

You're both quiet except for your rough panting. You lick your fingers clean and clear your throat. He grabs a towel and dabs at his stomach.

"So," you finally say. "See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yep. You want a ride?"

"No, Nancy'll take me. But if I could get a ride to your place?"

"Sure, no prob. Then I'll run you home in time for dinner. After the tutoring."

"Such a nice boy. Goodnight, Eddie."

"Night, princess. Sweet dreams."

"You too," you say, then hang up. You fall back against your pillows with a soft groan. Okay well THAT was a thing. An incredibly hot, delicious, amazing thing. You get up to grab fresh panties and head to the bathroom. You think maybe now you'll be able to sleep like a baby.

You only see Eddie in passing until school's over the next day. You're standing outside talking to Nancy when he cruises up. He stubs out his cigarette and grins. "Hey, Nancy. Hey, you ready to go?" he says to you.

"Yep. Got your chem book?"

He pulls his book bag around and pats it. "Plus a notebook and THREE pens. I'm as prepared as a goddamn Boy Scout!"

You can't help but giggle. "Come on, Foz. Let's see how much covalent bond info we can shove into that brain of yours before the clock strikes 6:30." You wave at Nancy, who's grinning like the cat who ate the canary, and follow Eddie to his van.

He opens the door for you, as always, then hurries around to his side and jumps in. "I picked up some Diet Coke," he says. "I know that's your drink."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks."

"Sure. I also, uh. Cleaned up a little. Wayne and I aren't the neatest pair."

He seems nervous. You reach over and give his skinny thigh a little squeeze. "It's okay, Grove. I'm sure you did great. I'll be there to tutor you, not critique your interior decor."

"Right!" he says. He gives you a quick grin. "And I really do need to pass this test."

"You will," you say. You pat his leg and pull your hand back. "It's next week, right? We can study today and maybe sometime over the weekend. I know you've got Hellfire tomorrow."

"You know I wasn't bullshitting when I asked you to join. You can, if you want. We'd love another member."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Your mouth quirks. "Do I get a shirt?"

"I've got one at my place I can give you. It's clean and everything!"

"Oooo, you spoil me!" You grin at each other before his eyes flick back to the road. "Sure, I'll come check it out," you say. "I play a high elf healer. Rhiannon. After the Fleetwood Mac song."

You wait for some judgmental or snide comment, but he just nods. "Pretty good band," he finally says.

"Wow. How much did that cost you?"

He lets out a rusty breath. "A lot, babe. Not gonna lie. That one was hard. Though it coulda been worse."

You giggle and settle back in your seat. "I'm proud of you."

You chat casually the rest of the ride, almost like friends. Neither of you mentions last night. It's like it never happened. Part of you wonders if he regrets it, but you decide that no, he's just waiting for you to bring it up first. He doesn't want to pressure you since you made "no touching, no kissing, no bullshit" your very clear rule for this thing you two have going.

Last night definitely counts as "bullshit."

You get to his place and he grabs a can of root beer and a can of Diet Coke from the fridge before leading you back to his room. You take a moment to study his posters (it's only fair; he's seen yours) and notice the fact that there are clean sheets on his bed. Wow, he really did clean up.

"Have a seat," he says. "Sorry I don't have a desk or anything."

"It's okay," you say and drop down onto his bed. "I think I can handle it." You kick off your shoes and scoot back, dragging your backpack with you.

He hesitates a moment before climbing up next to you so that you're sitting side by side against the headboard. "Okay, um. Chapter 3," he says as he pulls out his textbook.

You grab your book and notebook and flip open to the relevant chemistry notes. "Okay, first you explain to me what covalent bonds are."

His forehead creases and he haltingly explains the concept. He actually has it down pretty well.

You get through bonds quickly and move on to other topics on the test, and before you know it two hours have passed.

"Shit," he says with a glance at his watch. He scrubs his face with both hands. "My brain hurts."

You pat his head, grinning. "Poor brain. Needs a break, I think."

"Uh huh. Want a snack? I can make some popcorn."

"Yeah, that'd be good. We can quit for the day, if you want. Put a movie on for our last few hours. There's a point of diminishing returns with all this."

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. "You were readin' my mind, princess. Movies are stored under there," he says, pointing. "Pick one out while I go make the popcorn."

He hops up and you crawl off the bed to check out his movie collection. Slashers and porn. Porn and slashers. Hm. Nothing super surprising, except maybe The Never-Ending Story. But that's a classic.

Since it's only a few weeks away, you decide on Halloween and push the tape into the VCR. You pause it and put your books away before settling back on his bed.

He comes back with a huge bowl of popcorn and two fresh sodas. "Hey," he says. "What'd you pick?"

"Debbie Does Dallas," you say, straight-faced.

"What? That's not even—" He scowls as he catches on. "Very funny. Jerk."

"That's a lot of porn, Munson."

He shrugs and plops down beside you. "I'm a growing boy. I have needs."

"Uh huh. For tits and serial killers, apparently."

"Nothin' wrong with tits. And serial killers are built into the fabric of American society. Did you know there's something like 50 serial killers active in the US at any given time?"

You look at him, wide-eyed. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. And, I mean, Hawkins is...well."

"Weird," you say.

"To put it mildly. Anyway, the horror movies are kind of an escape. They're so ridiculous." He hits play on the remote. "Take this one, for instance," he says, recognizing the opening credits. "How many different ways does Michael Myers die in just this one movie? But he always comes back."

You reach for some popcorn and munch on it thoughtfully. "The futility of fighting against the inevitable existential pull of 20th-century ennui?" you say.

"Yeah, that, and also you can't trust in institutions. The cops are rarely helpful in slasher movies. The government or anyone like that never is."

"Adults aren't usually at all. Kids and teenagers have to fight the monster."

"Exactly. Kids at summer camp, kids having nightmares, kids babysitting. At the end of the day you can only trust your friends to have your back, and even then they might get stabbed," he says. His expression is intense, his eyes big and bright, and you realize you could sit here and talk movies with him all afternoon.

You lean over, grab his shirt, and pull him in for a kiss. He sits back in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Nothing. Continue."

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. "I lost my train of thought."

"Oh," you say. You take the bowl of popcorn and set it aside. "Oops." You crawl into his lap and push him back against the headboard with one hand and grip his hair with the other. He stares up at you, astounded, and his big eyes flutter closed as you lean down to kiss him again.

"So," you murmur between kisses. "Do anything fun last night?"

His hands run up and down your back and he nips at your lips with his. "Chatted on the phone with this hot girl I know."

"Lucky girl." You pull his chin up and kiss him hungrily, your tongue sliding into his mouth. He moans and moves his to meet it. His hands go still as he hangs onto you and you slowly start to rock against him.

"Don't get hard," you breathe against his mouth.

He lets out a stuttering laugh. "I'm only human, babe. You doing—that—is gonna lead to a hard dick every time."

"Mmmm I should stop, then. We have a movie to watch."

He bites your lower lip. Tugs. "Whatever you want, princess. I am at your service."

Oh. You like that. "Hm," you say as you slide off his lap. "Maybe if you're a good boy I'll suck your cock during the movie."

He sits up. "I'll be good! I swear! So good! The best!"

You giggle and kiss his cheek. "Watch the movie, sweet boy. I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

[britneyshakespeare]

i have been working with kids for four years and i had to write my first ever note just now about a seventh grade boy being inappropriate towards me. i don't know what the hell this could possibly lead to or what. he was trying to feel my legs repeatedly to the point where i had to stop sitting next to him (and i was subbing for his one-to-one para!!!). he's got high support needs. in that kind of job, you're supposed to sit next to them all day and look over their work.

the teacher whose classroom this was happening in could also tell something was wrong. the whole class was acting kinda crazy because it was the day before school vacation week and there was another class coming in to share projects. so like, he was swamped with keeping order already. but we were sitting two feet away from his podium at the front of the room. the kid was giving him and me a hard time when he wouldn't take out his chromebook as he was instructed. and then when he did take out his chromebook, he immediately, for some reason, places it on my lap. he had been ogling my legs the whole time. he puts his computer ON MY LAP. and i'm just like, stunned, because what the hell? can you not keep it on your own lap, for some reason? i don't even know what to say, i just hold it a little above my lap while i'm thinking why on earth would this be happening? he would NOT do this to his regular para if she were here, would he? this can't be normal.

and the teacher sees this and within a minute places a stool in front of the kid for him to put his laptop on. and i'm like. oh ok. yeah. he notices exactly what's happening and that that's not appropriate. and then when the other class comes in to share projects he tells me "miss b——, you don't actually have to sit next to c—— this whole period if you don't want to." and he grabs me a chair for me to go sit with the other paras in the back opposite corner of the room. like he KNEW. and thank you mr. d—— for recognizing that because i was just kind of shocked and didn't know if i was overreacting in my head to all of this.

when there's a point in the class where the kids are discussing stuff, i privately mention what's happened to the para who's sitting closest to me. and she says that the thing about him calling me pretty is something he's been known to do, but the fact that he kept trying to touch my legs is new behavior. and that's a completely different class of behavior. i was telling him NO, don't do that, and he kept doing it. and the fact that he was calling me pretty repeatedly, even when i was giving him instructions that he wasn't taking. and this is the second to last class before the end of the day, so she says she'll take a walk with him before learning center and talk to him about it, and i'm grateful for that. she does. the kid apologizes to me as soon as i come into learning center. but like. WHAT the hell.

i'm STILL like what the hell. this is unfathomable to me. the other adults who i told about this or who witnessed it were supportive of me. but. what to do??? i wrote a long note to his regular para about this, because i knew she was going to hear about it at least from the first para i told. the second para i told about it after school had a kind of... i'm not gonna say enabling reaction, but i suppose since it had already been "taken care of" (or at least, he had been spoken to and apologized) she didn't really have much to add in the way of discipline. i told her what happened after school and she was just like... a little bit, laughing? like oh, yup, that dog. she at the very least confirmed he KNEW what he was doing, that that was not an accident. she said to me "i had a feeling he was going to develop a crush on you" (me and these other paras were together for most of the beginning of the day too). but it's like. it's not about that.

i have worked with children for FOUR years. children have had crushes on me before; i'm quite unfazed by it. boys from the ages of 5-to-15 have told me i'm so pretty before and asked me to marry them. i've never had them feeling up my legs before. i've never had them making me physically uncomfortable. it's NOT about this seventh grader having a crush on the pretty substitute. he is NOT unusual for that, at all. but i've never had a boy of any age or education level repeatedly touching my knees and thighs. THAT is problem behavior!!!

because what if i wasn't assertive enough with him to tell him to stop? what if i was a girl his age? worse, what if i was an adult who encouraged this behavior? i don't come to the middle school to be a seductress. i had no intention in putting on a pair of tights and a skirt this morning of being viewed as an attractive object, especially not by a pubescent boy. what if i did though? what if his interpretation of me wasn't so incorrect and offensive? what if i let him keep touching me inappropriately and saying flirtatious things to me? me, an adult in my mid-twenties, towards a middle school boy?

in no world would that be ok. if i had been feeling up and overly-complimenting a CHILD at my place of work, holy shit would there be reports about me. so a child acting that way could never be ok either. if it'd be firable for me to be reciprocating that action, then that action should not be happening to me. ever. and that child should never repeat that action again to any other adult again.

like i am simply not there to be treated as an attractive young woman. i put on a skirt that shows too much knee and get paired with a boy, though, and that's apparently just a natural consequence. hooo-ly shit. like i don't know what to do. first of all, the more time passes since this has happened, the more i am just unable to stop thinking about it. i wasn't "hurt" or too emotional in the moment but i'm just still processing it and it gets worse. i'm just more and more disgusted.

i don't know what i expect to come out of this, or the email i sent to his regular para. like, am i gonna have to attend a fucking meeting? what is the precedent that this sets for him? WHY do i feel BAD for him about this? well, because he's a child, of course. a child who has done wrong he may not be able to understand. but he knows WHAT he did. he just doesn't know WHY it was wrong.

and i couldn't even say something to him that was like, "well, how would you like it if i was touching you like this?" because young boys do not understand how inappropriate it'd be. i'm sure this kid thought he was gonna get away with what he was doing at the very least. but probably not unlikely he (being a child with no concept of how wrong it'd be) thought he could get some sort of "positive" attention for treating me like this. either way he was simply doing what he wanted to do, with no perspective of how it would make me feel or that it could be classified as harassment. teenage boys think it'd be awesome if the older attractive woman would reciprocate their affections. they're wrong. i, as the older attractive woman of his affection, cannot be the one to convince him of that, though.

i don't know. i don't know. like it's just so not ok. but if i didn't tell another adult about this, he would've gotten away with it. he would probably do it again. and him being in trouble for it is not the same as him understanding that it was wrong. unless someone has a REAL talk with him about inappropriate attention and consent, it's not unlikely that he'll just repeat the behavior in a setting where he thinks he won't be caught or told on. THAT'S the problem. me, i could just never have to be this boy's para again. in my email, i didn't say that i would never be ok working with or around him ever again. he already knows i didn't like it and i'm not afraid to tell on him; as far as that lesson applies to me, individually, i think he's become too ashamed to repeat that.

i don't know. i don't know. i very much expressed that i, i guess, "forgave" him in the email that i wrote. i clarified that i was writing it for the sake of having it on the record. i think that could potentially be very important for the purposes of preventing further similar or escalating behavior from him in the future. i don't want him to be in trouble. i don't think i will be blamed for this, especially not with how promptly i acted, although i don't know to what extent this will be framed as me thinking i'm a "victim." i'm not... i don't feel victimized. i feel disgusted. i feel afraid for the sake of what could happen to or with him in the future, if he thinks behavior like his towards me today is ok.

i feel like if i end up having to further respond to this, this will be made about me. in a way it kind of was. is? in the moment it was happening, it was certainly about me. because i was the one this boy was giving all this unwanted attention to. but to make the consequences of this about me and to involve me any further, i also don't want. because i said what i said already, i don't care if a student has a crush on me. this isn't about me being the pretty substitute. i'm the pretty substitute all the time, to tons of people. that's not really something i've been concerned about up until now.

but do i have to reexplain my personal embarrassment? that i was wearing a skirt? that he was ogling my legs? really? what more do i have to gain from sharing that, other than having the adults at my place of work confirm or deny me in their heads as the pretty substitute? i don't know. perhaps that's REALLY overthinking it. but i don't want to be the substitute that caused a problem for this special ed kid. i don't wanna be the reason that he can't be around me anymore, the person people think of when they're monitoring how he's acting around girls and young women. i DON'T want to be the one people think of when they think of his past misbehavior. i'm NOT here for that.

that's just fucking humiliating. and in this being a thing that could follow him, i have to be ogled and touched over and over again in people's minds for this to be taken seriously. but for this to be swept under the rug would be even worse, no? i don't know. i hate this. the principal is a nice guy; i wouldn't be surprised if he and/or people from the special ed department reached out to me sympathetically about this. but i don't wanna be reached out to. i don't wanna have ppl i work with tell me "sorry that kid was just so attracted to you he couldn't help himself" like come on. if the kid himself doesn't change then i don't really care to remember this incident. and no one reaching out to me and saying they've talked to this kid will actually prove to me he understands. this is the kind of inappropriate behavior it takes years for people to understand why it was wrong, especially a child who has no idea. i mean come on.

[fey-changeling]

please infodump!!! i am interested!! tell me things i do not know!!

I have been Enabled. I'm so sorry. (I literally wrote an essay so I've reduced it to the most interesting parts—hopefully! Includes footnotes!)

My Cosplaying At A Glance

Technically been cosplaying for 10 years, I only count it as cosplay from 2020 though.

I have A Thing about accuracy which can make the creative process veeeery stressful.

I've made one cosplay from a live-action film/series¹ and I hope never to repeat the experience because of the above.

I hate being photographed, I'm awful at modelling, I'm very slowly getting better.

I hate doing The Social Media more than modelling.

I love when my vision starts coming together and I feel like the character.

2023 Plans!

Modern/dark academia/pre-Fate Arrnodel closet (ish) cosplay (stockings dilemma because stripes (a bit witchy) or snakes (nude colour might not work over blue). I have no clue where I'm going to shoot this but probably my room or in the woods.²

Various small projects for basics/accesories/the cool trousers I've always wanted/alterations

Hopefully I'll be able to do a rusalka shoot but it does depend on finding a good location, there's a stream in the big woods but it's a long way and much more popular area for *people*.

The Wyrd Sisters in april/may because bluebells and wood anemones, current plan is to do a different outfit (and maybe hairstyle) for each sister. I just think they'd be so much fun to cosplay. (Oh, how darling! Mortals!!!!!)

Right now I really want to dress up in my Isolde cosplay because I love it so much. It makes me feel so powerful because there's A Lot fabric in the skirts, so when I'm wearing the underskirt (ankle length full circle skirt) and the robe (which has godets³) there's so much weight and swish to it when it moves. The only problem is (i'm ill and i can't be bothered) it's a lot of stuff plus prosthetics, remembering jewellery, and I never know what to do with the wig.

I'm pretty sure I do this because I'm a dancer and how people move is very interesting but my cosplays (Rem and Isolde especially) have specific body languages.

Rem is very open, a little bit masc, she's confident, has a relaxed-but-not-too-relaxed posture, can't sit properly on a chair (manspreading, legs over the arms, cross-legged), she talks with her hands, she fidgets, something cat-like but basically her body language downplays how dangerous she really is.

Isolde is much more closed, her arms are often across her body or behind her back, she has ballet dancer posture, she moves very smoothly and elegantly, sits legs crossed or ankles crossed, hands in her lap, minimal superfluous movement, holds herself like she's better than you.

anyway here's a photo I love from my recent Rem shoot (I'm wearing fluffy socks), and a photo from my first Rem shoot (I hate the wig, I was literally freezing but the vibes). Isolde underskirts (before I hemmed them), and an edit I made that I love (before I got the right prosthetic ears)

Thank you so much for enabling me and also if you read all that. i'm always happy to talk about this if you want to know more :)

[enchanting-sea-lamp]

Hell made of glass (part i of Labyrinthe)

TW: vivid descriptions of gore//implied parental neglect//cursing//french people

Nadja wasn’t one for parties, she was repulsed to even make eye contact with her father’s guests, unable to correctly interact with them in any sort of way and it just made her feel worse about herself, however her father carefully instructed her nanny Isabella to get her ready for the cocktail party he was holding for his constituents and Isabella couldn’t go against her boss, even if it meant having to subject poor old Nadja to all that faux torture

all the way down in Nadja’s room, both Nadja and Isabella were getting ready, Nadja was wearing her old party dress while she stared out her bedroom window looking down at two security guards playing cards and talking playful banter with one another as Isabella was getting ready to leave, you could tell her room was the only place in the entire mansion where one could feel warmth and joy, the rest of the manor cold and frigid, blue with all the light coming from the windows, Nadja hated being in the house all by herself, as she had been usually by her father, thankfully Isabella was there for her, as Nadja strapped her dress on she sat in front of her vanity table while Isabella followed behind her with a comb

“oh hehe, look Marcus lost again” Nadja said looking out the window

“he’s always been a sore loser, trust me I’ve played bridge with him” Isabella said bringing Nadja over to her vanity to do her hair

“do I really have to go this time?” Nadja protested

“don’t shoot the messenger kid, I’m not the one forcing you to go” Isabella said “I’m just doing my job honey”

“PLEASE Bella!” Nadja insisted “those people are so far up my dad’s ass they’re practically in his kidneys!”

“precisely, its gonna be fine, they’ll all be too focused getting attention from your dad to notice you’re there, you can sneak away at any given moment and go play cards with Markus and Hermann”

“please stay Bella I can’t take it”

“Nad, I wish I could but I have guests over today”

“oh”

Nadja looked solemnly into the mirror with a worried face while she gripped her hands, Isabella noticed, she knew Nadja wasn’t comfortable with handling these sorts of situations

“still could you stay a little longer?” Nadja asked

she looked at herself in the mirror with the tremendous guilt weighing her down enabling her to keep brushing her hair she sighed and told Nadja

“ugh, can’t believe I’m doing this—” Isabella said “Look I’ll only be gone a couple hours, I’ll return after I’m done just for you caprese?”

“REALLY?!” Nadja exclaimed, she jumped out of her vanity seat and bear-hugged Isabella “OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!”

“alright alright Nad” Isabella said

a knock on Nadja’s door made itself clear as Aria, Isabella’s co-maid appeared to fetch Nadja

“Nadja dear, your father is searching for you, he wants to make an entrance with you there” Aria said

“got it, see you later Bella!” Nadja said

“bye kiddo” Isabella replied

“three hours?” Nadja whispered

“three hours!” Isabella whispered back

Nadja left her room gleefully as only Aria and Isabella remained

“leaving early I see?” Aria asked in an accusatory tone with the darkness around her eyes growing darker

“yeah you know, I invited people over, can’t have them waiting long” Isabella answered

“I take it these people are those jackals you always surround yourself with?”

“whoa there, always is a bit of a stretch, maybe every other week but always?”

“do you ever think of her when you do these things?!” Aria accused in the same tone as before but her demeanor shifted as she gotten closer to Isabella their faces only a half inch away from each other

“always” Isabella got away from her almost making her way to the doorway before aria grabbed her arm firmly and swiftly and looked at her as the darkness in her eyes only exceeded

“then you would know they only bring trouble with them”

“will you relax, I’m not planning anything substantial I’m just going to a get-together with some friends, they just happen to be the people you can’t stand” Isabella swatted her hand away from Aria’s grip

“will you listen to yourself, what would Nadja say when she finds out who you hang out with are a group of drunk, delusional and deranged idiots who think just because they’re loud enough they can bring change to this city”

“she’d say, please take me with you I can’t take being holed up here any longer”

“you jest, but just so you know one day you will have to answer for your crimes, and the judge, jury and executioner might just not listen to your case”

“right, do you know where my bag is?” Isabella sarcastically replied as Aria took a sharp exhale and replied “down the hall in the broom closet”

Isabella, grabbed her bag stashed between the brooms in the broom closet, a duffel bag filled with her personal belongings, as she put it on her back and sneaked out of the broom closet and out of the estate, the blue moon lightly casting its light over everything, the only proper lighting coming from the mansion’s stained glass windows, as she made her way through the exterior of the house a shadow cascaded over her and she was caught off-guard by it seeing how she wasn’t walking underneath or behind anything, she turned to see the silhouette of a security guard, she sighed a huge sigh of relief and made banter with the standing man

“sorry I thought you were something else there!” Isabella said

“…” the standing man didn’t answer

“you alright there you look a little torn up” Isabella said

“…” he once again didn’t answer

Isabella began to get suspicious, all the other guards knew her very well, matter of fact she had a good relationship with a few of them, she got closer to the man leaned forward to see him

“hey buddy—”

the sight of what she saw standing there was indescribable, whatever it was it sure as hell wasn’t human, its skin was pale to the point where it’d be considered a light green, it’s jaw unhinged to where its teeth were damn near falling out and those that stayed intact were grossly colored brown or a faint yellow, the hair was falling out its head and slowly creasing out of the head, and the eyes, oh how could she forget the eyes, they were a blindingly bright yellow with tiny black dot for an iris, it looked at her and reached out with its maggot infested hand, spores growing fervently out of it

“I…feel….fantastic”

the standing thing said before assuming back its normal position, Isabella fled faster than anything else, completely disregarding the regular path she’d take back home anything to get away from whatever it was, she had somehow made it to the city’s residential area a little far from her house but still there, she took a second to breath in after running so far she felt numb in her legs, once she took a second to recollect her thoughts, once she realized what she had saw over there, the fear was almost about to consume her entire body, nonetheless she regained her footing and took a deep breath

‘its fine Isabella’ she thought ‘it’s probably nothing, don’t worry yourself, it could’ve been the moonlight, you know how hard it is to see in the dark— oh who are you kidding he damn near looked dead!

she somehow convinced herself what she saw there was unreal, upon being successful in her self-gaslighting she realized she was close to her house and out of the many things plaguing her mind at that moment she quickly remembered

“THE MEETING!”

Before she was even in her own apartment building her guests made their way into her apartment, with the key she supplied them with in case of emergencies, of course the emergency in this case was them not wanting to wait any longer.

“Marie, ma cherie, how many times do I have to tell this, this is a revolutionary meeting not a party you don’t have to make bakeries for us!” Jean-pierre exclaimed with a cigar in one hand and a glass of Isabella’s wine in the other

“oh but you can bring wine and cigars?” Marie Abdul protested as she brandished out her cookies and cakes for the rest of the Jackals Club to eat “you know you’re the only one complaining”

“oh pour l'amour de Dieu!” Jean-pierre exclaimed as everyone was giggling and laughing at him

“Alter schwede! when will Isabella get here, we’ve been here for a good half-hour!” Wilhelm complained in his husky voice staring out Isabella’s window

“we’ve been here for ten minutes Wilhelm” Antoine corrected him in his wistful and quiet tone “and stop drinking I’m not carrying you back home again, I broke my back the last time trying to carry you!”

“Oi stop being such a baby, I only had six HAHAHAHA!” Wilhelm replied putting his arm around Antoine and messing up his hair

“MONROE TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I GET VIOLENT!” Antoine yelled

“one moment, I’m about to win- wait no ach mon dieu!” Monroe complained as he played his hand in a poker game against Armstrong “thanks a lot I was just about to win that!”

“hahaha, too late!” Armstrong delighted as he grabbed his winning money from the center of the table “why don’t you try and play a real game eh?”

“you brought a card game too!?” Jean-pierre yelled “peoples this is not a party it is a meeting!”

“will you relax Jean, the meeting hasn’t even started what do you expect we would be doing?” August asked as he lounged on Irwin’s lap drinking from a gin bottle he brought over

“ack, I don’t know we would be discussing with one another about the topics of the day, while Louis took notes and we smoked cigars and drank wine, not this!”

“speaking of louis where is he?” Irwin asked after taking a big sip of August’s gin bottle

“he isn’t here?!” Monroe asked carrying a half-intoxicated Wilhelm away from Antoine “I could’ve sworn he was with me!”

“no Monroe that was me, you kept calling me Louis remember?” Marie explained

“Ah Merde not again!”

a loud and quick knock was heard from outside

“I’ll get it” Marie said reaching for the door, Louis emerged half-soaked in street-water looking in discontent over at Monroe and the rest of the Jackals

“Ah Louis, Dieu merci, I thought I forgot you!” Monroe said

“oh so you didn’t forget me!” Louis exclaimed naively

“yes, yes I didn’t forget you I just got-uhh, distracted!”

“so you did forget him!” Wilhelm laughed to himself falling on the ground

“ugh!” Louis exclaimed throwing his jacket on the hanger next to the door and sitting next to Armstrong

“ay Louis forgive me, I just saw an old friend and I lost track of time!” Monroe justified

“whatever Monroe” Louis said as Armstrong handed him a cigar

“cheer up Louis at least he didn’t forget you at one of those police checkpoints again!” Irwin joked with everyone apart from Jean-pierre and Monroe laughing

“oi, quiet!” Jean-Pierre exclaimed, they all heard faint footsteps coming from the hall outside, that of a muddied leather boot, upon hearing the door swing open, out came Isabella, sweaty, tired and out of breath.

“OH GOD!” Marie Abdul exclaimed upon seeing Isabella “My darling are you alright?” she came to her aid, taking off her coat and bag from her and looking into her shaken and disturbed eyes

“uh-huh, yes I’m just fine!” Isabella replied shakily

“right, Isabella’s here we can start the meeting!” Jean-pierre said ignoring Isabella’s pitiful state only for the other members to go a different direction and focus on Isabella, the entire club helped her sit down.

“Isabella Alles Klar?” August asked as the group transported her to a couch

“yeah yeah, I’m fine!” Isabella brushed off

“Bella, dear, look at yourself you’re not fine!” Irwin said

“you look like you were run over!” Wilhelm chimed in

“or seen a ghost!” Louis added

“or were stoned half to death!” Armstrong also added

“alright, ALRIGHT!” Isabella exploded “I get it I look bad, but can we just get the meeting over with!”

“ugh THANK YOU!” Jean-pierre said

“please dear, can you lay down a little?” Marie asked her sincerely

“I’ll do it afterwards Marie” Isabella bargained as she held Marie’s hands

“promise?”

“promise!”

“ok everyone done?” Jean-pierre impatiently asked while everyone looked at him with annoyed stares “OK GOOD LET’S START!”

“tell me has this man not taken enough from us as is?” Antoine commanded as he spoke from the top of his lungs while the club members huddled around him smoking and drinking in a room that was exceedingly starting to smell like burnt cannabis.

as Isabella laid down on her couch with a half-sober Wilhelm sitting on her right side and a worrisome Marie holding her hand on her left side all listening to Antoine’s fiery speech.

“Psst, Willy” Isabella whispered to Wilhelm, he leaned closer to her accidentally spilling some gin on himself

“Ack!” he exclaimed quietly “What Bella?”

“How’s Antoine’s brother holding up, I heard they caught him a few days ago”

“Ja, that they did, they found him smuggling cigars and dirty magazines from Moers, poor guy they even extended his sentence in the Glass Labyrinthe!”

“for smuggling dirty rags and cigars??”

“and a treason charge apparently”

“nah that’s overkill”

“your telling me!”

“He’s turned children to orphans, men and women to widows and housed families homeless people roaming the streets aimlessly just for them to be caught and thrown in jail, and what do we have to show for this!?” Antoine berated “a saint who has a body count is not a man of god!”

“Quelle salope!” Louis joked as an uproar in laughter commenced

“uhh, what does that mean?” August asked Marie

“slut” Marie told August

“christ, I was just asking a question!”

“precisely Louis, write that down La Salope Vincenzo” Antoine ordered “comrades, I will be upfront with all of you, as you all know I have a wife a kid and sadly a brother in law”

Wilhelm laughed and pointed himself as if to say “HE MEANS ME!”

“these are all people I love, people I cherish, ones who I couldn’t see myself having to identify the corpses of, especially not my daughter claire, and to think that we’ve all had to do it in the past, that’s what makes it more heartbreaking”

A silence rung out through the room, the sense of dread hit the group like a brick wall, New Venezia wasn’t a delightful city, not in the slightest, a city with the nickname “the Saint’s Mortuary” was bound to be a city with no prospects, the Jackals all knew this none more than Isabella, a woman who had to identify her parent’s corpses after they had been murdered, a woman who had to retrieve her ex-fiance’s ashes after a fire broke out in the city and a woman who was left to work at the young age of 13, with little to nothing to her name.

“let’s put an end to our mortuary visits” Antoine concluded as sharp yet scattered applause followed his speech, as Jean-pierre came up to speak with Irwin following him to the middle of the room, Isabella rolled her eyes and sat upright.

“love?” Isabella called for Marie “can you pass me the bottle, I need to be drunk to take that man seriously”

“ack, come on Bella, keep an open mind maybe he’s got something good to say today!” Marie replied

“do you know who your talking about, Jean-Pierre’s only good for one thing and one thing only and that’s how many cigars he keeps with him”

“I heard that Isabel!” Jean-pierre exclaimed

“oh good, your ears work!” Isabel rebutted

“hmph!” Jean gestured

“Bella, mon amour, I know you and him don’t get along, but he is our leader and like it or not you’ll have to listen to him sometimes” Marie said

“cruel irony isn’t it?” Isabella replied

“very much!” Wilhelm chimed in

“my fellow comrades” Jean-pierre announced “we have come far, from our days as an old drinking group, when it was just me and Irwin, to a group of like-minded, fascinating and bright individuals, all capable of toppling this tyrant and his tyrannical ways!”

“I mean come on Marie are you hearing this, he’s talking out of his ass!” Isabella whispered to her lady

“come on, he’s just drunk” Marie said

“and now, we shall take our next most drastic step” Jean-pierre announced with the settling suspense from that single sentence sending shockwaves through the room, what on earth could he mean by that, his cryptic nature only added to the weird suspense filling the room.

“I see I have your attention, hehe” Jean-Pierre said “Louis, make sure you’re taking notes!”

“Yessir!” Louis pulled out his notebook and pens and waited with baited breath for his next sentence, however Jean-Pierre trailed on

“are you writing this down this is very important—”

“OH JUST TELL US JEAN!” Monroe exploded

“alright alright!” Jean gestured “Irwin, you can take it away”

“right,” Irwin announced “we’re going expose the Saint!”

murmurs and chatter chimed through the room ones specifically of confusion and anxiety

“are they serious?” Marie whispered to Isabella

“I guess so!” Isabella answered

“Bella!” Wilhelm called for her “take this away from me, I’m starting to hear things” He handed her a bottle and glass of wine he had

“Mein Gott they can’t be serious!” August fumed

“oh they’re serious!” Monroe said

“these idiots will get us killed!” Armstrong exclaimed

“I knew I should’ve started writing my will!” Antoine said

“at least you HAVE things to bequeath!” Louis said “I’m coming up with blanks for my will!”

“please please, everyone calm yourselves!” Irwin announced “you’re not hearing things, you’re not hallucinating— we’re going to expose the Saint and his council”

“and how do you suggest we do that Einstein?!” Armstrong asked

“I was just about to get into the Armstrong—” Irwin said before Jean-Pierre interrupted him

“Since you asked Armstrong— allow me to explain!” Jean-pierre said, he pulled out a wire from his pants’ pockets “this is a wire, a wire that one of us will place in the Saint’s office, once the wire is placed in a secretive location, preferably one where we’re able to listen in on his conversations, then we’ll transcribe his conversations and look for the real juicy bits, and publish those, that way we’ll be able to get people to see the true version of him and expose him to the point where he’d have no other choice to step down!”

Isabella stared in disbelief, as she knew the minute Jean uttered his first sentence of his life-threatening plan, that she’d be the one tasked with bugging Saint Vincenzo’s office, it made her furious, neither Jean or Irwin consulted her about the plan, a plan that she would be instrumental in, if she wasn’t careful she could very easily go into the Glass Labyrinthe and never see Nadja ever again, she’d never see Marie ever again she’ll be forced into a life of isolation and torture over a misstep that she wasn’t even consolidated upon.

“so I must ask you” Jean-Pierre said facing the room, he stepped towards Armstrong and held his hand in his “will you publish our findings Armstrong?”

That just added salt to an open wound, as if Isabella didn’t matter enough, he asked Armstrong first before he even asked her, she felt absolutely humiliated, and Marie could tell

“just think of the glory, think of the infamy, my name in future history books, all of our names for that matter!” Jean continued on “what do you say Armstrong-”

“no”

Jean halted in his steps as those words echoed through the room, Jean-pierre slowly turned around and with a stunned look on his face with his cigar falling on the ground and being put out immediately upon falling on the ground

“what do you mean no?” Jean-Pierre asked “d-didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“every bit of it” Armstrong replied “I just can’t—my editor, he’s a close friend of the saint’s, and- and if I publish that, it’ll be the end of me, I’ll be thrown in the Labyrinthe!”

“it’s a small sacrifice Armstrong, a sacrifice in the name of progress DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND!?” Jean-pierre fumed

“Jean-” Irwin said

“NO DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?!” Armstrong replied yelling “I ALREADY LOST PETER TO THE LABYRINTHE, I’M NOT LOSING MYSELF TO IT I HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS JEAN!”

Armstrong stood like a skyscraper amongst tiny settlements, he looked down at Jean-pierre with uncontrollable rage and fury, enough to explode a man, Jean-pierre looked up in horror and disbelief as his plan crumbled upon impact, he inched backwards and slumped on the ground, his arms on his knees looking down on the ground the darkness around his eyes growing darker and darker

“cheer up Jean-Pierre, we can come up with something else” Irwin said

“everywhere I fucking go— Everywhere we go he’s there, its like he has eyes in the walls!” Jean mumbled

Isabella sat there looking at Jean-pierre with disgust and loathing, for this man was supposed to be their leader, a man who crumbles upon the biggest setback, does he not have a backup plan, does he not think ten steps ahead like a good leader, he is a coward, a coward with no plan and no backbone, the room began to feel hopeless as if they were sinking into the ground when Louis stood up slamming his notebook on the ground yelling

“I’ll do it!”

Stunning the room even more

“No Garcon, don’t do it!” Monroe warned “you’re far too young!”

“And your health there’s no way you could do it with your condition!” August said

“Let the boy talk Monroe!” Jean-Pierre interrupted

“Look, I know I’m not the best candidate—” Louis said before starting to get a coughing and wheezing fit “I-I’m young and I’m diseased!” he battled to speak through his coughs as the stress of the situation had triggered his asthma he pulled out his inhaler and continued to talk “B-but if there’s anyone you could trust the notes with its me, I haven’t lost a single one since we started having the meetings and if anyone’s going to transcribe them it should be me!”

“Louis, young man look at yourself, you start coughing and wheezing at the first sight of stress, I don’t think transcribing highly classified material from the office of a highly powerful and deranged lunatic will do you any better!” Irwin commented

“Please sir, you all have family and loved ones to worry about, if I go no one will miss me you’ll all be fine” Louis added

“Louis don’t do this— you’re just a kid!” Monroe said with tears in his eyes

“I am no kid, I am a Jackal” Louis stated with all the courage he could muster up at that moment

“THE BOY WILL DO IT” Jean-pierre announced as Louis rejoiced, the rest of the Jackals still worried for if Louis gets caught the club has a child’s blood on their hands

“Jean!” Irwin yelled “the boy is sixteen, you can’t be fucking serious!”

“OH!” Jean-Pierre exclaimed “ OH please, I don’t see you coming up with a better idea!”

“Sirs, please it’ll be fine!” Louis interrupted “I know everything about these sorts of things I can manage just fine!”

“Ah there, you heard the boy HE’LL MANAGE!” Jean-Pierre exclaimed

“Jean, we should still reconsider this, Louis could hurt himself doing this!” Antoine said

“You know we still haven’t decided who would place the wire!” Marie added

“Not now Marie we are discussing it!” Jean-Pierre said

“Ugh!” Marie scoffed

“FORGET IT PIERRE!” Monroe yelled clutching Louis aggressively “YOU WILL NOT TAKE HIM FROM ME!”

“Monroe you’re hurting me!” Louis said the blood in his arms stopping circulation

“Monroe let the kid go, you’re going to give him another asthma attack!” August said

“LET HIM GO MONROE!” Armstrong yelled

“Why so you could take him from me?!” Monroe yelled, Louis started wheezing and coughing uncontrollably

Amidst the chaos that ensued in her own living room, Isabella stood up from her seat grabbing the empty wine bottle from Wilhelm’s hands and smashed it against the wall of the section all the members stood in front of, stunning everyone there and waking up Wilhelm, she dropped the bottle on the ground while maintaining eye contact with everyone there

“Monroe, let go of the boy or your head is next” Isabella ordered as Monroe released Louis’ arm from his grip allowing the boy to reach for his inhaler “Right this is how things will go, I will put the wire in the Saint’s room and give you all the transcripts in return you will complete this task precisely how I plan it to go!”

“What on earth are you saying?!” Jean-Pierre fumed “this is MY plan what authority do you have over this mission?!”

“Oh Jean, I know you’re not the brightest man in the world but even the most half-witted of half wits know what my role in this whole operation is” Isabella told Jean as she looked down at him

“She’s right Jean” Irwin added “who do you think will put the wire in the saint’s room?”

“And what does your plan entail per say?” Jean asked

“Glad you asked, once the bugged room is set up Louis will write down the transcript and sign it using the Jackals Club alias at that point Armstrong you will publish the pamphlets only he’d have to work overtime and in secret, and from there, Antoine, Irwin you will pass them onto your clients and law associates but be discreet we don’t want anymore of us going to the glass house over this, Wilhelm, you make sure to spread these via word of mouth around your factory job, August you make sure all your patients leave with one of these pamphlets, Monroe you pass these onto your fellow army men make sure they all get one of these but don’t you dare pass them to anyone you don’t trust I know how your regiment operates, as for you Mein Liebling, any man or woman you service these next few nights take your caution with make sure they can never trace it back to you, and that goes for the rest of you, everyone understood that?” Isabella explained as she made her rounds across the room

The room entirely stunned at her meticulous effort and thought, she had clearly put a lot of effort into this plan and it showed how sure of herself she was, she was ready to fire into the night with this plan and die with it she could.

“Hold on a second!” Jean-Pierre interrupted “I don’t do anything in this plan!”

“That’s simply not true, you’ll be supplying us with cigars and wine, every successful revolution needs one!” Isabella added

“W-well we need to vote on it!” Jean added “all in favor of the plan?” Everyone besides Jean-Pierre raised their hands seeing as everyone was willing to follow Isabella’s more rigid and well-thought out plan

“Fine Brutus-” Jean-Pierre scoffed

“Can we go back to partying now?” Wilhelm asked almost pushing Jean-Pierre over the edge

the meeting had come to a close and it was time for the Jackals to make it to their house, as Isabella stood out her door’s entrance, with glimpses of whatever she witnessed over at the Estate still haunting her, she tried not to focus on it and more on the victory she had achieved that meeting

“Good night Hortenz, may we see each other next week same time?” Jean-Pierre said

“Of course, your house this time, I’m not letting you barbarians back in my house ever again” Isabella commented sarcastically “you damn near woke up all my neighbors, lucky none of them care enough to stop you”

“What a cruel thing to say, even after this entire time you still insist on mocking me?” Jean-Pierre responded coldly

“Oh come on Jean, it was just a joke, learn to take one!”

“Quelle chienne” Jean-Pierre lit a cigar as he left her hallway so coldly and unforgivingly

Next Wilhelm and Antoine emerged, to put it more aptly, Antoine emerged half defeated as Wilhelm slumped drunkenly onto his back

“Didn’t I warn you not to drink so much tonight?!” Antoine complained

“Didn’t I warn you not to fuck my sister five years ago!?” Wilhelm replied

“Ugh— goodnight Isabella”

“hehe, do you need any help with him?

“No No, this isn’t the first night I had to take him back home like this” Antoine replied

“Bella!” Wilhelm belched out “D-did you know Antoine fucked my sister even though I told him not to, he betrayed me so violently, would’ve been better if he’d just stuck a shiv in my back!”

“Oh I’m sure Willy goodnight!”

“Nighty-night”

Armstrong emerged under the door that was twice less his size, he put a deck of cards in Isabella’s hands and told her

“Goodnight Isabella, I’ll keep these with you, I don’t want my young ones finding these in their father’s possession”

“Oh wow, a father that keeps secrets from his wife and kids, how do you have it all?”

“Goodnight jester” Armstrong sarcastically remarked

“Father of the year everyone!”

Irwin and August made their way out of the door half tired and half drunk, the were complete messes, Irwin was wearing August’s glasses and August had been wearing Irwin’s coat and hat both laughing over the ordeal yet not bothering to fix anything about it

“Haha, goodnight Bella liebe” August remarked

“Night love, and I’m sorry for that yelling match we had, I tell ya I was this close to punching Jean across his dumb groggy ass face!”

“You and me both comrade”

“Oh before I forget!” Irwin said pulling out a small wire out of his pants pocket “you know what to do with this!”

“Sure do”

“Be careful out there dear, you don’t know how many drunks are out there!”

“Tell yourself that August, you’re going out not me”

“Oh Oh ja ja, you know how I get after a few drinks”

“I’m hoping you stay this way all night mon cherie~”

“Oh I love it when you speak French to me~”

“Oh god you two, get a room!” Isabella complained

“Gute Nacht Bella!” August said as they both left Isabella’s doorway

And lastly Marie had stumbled to the door wearing her high heels and scantily clad clothes that emphasized her curves

“Right I’m heading out, busy day today— I well— busy night” Marie said

“When will I see you again Mein Liebling?” Isabella asked raising Marie’s chin upwards

“I won’t be long, just have to make my rounds through Saint Vitus street, you know the men there a big spenders!” Marie replied

“Remember what I said be careful walking through there” Isabella reminded her

“Ack, Bella I know these things, don’t you worry, I’ll be back before sunrise okay dear?”

“Alright sweetheart~”

Marie kissed Isabella on her cheeks leaving a rose-tinted lipstick stain on it

“Oh by the way Louis is fighting with Monroe inside, you might want to check that out” Marie told Isabella before taking off in a hurry

A disappointed and annoyed Isabella walked back inside to see Louis sitting on her couch looking disheveled and distraught

“mein Gott!” Isabella exclaimed “what happened to you, where’s Monroe”

“Monroe jumped out of your window and ran off some alleyway, I tried reasoning with him but all he did was yell back at me, he’s been like that all week!”

“Looks like he’s having another one of his episodes” Isabella said sitting next to Louis “We’re you fighting about something?”

“Oh we weren’t fighting, more like he was neurotically talking to the wall about me in a mean tone” Louis explained

“Oh Louis” Isabella said “I take it you don’t want to go back with him”

“He forgot me twice today, you won’t believe it”

“Oh no trust me, I believe it” Isabella reassured Louis “look, Monroe is well-meaning, unfortunately his brain up there is way too scrambled to even function properly”

“So what I should just give him a pass because his eggs are scrambled?” Louis asked

“Whoa I never said that, Its just something for you to keep in mind, Monroe functions differently than all of us, for him its a very thin line between casual everyday events to back on the battlefield, that shrapnel really did some damage up there” Isabella explained

“Hm, I don’t know I’m just very mad at him today, I can’t take getting forgotten by him another time, I get he’s dealing with his own things but that doesn’t mean he should neglect me”

“You’re right” Isabella said

“Well then I’m off!” Louis abruptly said “au revoir!”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold on a second!” Isabella grabbed Louis and sat him right back onto the sofa “Where are you going?”

“Oh well I’m going to find a place to sleep, maybe a park bench, maybe Wilhelm’s house this one time this store let me sleep in their broom closet in return for me stacking their cans!”

“No no, you’re not sleeping on the streets, you’re sleeping here tonight” Isabella insisted

“Sorry?” Louis asked

“What you heard me, get a pillow and a blanket you’re sleeping here tonight”

“But I’ll make your couch dirty I’m covered in bog water!” Louis protested

“So what, that couch had already been through hell a little water won’t change anything” Isabella replied as she went to fetch Louis some pillows and a blanket

“W-what if the neighbors come by asking about you?”

“Then tell them I’ll be back”

“What if they ask who I am?”

“Tell them your my brother, they’ll totally buy it we have the same hair”

“A-and Marie, surely she’ll be disturbed with my presence!”

“Marie would die for you, stop bitching and sleep on the couch already”

“B-but, when will you be back?”

“Oh give me an hour or so, I’ll be back by then”

“I-Isabel,” Louis pleaded “I don’t want to be here”

“Why not?” Isabella asked carrying pillows and blankets

“I-I won’t lie anymore, I wasn’t late for the reason you think” Louis confessed “I mean Monroe forgot me and all, but I arrived so late because I was attacked”

“WHAT?!” Isabella fumed “what did they look like what happened, did they hurt you?!”

“N-no, I escaped before they could do anything, but they got my wallet”

“W-well what did they look like?”

“That-that’s the thing, I’m not sure they were alive”

Isabella hurriedly grabbed a large knife from her kitchen and a note that has all her contact numbers on it, she gave them all to Louis as she covered all the windows and grabbed an extra knife for her to leave with

“Don’t open the door for anyone you don’t know, if you hear any commotion outside ignore it, it doesn’t concern you and don’t you dare leave the house, not until the sun is up” Isabella commanded

“Y-yes of course” Louis replied timidly

“Now you’re sure of what you saw?” Isabella asked

“Y-yes, o-of course I do!” Louis said “how can you forget what that thing looked like”

“Alright then, don’t you dare forget anything I said” Isabella said as she left her apartment and locked the door, leaving Louis on edge for the remainder of the night.

A chill went down Isabella’s spine as she boarded the tram line to the estate, knowing that whatever she saw coming out of the estate wasn’t a figment of her imagination but a real thing, that someone else had witnessed, her blood turned cold and her face began to sweat, what if she had ran into it once more, what would it do to her if she came across it once more, a terrifying prospect indeed. She began distracting herself with the plan she thought out for herself, synchronizing and detailing how she’d place the wire in her mind, she remembered how Svetlana, one of her fellow maids, usually delivers Saint Vincenzo some tea to his office come midnight, there was almost an entire hour before that would happen, she could come and get Nadja out of that party in time and still have some left over time to sneak the wire into the room.

“Hey Lady!” the bus driver yelled “are going to get off here or what?”

Isabella looked out the window and realized they had reached the estate five minutes ago, she left in a hurry and tipped the bus driver with sixpences as the bus left after she had gotten off Isabella walked towards the estate only to be surprised by the guests all waiting out the gate for their drivers, which was odd, usually they’d stay up till midnight and now they’re leaving preemptively, she spotted Hermann standing guard with Markus overseeing all the party guests as they all left one by one, she squeezed through them and managed to get Hermann’s attention.

“Hermann!” Isabella yelled “Hermann what’s going on?”

“You didn’t hear?” Hermann asked “some murderer escaped the Glass Labyrinthe and is on the loose, they suspect he’s coming for the saint”

“W-why the saint?” Isabella asked

“Well he was the one to sentence and torture him, I don’t think they’re on the best of terms!” Hermann said

The gravity of the situation hit Isabella like a rock to the face, she squeezed past all the other guests and made it inside the estate being greeted by a gaggle of maids and butlers closing off everything, doors, windows and exits, nothing was about to get past them as per the Saint’s instructions, Isabella ran to Nadja’s room passing Svetlana making the saint’s tea, Aria ordering the maids to board up the windows and doors, Frau throwing the leftover food from the party into the trash and Angela helping Aria with her orders. She finally made it to Nadja’s room, she quietly and slowly opened the door to see Nadja sitting in her room wearing her pyjamas and reading books on the ground, Nadja turned around to see Isabella in her doorway and she was beyond ecstatic

“BELLA!” Nadja yelled as she ran at full speed towards her and hugged her, catching Isabella off-guard

“N-Nadja, how are you doing?” Isabella said closing the door behind her and stepping into the room

“I had the worst time at that party, Lorraine was so annoying you won’t even believe it, he kept on insisting I stay in the party room!”

“Man what a bitch!” Isabella said closing Nadja’s blinds and locking the door

“What are you doing?” Nadja asked

“Oh well, there’s a bit of an issue outside” Isabella said

“Is that why everyone else left?” Nadja asked “which, thank god by the way”

“Yeah, there’s sort of a prison escapee situation going on” Isabella said

“Oh no that’s awful”

“Yeah, so don’t leave your room no matter what, you hear me?” Isabella ordered

“Wait, you’re going to stay with me though right?”

“Yes of course Nad, just let me deal with something real quick”

“wait don’t leave me here!” Nadja protested “I don’t want to be by myself anymore!”

Isabella had a tough choice to make, go do her revolutionary duty, or comfort Nadja, both so important to her whatever should she do, finally she thought of something, something both dangerous yet ingenious, more dangerous than anything else she had thought of in her 17 years of working with the saint.

“I’ve never held a knife this sharp before!” Nadja exclaimed as she wielded Isabella’s knife while she cowered beneath her, they stealthily walked through the hallway avoiding any form of detection, specifically from Aria, as they made their way to the saint’s office

“Don’t hold it like that—”Isabella said “You’ll stab yourself in the heart!”

“Oh right!”

“So why are we going to my dad’s office?”

“Oh you know, safety reasons, he just doesn’t want you to stay alone in your room while some wacko walks around trying to kill people”

“Well that’s a first!”

“I know your dad sure cares today huh?” Isabella lied

Isabella and Nadja finally made it to her dad’s office which two security guards stood in front of, subsequently the same time as Svetlana who carried the Saint’s tea and food

“Bella?” Svetlana asked “Mon Dieu what are you doing here— is that Nadja?”

“Ah, Lana, dear— just the person I was looking for—I was about to tell you that his Sainthood wanted Nadja in his room for the night, you could never be too cautious am I right?” Isabella explained

“I suppose?” Svetlana said “but why does Nadja have a knife with her?!”

“self-defense, you never know what might happen, wouldn’t want her to be defenseless eheh” Isabella cautiously said “here let me take that tea from you, you take Nadja’s knife— problem solved!”

“UH—His Sainthood expects me to be there!” Svetlana said

“Another night Svetty, there’s a deranged lunatic on the run!” Isabella yelled as Nadja opened the door for her and they both entered in

“Bye Svetlana!” Nadja said

the two ladies entered Saint Vincenzo’s elaborately decorated office, the fireplace was burning and his wall filled with animal heads stared at the both of them as they walked in front of the Saint’s desk with him sitting pondering upon the fireplace, he turned around and was shocked to see the both of them.

“Nadja? Isabella?”

“Your Sainthood~” Isabella said kneeling down with the tea tray in hand

“Hello father!”

“what are you doing here?” He asked

“Well, Nadja’s room was such an easy target for the loose lunatic and I thought maybe this would be safer for the both of you, seeing how your office is heavily guarded and sanctioned your daughter shall be safer here than in her room!” Isabella explained

“It’s alright father, I’ll be quiet for you”

“Yes, Yes— but I meant you Isabella, didn’t you leave early today?” Saint Vincenzo asked

“oh well you know, I was just walking back home when I realized I still have some work to finish so I rushed back here as fast as I could to finish my job, because THAT is how devoted and loyal I am to your cause” Isabella lied pulling the quickest lie out of her ass

“nice save” Nadja whispered

“Well then— thank you Isabella” Saint Vincenzo said “please, place the platter there”

the moment had come, the best possible out for a fake-out, Isabella took the dive and literally dove in front of the table, the crash of silverware and China ceramics colliding with one another with the crashing sound startling both Nadja and Vincenzo, they both jumped out of their seats at the mere sound of it

“Ach nein!” Isabella said “I’m so sorry forgive me your Sainthood!”

“Ow my ears!” Nadja exclaimed

“Are you alright dear?” Isabella asked

“I’m a little shaken but I’ll be just fine”

“ISABELLA!” Saint Vincenzo yelled “you come here unannounced and unasked for and you drop tea all over my carpet have you no shame?!”

“My apologies your sainthood allow me to fix it for you” Isabella apologized, she leaned into Nadja’s ears while Saint Vincenzo wasn’t paying attention and whispered into her ears “distract him for me”

Isabella got on her knees and began to set up a wire as she pretended to clean up, Nadja a little confused looked back to her for guidance but all Isabella did was mouth the words ‘talk’

“S-so dad, who’s the lunatic trying to get you?” Nadja asked looking back at Isabella giving her a thumbs up as she continued to set the wire

“Oh just some murderer, I sentenced him to life in the Labyrinthe without a possibility and now he’s escaped and coming for me, you know the usual stuff—” Saint Vincenzo said

Nadja looked back down at Isabella who urged her to continue while she hooked the wire to his desk and under his carpets

“Uhm, father” Nadja struggled “d-did you have fun at the party?”

“OH Nadja, sweetheart, one doesn’t have fun at these sorts of parties, they are nothing but a facade one puts for his underlings, to make sure they are satisfied for the moment” Saint Vincenzo replied

“So no?”

“No I hated it”

Isabella got mad at herself, seeing how that would’ve killed it on the transcript, but alas she kept on going as quick as possible

“I didn’t like it either, too stuffy for me” Nadja replied

“No Nadja you’re supposed to like parties, how else would people know who you are if you don’t throw them?” Vincenzo clarified

“Wait so am I supposed to hate them or love them?” Nadja asked

“Love them of course!”

“But you just said you hate them”

“Of course, I despise them with all my being but you have to hold them!”

“Wait I’m confused, why can’t I just talk to people?”

Saint Vincenzo erupted into laughter with tears dripping out his eyes, luckily at that point Isabella had finished hooking the wire onto the table, unluckily she had to clean up her diversion, so she looked back at Nadja and asked her to stall for a few more seconds.

“You don’t just TALK to people Nadja, they’re who you’re trying to get away from, when you’re a public official you should just focus on your job and ONLY your job, whatever people say is secondary of course”

“Right, right I guess?” Nadja mumbled “S-so any plans this weekend?”

“As a matter of fact I do— and it involves you!”

“O-Oh!” Nadja exclaimed “really?”

Isabella hastily started pushing the tea into the tray but it wouldn’t go as fast as she’d like, so she went faster and faster accidentally knocking her head into Saint Vincenzo’s desk

“Isabella!” Vincenzo cried out “WHAT ON EARTH IS TAKING YOU THIS LONG?!”

“S-sorry sir, I’m just doing my best!” Isabella falsely apologized

“Clearly not!” Vincenzo cried out, his harsh demeanor angered Nadja, not wanting to have yet another fight from the both of them this week Isabella quickly scrubbed faster this time.

“As I was saying, I’ll be taking you to the Glass Labyrinthe on the weekend, show you around, show you off, its about time you left the estate” Vincenzo announced, the news coming to Nadja as a shock, rarely does her dad allow her to leave the house, let alone accompany him, and now he’s letting her accompany him to the city’s biggest monument, Nadja was excited but still angry, all while Isabella could only hear one thing,

Saint Vincenzo is taking his young daughter to see a prison of which a dangerous prisoner had escaped from and trying to hunt them down as they were talking

“That’s- that’s great news dad, I was wondering if you would let me leave the estate for something else though” Nadja requested

“Oh?” Saint Vincenzo said “and what might that be?”

“I want to go to the Arcane library this weekend, I just heard they released new books from the isles there and I wanted to read them!”

“Oh dear, why there?” Vincenzo asked

“Why not there?”

“You know I hate that shabby old joint, if I could I would’ve turned it into a worker’s facility so why do you want to go there?”

“B-because it’s a library, and I love libraries” Nadja said, it was as if Isabella could hear her heart shatter over her father’s mean words

“I don’t know— maybe if we end early at the Labyrinthe but I don’t see it happening in the near future”

Isabella couldn’t understand how one person could be so cruel and unforgiving with the most inconsequential statement ever known to man, she knew the saint never spent anytime with his daughter anyways to learn anything about her, but even that felt heartless.

Isabella was done cleaning she picked up the platter, more importantly the wire was placed in a hidden and secure area where no one could reach it, she ushered Nadja to come by her side and said

“Well, that’s all of it, again I am sorry sir” Isabella said as she held out her arm for Nadja to grasp

“This’ll be coming out of your paycheck Hortenz, I hope you learn from this mistake of yours” Vincenzo said

‘I’ll stick a wick up your ass see what mistakes YOU atone to’ Isabella thought

however the words that did come out of her mouth were

“Yes your sainthood have a restful night”

As she and Nadja left the room they both heard noises from the end of the hall of a, the two security guards rushed to the sound as Isabella abandoned her tray and pulled a knife from inside her pant leg which was strapped onto her socks

“You had a knife tapped to your legs this entire time?!” Nadja asked

“No time to explain get behind me!” Isabella said

While she and Nadja inched closer and closer to the sound, upon arriving to the source of the sound a gaggle of guards surrounded what seemed to be the man Isabella had met earlier on, with the whole pale skin and spores growing out of his body description to match, to follow the security guards a few maids and butlers came around including Aria and Svetlana, Aria rushed to embrace Nadja upon seeing her cowering behind Isabella

“NADJA!” She cried “Are you hurt? Did the bad man touch you?!”

“No Aria I’m fine, Isabella protected me” Nadja replied, Aria looked back at Isabella wielding a knife in one hand

“I thought you left early” Aria said

“Oh I came back— no reason just felt like it” Isabella sarcastically remarked

The three ladies turned around to see the man being handcuffed and detained by the guards, his head was split open by Svetlana after she had stumbled onto him walking the hallways aimlessly, as saliva poured down his mouth and his eyes twitched feverishly, Isabella stared at him, realizing he matched the same description that Louis described and the man she saw as she left the estate earlier on

“Svetlana!” Isabella cried running towards her “are you okay did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me, I’m a hero!” Svetlana rejoiced

“You’re way too chipper for a woman who came into contact with a murderer” Isabella said

“Honey, I’m surrounded by murderers everyday” Svetlana reminded Isabella, other than acknowledging the sad reality that her and Svetlana were in she simply said

“Well done Lana dear~”

Nadja was led back to her room as all went back to normal over at the estate, as Isabella put Nadja in her bed and followed her through her bedtime routine Nadja stopped in the middle of it, glaring out the window as the officers had came to take the lunatic as they drove him away Nadja let out an audible sigh

“Nad?” Isabella asked “Are you alright?”

“What were you doing in my dad’s room Bella?” Nadja asked

“I promised Aria I wouldn’t involve you in that sort of thing” Isabella said

“Why won’t anyone tell me anything nowadays?” Nadja pondered

“Huh?”

“Aria won’t tell me about my childhood, my father won’t tell me about the city and YOU— You won’t even tell me about the things you were doing, that you were using MY help to do!” Nadja said turning away from the window

“I don’t get to walk outside without a hundred people following me, I don’t get to do things I love without being called weird for it, I don’t get to go to my favorite places and now YOU won’t tell me anything!” Nadja said “I expect this sort of thing from my dad but never you Bella”

Isabella inhaled sharply, she sat next to Nadja on her window sill as she looked into her eyes and told the young girl

“You know, you have done something only a true professional could do” Isabella said

“And that is?”

“Make me break a promise” Isabella leaned in to Nadja’s ears and whispered her entire plan and job to her, Nadja gasped as her body tingled with excitement

“Did you—”

“Yes!”

“And did I help!”

“Yes!”

“So does this mean I’m a Jackal now?”

“Our first honorary member!”

“Oh my goodness I feel so honored I just—” Nadja jumped with excitement she flapped her hands and squealed, she instinctively bear-hugged Isabella once more that night

“Okay okay, calm down kiddo!” Isabella said “remember this doesn’t leave this room— got it?”

“Yes ma’am!”

Isabella left the room after hours of coaxing Nadja to try and sleep when she noticed a certain figure smoking out the window; tall, scrawny with dark hair and pale as a ghost, but she had already put Nadja to sleep so who could it be?

She leaned in closer and made out that it was Aria, she left the estate and came around to the exterior and met up with her older co-worker

“You mind if I join you?” Isabella asked

“No you’ve already gotten into trouble today, wouldn’t want to add to it” Aria replied

“Oh Aria, oh so cautious, oh so hypocritical”

“What do you want Bella?”

“You seem off today— is it something I did?”

“When is it not?”

“Oh come on that’s harsh~”

“I’m sorry Bella, I know you want to make this country better, but unless it disappears into thin air I don’t see that happening anytime soon”

“Why are you so pessimistic?” Isabella asked “we have a chance to fix these things, don’t you want to give it a go?”

“A gave it a ‘go’ some seventeen years ago and all I ended up with was a dead boyfriend and a prison sentence” Aria replied

“I’m sorry to hear that”

“She’s a good kid Bella, all this hope is a dangerous thing for a kid that young”

“I know Aria, I know~”

Isabella tiredly stumbled into her apartment in a groggy and exhausted stupor, she haphazardly took off her jacket and fell onto the ground closing her eyes and trying to nap, only for Louis to talk and instantly wake her up

“Where in god’s name were you it’s been four hours!” Louis complained

“Hello to you too Louis—” Isabella said getting up and going to her bedroom

“I mean seriously where do you get off on terrifying me then lying to me?!” Louis complained

“I’m here now aren’t I?” Isabella said “go to bed for crying out loud”

“How can I when there’s a half-dead man walking around town?!”

“Not anymore” Isabella remarked

“Wait what?” Louis asked

“They caught him, he was a Labyrinthe escapee”

“oh”

Louis had an aura of guilt follow him as it weighed him down, he stared out Isabella’s windows looking in horror, Isabella noticed, she cussed herself out and turned around to ask

“What’s wrong Louis?”

“That was a real man” he said in disbelief “What in god’s name did they do to him?”

“maison de verre des horreurs” he mumbled

“At least you know why you joined the Jackals club now” Isabella remarked as she went over to hug Louis, he clung onto her for dear life as he hid his face into her torso and wept like a crying child

As he wept into Isabella’s shirt she looked out her window overseeing the Glass Labyrinthe in all its infamy, a prison that spanned across the city and reflected the moonlight so graciously for a moment you look at it and forget it’s a prison, but not for Isabella, all she could think of when looking at that thing was

“Die Hölle ist aus Glas und sie starrt mir ins Gesicht”

end.

[the-cryptographer]

Anders, Oghren, Leliana, Sten for 002.

Woohoo! Thanks for the ask!

002 | Give me a character: ANDERS

How I feel about this character: Ugly baby. Perverted old coot. I love him. He is like... simultaneously the most self-absorbed bastard and the most selfless giving person. Absolutely beautiful. I think Anders is a man/character of dichotomies, and I think despite some issues the narrative really gets that across well.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Merrill. Fenris. Justice. Hawke. Not sure if the canon version of this romance is any better than any of the others, but it’s definitely awful in a funnier way for me personally. And noncanon Hawke you can of course do great things with. Carver. Bethany. Basically whether these two end up in the Circle, or with the Wardens, you have an immediate in for thematic relevance and shared experience with Anders. He’s my favourite person to ship each of them with. Sigrun. I don’t have a justification for this one. Just think it would be cute. Nathaniel. Mmm, same. I’ve seen other people write this well in a way that makes me want to say I ship it, but I can’t exactly pin it down. Leliana. I mean, they don’t talk in canon. And I don’t think I can ship her Left Hand of the Divine self with Anders. But, like- canon diverge before that? Think about it. They both wanna be Andraste. They’re both wildly heretical Andrastians talking about love and compassion and justice. They need to kiss about that.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I’m going to say Justice? Like, I think their connection is romantic, but it’s sometimes hard (for me anyway) to get that across when they’re sharing a body, so I don’t think of it in quite the same way. I think despite all the dysfunction in their relationship, Justice and Anders really managed to be what the other needed through some hard times and I think there is some genuine longing there where Justice loved that Anders’s hedonism could coexist with the goodness of his cause and his compassion, and Anders was inspired by Justice’s courage and sense of morality and responsibility. I’m glad Anders has Justice, even in playthroughs where everything else goes wrong for him. I guess also Isabela? In the sense that I think they’re fun to put in a room together and bounce off one another. I think they make good friends-with-benefits too, but I don’t think they especially want to be emotionally intimate with one another. Anders doesn’t really respect Isabela and I think Isabela has very little patience for Anders’s drama so :/  But I like that they seem to manage to coexist in a working relationship quite well despite that. I like how Isabela seems to know how to handle him without taking his shit personally, and see the good in him without enabling him overmuch.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Idk, he’s a jackass, but I don’t think he was wrong about bombing the Chantry if it helped end/stymie the prison labour system in Southern Thedas? I guess something more specific? I don’t think he’s a character that’s easily satisfied. I think he’s reckless and self destructive and loves testing people’s boundaries. I’m writing a fic where he’s cheating on my OTP for all of the above reasons. I feel like ‘Anders would cheat on my OTP’ is probably an unpopular opinion, but it probably says more about me than him, lmao.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I think there are probably a couple answers I could give to this but I think #1 is just better acknowledgement of who Anders was and what he was up against? I dunno. The real thing I want is for da4 Fenris to wryly talk about how much he hated Anders in Kirkwall and now he’s essentially become Anders - a freedom fighter raging against an uncaring slave labour machine and aggravating the people he talks to with problems they don’t know how to help - and isn’t it strange and wonderful and awful where life takes you? I think it would be ironic.

my OTP: Anders/Merrill & Anders/Fenris. I often ship them simultaneously in a polyamorous sense, but not always. I talked about both of them in this post.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: There’s canon dialogue reasons not to, but I think most people headcanon Wynne as Anders’s teacher in the Circle, and I’m no exception. I feel like her ‘boys will be boys’ attitude in Origins really jives well with a lot of Anders’s worse qualities, lol.

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you: OGHREN

How I feel about this character Worst boy, best boy <3  What a pathetic old war veteran who got chewed up by the system and spat out and left for dead. Also he’s terrible!

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Nobody really. No one deserves that, especially not Felsi. Okay, I lied. Wrote a fic once where he had a thing with Stroud and a fade spirit named Fury. Also he totally has a weird little crush on Nathaniel Howe (and maybe Anders too). It would be nice to explore more of that in ways that would cause brain damage for everyone involved >:)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: He and Zevran have a funny little set of banters going. I like how amused Zevran is by Oghren trying to negotiate this grudging respect for him. And I like Zevran trying to get him to laugh with the joke about an elf and a human and a dwarf talking about wiping the piss off their hands. Also Branka, to be honest. Theirs was obviously a very unhappy marriage, but I do genuinely like Oghren’s involvement in Paragon of Her Kind, and how he obviously seems to love and revere this woman and care about her when everyone else has given up on her. I love the way he’ll unreservedly call her a genius, and genuinely be upset if the Warden elects to kill her. Pity she doesn’t seem to return any of that affection.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I like him. I think he’s great for the duration of Paragon of Her Kind, as I said above. I think he definitely overstays his welcome after that though, between the rest of Origins and Awakening. Especially since Origins itself is saturated with a lot of Warrior characters when you really only want one in your party to draw fire.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish he’d gotten a little more depth following Paragon if he was going to stick around. I think it’s frustrating that the writers seemed to think he was hilarious when the rest of us seemed to only see a sad pathetic alcoholic who takes out his disappointments with the world by sexually harrassing the people around him. I’m not even sure what I expect because I don’t even *need* him to get better, especially when he clearly doesn’t want to. But I wish there was a way to engage him less shallowly.

my OTP: N/A.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: He thinks that Chasind honey mead is TOO SWEET and obviously for PANSIES & LITTLE GIRLS. But he still likes it. He sips it in secret at night and thinks of the honey termites in Orzammar.

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you: LELIANA

How I feel about this character: She is... the first character I romanced in this series. But I’m not sure it left me with many strong feelings about her. I think the back and forth the first game has about whether she fabricated her vision of the Maker entirely was interesting. I find her need to mythologise the world and the events of her life kind of frustrating, especially where it concerns turning Marjolene’s abuse of her into a tragic romantic epic. Though I think she is allowed to make sense of her life that way, if she chooses, I do find it alienating. I also think her association with the Chantry as a spearhead for its Imperialism is frustrating in DAI and subsequent additions to the series. Not that I consider it out of character, but it is a slap in the face imo for people who romanced her as Amell/Surana/Tabris/Mahariel. Definitely grounds for divorce.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Morrigan. It’s definitely fun to contrast their worldviews. And, of course, to get Leliana to use her comparative savvy and experience to get Morrigan begging >:) Zevran. It’s fun since they’re both bisexual killers for hire who like shoe shopping. Warden. I think most of the backgrounds can be done well with her (discounting DAI). Wynne. I do like how Leliana seems to see through Wynne’s old lady act a little, and point out that she herself is older than she looks. I think this could be fun. And I brought up Anders up there ^ as a potential crackship >:)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I don’t think I have one? Or, rather, I’m open to all the things I discussed in the shipping section being explored nonromantically.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I think there’s a lot of potential for her and Josie and Cassandra to be the villains in a DAI playthrough tbh. They are the ones kind of controlling the narrative about what the Inquisition is, and using it to further an agenda I do not feel is particularly in the interests of the Inquisitor in many cases, let alone most of Thedas.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Leaning more into her villain potential in DAI should have been an option imo.

my OTP: Any permutation of Leli/Morri/Zev/Warden is okay by me, given the writing to back it up.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: This is very fix-it of me. But Tug made it out of the Arl of Denerim’s Estate alive, but without working legs. Leliana thought it was more romantic to write about him dying and giving Sketch his axe. Ableism abounds. Sketch is not done being pissed off at her about it.

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you: STEN OF THE BERESAAD

How I feel about this character: Another dumb bitch traumatised war veteran <3 I like him. I think he is the source of the best character work and worldbuilding this series has done on the Qunari. And he’s fun and rewarding to watch open up. Discovering that this really hardened and murderous bastard, with this totally foreign social perspective, likes cookies and art - it feels lovely.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Warden! I don’t go here often enough, but I have seen some really cute fics about him bonding with Wardens of different kinds and showing them his nice and soft sides <3 I think him and Morrigan troll flirting with one another is also really funny and great, lol.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Zevran, maybe! I’m disappointed that follow-ups to the series never did anything with Zevran considering going to Par Vollen with him and checking out the Qun. And Dog <3  I feel like Sten is really that war vet guy who needs a service animal.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I’m not sure what counts as an unpopular opinion. I suppose I think it was terribly out of character for him to declare Alistair ‘basalit-an‘ in the comics. He clearly has absolutely no respect for the guy in Origins.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Egh, I think I’m pleased enough with what we get from him in canon, excluding the comics jank.

my OTP: I still think him and Warden could be cute together.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: He got promoted to Arishok because he introduced Mabari puppies and cookies to Par Vollen and for no other reason.

[boethiahsboytoy]

How would your ocs play Minecraft? (Like survival, creative, with friends, streaming, etc)

I love this question so much anon thank you for asking it. If you want me to go REALLY insane ill make a post talking about how the Vyrthaal's play minecraft as well lmao :3

In a perfect world all my ocs have a minecraft world they play in together (it would be a survival world with cheats enabled and everyone given access 2 the console because that sounds like the most opportunity for them all to fuck things up).BUT For more specific answers:

Vyrthaal: Exclusively plays on survival with no cheats on his ownbut them n Serana have a world together with cheats enabled so they can relax some (and mostly they just want keep inventory on so they can fuck around a million miles away from their base then die instead of trying 2 find their way back home. Or kill each other lol). Vyr would definitely stream but they (and Serana if she joins em) would speak exclusively in ancient falmeri (or Nordic in seranas case). Vyr really likes building things! They don't make big impressive builds or anything it's mostly just houses that match whatever biome they settle in with materials they gather (they will sometimes spawn things in for themself in the worlds they play in w/Serana but only if they're feelin' lazy). Very scared of exploring caves n shit but loves it--Vyr is Absolutely the person screaming at every sound even when they're playin' alone and not streaming XD OH also Vyr tries so hard to make sense of Redstone and gives up after like 10 minutes and realizes they wasted 6 hours mining for redstone and cries a little :')

Kili: OK I know Kili is blind. He also probably wouldn't be too interested in playing minecraft anyways. But LOVES hanging out w/Vyr when they play and Vyr loves telling him all about whatever he's doing and also minecraft fun facts. Intrigued by the potion making and enchanting bits so Vyr spent hours gettin stuff to make a shitton of potions and and then enchanting things for him hehehe

Jo'safiir: Also plays survival with no cheats. Loves exploring, Especially big ol' caves and mineshafts. Fucking LOVES the Deep Dark and ancient cities, tries exploring ancient cities for as long as he can while evading the Warden. Routinely winds up a million miles away from his base and dying so he's always losing inventory and it frustrates him to no end XD Jo'safiir hates building so his bases r just square cobblestone hovels with a bunch of disorganized chests placed wherever. He probably doesn't even have a bed he just sets up wherever he spawns in lmao!! Probably has a minecraft server for the College but only the students and Miraak join it, none of the faculty. Also it isn't the educational Minecraft stuff it's just regular minedcraft they all just dick around and hang out. U get extra credit in his classes if u make cool redstone contraptions tho so it's incentive for the more advanced students to hang out lol

Varla: Exclusively plays in creative to explore and build really big huge impressive and intricate builds. Has 30 million mods and uses fancy shaders and graphic enhancements etc etc. Varla's computer SHOULD be a melted ruin but somehow it runs flawlessly and never overheats despite appearing to be a regular (if not fancy and over the top looking) gaming PC he built. If anyone asks him how his game doesn't lag or crash he just says "I don't know but here's what I'm doing" and if u try it ur shit breaks. It's Apocrypha Fuck Shit. Probably tries streaming for a bit but doesn't get Into It like Vyrthaal so sometimes he goes a month without doing anything then streams for almost a week straight. BUT he'd have a really cool Gaming Room set up and nice equipment for when he does stream bc he thinks that it's pretty :}

Vulon: Well now u are all gonna know how I play minec craft. Usually survival, usually with cheats on, usually uses the console to spawn shit in and enchant its equipment. Switches to creative when it gets bored, once spent over 4 hours in creative placing a bunch of Sculk catalysts in a massive cavern, spawning in mobs, then killing them 2 see how much of the place it could cover in sculk. Lord Boethiah has banned it from doing this in any of their shared worlds. With other friends it plays in survival without cheats or the console but its a huge weenie despite being reckless as fuck. It'll sprint heedless of danger into an Ancient city then cry real actual tears of terror when it summons the Warden. Yes I am like this no I will never change yes I have been called Leeroy Jenkins more than once. Vulon would stream too!! It would get distracted chatting with people tho and eat shit or just kind of run around in circles aimlessly. It plays w/Lord Boethiah and Serana all the time (and maybe Ezimar too if they wanted 2 :3c) the 3 of then have so many worlds called "big giant peepee" and "PENIS WIZARD 6900" and none of them ever remember what the fuck they were doing in any of their worlds so they just make more.

Niralek: I think Vyrthaal would get Niralek into minecraft and I think she would be like really good at it and never dies or gets lost but the only thing she wants to do is collect flowers and bees. Also she'd stream but ignores her chat entirely but has SO many people watching and so many Devoted Viewers bc Why Is A Spriggan Gaming???? Is she a real spriggan or is this the work of some really nice 3d modeling?????? She never moves much or speaks so nobody knows and it's a whole big Divide with her fans as to whether she's a real spriggan or not. She thinks it's funny. I think if she reaches a huge subscriber goal or something she joins Vyrthaal in a stream, like physically In The Room With Him, and everyone goes apeshit when they realize she's actually who she says she is lol.

Sethsa: She's listed bc I think Rune would like minecraft and he seems like a charismatic and fun guy so I could see him killing it as a streamer. Sethsa always hangs out with him while he plays/streams and he tells her abt what he's doing but she's like "you should go to the nether and look Endermen in the eyes" and "rUNE LOOK OUT THERES A CREEPER" when he just happens to be at the edge of a cliff or something and he freaks out and dies. He thinks it's funny as hell and so does his chat lmao. Sometimes while he's streaming Sethsa will enter the room carrying Deathcry like a baby and be like "Hello My Boydriend's Chat you will look at my creature now" and Rune stops what he's doing so everyone can look at Deathcry.

Ivrasi: Ivrasi would love farming and fishing she has massive farms and spends hours fishing and all her friends are like "you know there's other things you can do right???" She doesn't care. Her level is like 100 million bc all she does is fish nonstop so she never gets killed or anything. Definitely has a world with Erik where he goes and explores and builds things and she just hangs out in her fishing tower or skittering around to finds seeds for her farms. Her and Erik would have the messiest chests though, neither of them give a shit about organizing so they can never find any of their equipment. They keep making new chests and telling themselves that THIS is for their favorite equipment it will NOT be cluttered with bullshit. And then clutter it with bullshit. Oh also she loves going to villages and trading for shit even if they're bad trades she just likes findin random crap for villagers. ALSO she loves naming animals she Especially loves frogs but she names them with like real people names. Like after historical figures and aedra and daedra and stuff.

[barksbog]

That is the best gremlin cave I have ever seen, any tips for other gremlins who need to make their caves better?

okay so important things

first of get many shelfs to put your things onjars for small things

if you see a cool rock? take it

if you see a cool stick? take it

if you see a cool bone? take it

display all your favorite toys.

sheep skins, blankets or just really anything soft.

buy way too many plants. alternatively there are guides on how to legally steal plants. if you can´t keep plants alive get some Decorative Fake Plants. no shame in that.

wallpapers. the wildest one you can get. alternatively paint or stamp your walls.

carpets. i enjoy rainbow ones. you can buy them or wait until you inhert them from your grandfatherlava lamps.

fairy lights. really any tacky lighting you see and can obtain. obtain it.

if you don´t want exotic pets or inverts. or can´t have them. you can just get tiny vivariums for plants and that´s still going to give you that Peak Aesthetic.

 for the aquarium aesthetic i suggest marimos in glass bowls or vases. or just a planted tank. you can really get that aesthetic without animals don´t worry.

if you have animals tho. you know what´s the best aeshetic. really nice enclosures with a lot of enrichment. nothing looks better than happy pets

make some art. put it on that wall. yes even if you don´t consider yourself An Artist. i don´t care. make some art. have some fun. hang that up. so much better than those horrible stock images they sell at furniture stores.

rainbow washi tape is the most valid way to stick anything to your walls.

go to fleamarkets or on a website of your choice because you get funky things there for low prices.

 i don´t have any matching furniture because i either bought it to work for me or got is gifted and honestly. it works. don´t listen to ikea and the minimalists. your furniture doens´t have to be monotone and matching. i have three different desks and chairs and they all have different uses because i need different things from them.

 clear plastic bins are great to store things in if you like to always see everything you own because you have no object permanence like me.

for the same reason you can just take furnitures doors off. show of your things. all of them. constantly.

keep seasonal decorations around all year. it´s always gremlin season.

 if you can´t build a whole massive loft bed with a cave underneath it´s perfectly valid to have a semi permament pillow fort.

most important is however to just do what you like. a gremlin cave should feel like you even when you are restricted with how much you can do because of money, or the rules of your place, or the people you live with. get some rocks. get some sticks. no one can stop you.

[ssplague]

Part 6

Rated M

The late bloomer 🌬🥀 Part 7

WARNINGS ⚠️ A/B/O themes (heat, knotting, ruts etc.), primal play, defined sub&dom roles, manipulation, toxic relationships, sadism, abuse, blood, Yandere undertones, mention (not graphically detailed or depicted) of traumatic events & bouts of physical violence.

A/N: This chapter contains some disgustingly love sick Soft Suki for you 🥺 Exposing some of a crucial plot point here too! It will reappear throughout the remainder of the story, along with better explanations. Enjoy this moment of calm sweetness, because things are about to blow up shortly 💥

Honorable mentions: @literotica @speedmetalqueen @jazzylove @satoooooruu @fake-id-69 @desiray562 @wegotmatchingtattos @nekee-lilac02 @miss-lilith @veenasanada @girl-lost-not-found @gummiwormsandonedirection @bakugoismisunderstood @yesitsmewhataboutit @sizzlingdonutturtlemuffin @naomithenerdgirl Comment or message to be added or removed from the tag list 💌📭

📞 🧬 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

With the school week already coming to an end, you’d convinced Katsuki to allow you to go back to your bedroom. He’d begrudgingly agreed, deciding you guys would spend your final night nesting there, as he was escorting you down the empty hallway. You were shocked that he’d willingly left you alone as well. So while he went downstairs to cook, you happily took a nice long (SOLO, thank god) shower. Afterwards you’d found the time to give your mother a call.

Hello?

Hi mom, I ju-

I was wondering when you were finally going to call me! I wanted to give you guys time to settle down and rest before-

You already know? How the hell did-

Katsuki sent me a text, he didn’t say much but I was grateful for it regardless.

I’m sorry mom…it just came on out of nowhere! I felt so god awful, there was no way I could have even sent you a text, let alone try to call and explain what was happening.

I know sweetheart, been there done that…anyway!

*pause*

So how was it? Was it everything you dreamed it would be like? Did he make you see stars and sh-

MOM!

I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t resist! Had to tease you a little bit!

Oh very funny, you’re hilarious!

So you’re coming home for dinner on Saturday, Mitsuki and Masaru will be joining us of course, since the three of us want to see you two, now that you guys are officially mates, for traditions sake and all that jazz.

Three? Dad isn’t going to be-

Ah, he had somewhere he needed to be, had to leave the country for another meeting.

Oh…Okay then, what time are we supposed to be there?

7:00

Alright, well I’ll see you then mom…I love you

Love you too baby

Your dad was commonly absent these days; Maybe that’s why it had been so easy for Katsuki to swipe that Alpha position your life had been so sorely lacking. Come to think of it, how long had it been since you felt compelled to listen to a command your father had given? You didn’t have time to contemplate this, because a familiar booming voice reaching your ears from down the hallway.

“Oh shuddup will you?! That’s none of your business, nasty hag!”

You didn’t need to hear the other person’s retort to know who he was arguing with.

“Why would we want to come eat dinner with YOU? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with her mom, and of course dad, but not with a rude-“

“Hah?! I’d like to see you try!”

You open the door, before he’s forced to figure out how to unlock it himself with dish laden arms.

Muttering a quite “Thanks princess”, as he passes you to set dinner down on your desk. Being closer enables you to hear the loud “Is that Y/N? Give her the phone! I want to talk to my daughter, rather than my ungrateful god awful excuse for a son!”, blaring through his phone speaker. Clicking the dead bolt into place, you cross the room and hold out your hand to Katsuki just as he starts in; “No! She doesn’t wanna talk to you, and for that matter, neither do I! And don’t be calling her your daughter, because then people will think some weird incest shit is happening! You-“.

Snatching the phone from your furious mate you put it to your ear as you take a seat on your bed.

“Hi mom, it’s me now! Suki didn’t mean any of that, he’s just cranky from lack of sleep…you know how he can be”.

Contrary to popular belief, Mitsuki Bakugou isn’t hard to get along with…as long as she likes you and fortunately, she happens to ADORE you. Hence the reason you have no qualms at referring to her and Masaru as “mom & dad”, you’d been calling them that (at her insistence, and much too Katsuki’s dismay) since you were thirteen.

The woman immediately began to gush with congratulatory glee towards you and her son’s union;

“Your mother and I just always knew you two would end up together, before the signs began to show, her and I would make jokes about you guys being reincarnated lovers from another lifetime…we used to laugh at the thought”. She pauses, getting choked up for a minute before continuing,

“Katsuki loves you so much y/n, he always has…I know he’s a lot to deal with sometimes and if it ever gets to be a little too much, or you need someone to vent to, I want you to come to me okay?”. You took her words to heart, and at the time they didn’t seem too out of place in the conversation.

“I will mom…thank you so much for always being there for me throughout the years, I appreciate everything you guys have done for me” you dabbed at the corner of your eyes with your robe’s sleeve.

After that the conversation turned towards a short discussion of mundane things, and finally she asked if your mother had mentioned Saturday evening’s plan. To which you responded; “Yep she told me, we’ll be there at seven sharp”. Katsuki had apparently gotten fed up with being ignored in favor of you talking to his mother, so he began pawing at the sash of your robe. Despite your best efforts at pushing him away he was able to tug the knot loose and pounced at first sight of your bare breasts.

“-Ah! Hey mom I’m sorry but I-“

The phone was yanked out of your hand abruptly, “You’ve blabbered at her enough ya old hag, don’t you have friends your own age? You’ve taken up enough of MY nesting time with MY MATE so bye!” sneers Katsuki as he ends the call.

“You didn’t have to be so mean Katsuki…she’s just happy for us and wanted to let me know…since you can’t be respectful enough to just listen to her speak” you huffed as you fell back on your pillows. “Shuddup, it’s time to eat…no more talking about her or I’ll lose my appetite and I’m really hungry…RAVENOUS actually” he says as he places a kiss to each nipple before trailing them all the way down to your pelvis, “C’mon get up now”. Your whine is loud and pathetic when he completely and purposefully neglects to kiss your pussy.

“Eat all your food and I might consider giving you a treat…greedy little princess, must be spoiling you too much lately”

“Yeah, Yeah”

Shrugging your robe off you knelt down and picked it up, leaving it to hang over the back of your desk chair as you clicked off the lamp. Quickly turning on your twinkling fairy lights, you slid into bed with a sigh at the familiar comfort of being naked between your sheets.

“Sukiiii” you crooned at the familiar feeling building up in your lower region, what once was an inferno from hell, was now just a comfortable warm and tingling sensation. You hear him spit and turn off the sink, before emerging from the bathroom.

A familiar swagger in his step as he approached the bed, stopping to stare down at you. You smile up at him, batting your eye lashes as you admire the way his gym shorts hang so dangerously low, shamelessly exposing the blonde trail and the mouth watering V of his hips. So you didn’t notice him suddenly flipping the thin sheet off you. Until the slight chill in the air has you whimpering as your nipples peaked. This brief discomfort was brushed aside as soon his dick was freed, you put a hand out before he crawls into bed with you.

“What?”

“Please let me…”

You shuffle over to the edge of the bed turning horizontally so your face is line with his length.

“I think I should show you my appreciation for taking such good care of me this week” you say, as you take hold of his growing stiffy. Licking off the bead of pre cum at the tip, you began pumping your hand gently, making sure you twist your wrist slightly with each stroke, just how he likes.

“Fuck yeah” he groans “Always so good to me, m’pretty girl…m’ perfect girl”. You moan with satisfaction at the already light slur of his speech, knowing your efforts were having the desired effect. “Yer everything ta me baby…I mean it I-Holyfuckingshit” his speech is unintelligible as you begin taking him deeper down your throat.

He gathers your hair in one hand as he lightly starts jerking his hips forward.

“Touch that pretty pussy and get it ready for me angel, gonna fuck this gorgeous face in the mean time” you comply immediately, fingers working your clit with vigor as he fucks himself down your throat. Your whining and gagging when he wedges himself a little too deep, but years of being with Katsuki has crafted your deep throat game into the stuff of legends.

“Such a trooper baby…fuckin perfect goddammit y/n!” His exclamation has you jumping nervously and pulling away. Before you can inquire what you did, he’s ordering you “Get on your fucking back NOW!”:

Your spread legs are trembling as he looms over you menacingly.

What did you do?! How could you have upset him?

“I’m sorry I yelled like that…I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just…” he doesn’t finish the thought. Large hands bend your legs at each knee, pushing them up towards your shoulders evenly. You hold them there, so he can spread you open and align himself properly.

“All this from sucking my cock? How lucky can I be hah?” He slaps the head against your clit before teasing your opening. You don’t even realize you’d been holding your breath as he entered you, not until you feel his hips slam against your’s sheething himself entirely.

Your Yelp is drowned out by his loud cursing, your he’s holding himself up over the top of you. The expression on his face looks pained, a drop of sweat runs down the side of his face, and you notice he’s trembling.

“Suki?” You reach out but stop short, suddenly afraid to touch him. Through your physical connection you can sense something buzzing beneath the surface, and it makes you almost want to recoil. “Please…PLEASE! Touch me! Just touch me! If you don’t, I dunno what I might do! It’s too much!” The fear he’s feeling is audible in his voice, this is the first time you’ve heard him sound so shaken. So you wrap your arms around him and pull him down to your chest, and before you can whisper any words of reassurance, you feel it too….

“What’s…happening?”

Your nails sink into the skin of his shoulders, the repeated twitching of your fingers causing them to sink in deeper “Katsuki”.

He lets out a content hum before responding, “You feel it now too?”.

You stay silent, overwhelmed and frightened.

“Y/N…You feel this right?”

…..

“Y/N…you feel this too…don’t you?”

You feel like a live wire touched your soul; Your entire body has an electric current flowing through it, your brain is firing much faster than ever before and if you could comprehend any rational thoughts you just might be a genius. You can’t though, all you can comprehend is the man staring at you desperately waiting for you to say something to him.

“I feel it”

This too big smile appears on his face and then he’s suddenly kissing all over yours, mumbling “I knew it, I knew it” and what your sure was “I’m not crazy, I knew it was real”. This was frightening, your emotions were completely out of your control.

“It’s okay nothing bad is going to happen to you okay? I’m here, we’re together now like we were always supposed to be…god I love you so much”.

How could he say that?

If he was feeling as unstable as you were right now….what if both of your quirks happen to activate? Both of you are overflowing with some sort of power…One alone would do significant damage, but both of them together would yield catastrophic results.

The thoughts disappeared as abruptly as they’d appeared to begin with as you catch sight of the bite mark you’d left on his neck.

Every part of you belongs to me…you are mine, and mine alone, FOREVER!

The thought fills you to the brim with joy and your suddenly bursting with unrestrained love.

“Katsuki I love you, love me please, make love to me! I just want..no I need to feel you loving me” you don’t know if you interrupted him speaking or if your words even make sense. You tried to relay it through the connection you were apparently sharing, apparently he understood you through one way or another.

He started moving; Thrusting his cock deeper into you as your legs wrapped around him. You held him as close to you as possible, while still allowing him to move comfortably.

“Tell me what you feel baby, tell me everything” he needn’t elaborate, you immediately began spilling your guts.

“I feel…electricity…mixed with every single emotions Ive felt for you since we were kids…all those feelings are built up inside of me and it’s like my heart is about to burst! At the same time I feel all this power surging through me at the tips of my fingers and toes, like a single touch could just destroy everything if you weren’t here grounding me” you both moan in unison as he hits that particular spot inside of you. Stopping his thrusts he just rolls his hips forward and back, moving them in a circle and then alternating between the two. Each time the head of his cock presses into that spot and your seeing stars.

“The first time I felt this was when we were six years old wrestling in my back

Yard, do you remember that day?”

“Yeah, all the sudden you freaked out and pushed away from me…then you ran inside and wouldn’t come out of your room”

You’d been so sad that evening, thinking you had hurt him or upset him somehow. You had sobbed to your mother from the time you got home to the time you fell into a fit full sleep.

“Whenever we have prolonged skin to skin contact, this shit happens to me…Not when we’re just holding hands or something but touching somehow-Fuckkk” he growls biting his lip as your walls start clenching around his cock.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You hated the idea of him dealing with this all alone, no wonder he thought he was crazy.

“I was just waiting to see if eventually you’d experience it…before you thought I was a fuckin’ psycho Or obsessed with touching you, I dunno dammit!” He huffs before continuing his shallow thrusts, teasing you “It wasn’t ever THIS strong before, but it’s increased over the years, now it’s barely containable”.

Despite the pleasure fueled haze you’ve been stuck in, you notice something eerie. The smile Katsuki is wearing isn’t one you ever remember seeing before an instantly a feeling of cold dread creeps up your spine.

“I’ve never gotten the chance to see how much stronger my quirk could possibly be when I’m feeling like this” his fingers brush over his mark on your neck, before their encircling and squeezing your throat.

“Could you imagine that princess? Imagine this feeling manifesting into something greater than either one of us would ever possibly have become on our own?”

The look on his face is becoming more deranged, the black of his pupils expanding over the red of his irises.

“To think that having you, owning you mind, body, and soul could have created something so amazing…it’s unreal..incredible…What if I’d of let someone else get ahold of you? Then what would have happened?”.

These aren’t questions for you to answer, so you stare up at him, trying hard not to let your fear bleed outward.

“Of course plenty of dumb mother fuckers tried, even after I thought I’d sent that first message out so clearly, when you first tried to fuck around with my feelings”

You don’t remember what he’s referring to, you’ve never played him before…never even considered such an awful thing.

The hand on your throat gives another subtle squeeze, as he resumes dragging his cock in and out of you at an agonizing pace. Gradually speeding up as you begin to plead, he’d purposely been keeping you just at the edge of release. This build up was maddening in itself.

“Katsuki…please”

His thrusts switch to quick and painfully deep each times he bottoms out. Before you know it, tears are dribbling down your cheeks. You just wanted to enjoy making love with your mate, your best friend, your everything…and now it was falling apart.

“Don’t look so sad baby…it’s okay I promise, you need me to slow down?”

That did somewhat help.

“I love you more than anyone or anything in this whole world, I’ll never abandon you ever…you’ll always stay beside me for the rest of our lives” the words are so heartfelt and you can’t help but lose yourself in the intensity of his oh so love sick gaze. It’s hypnotizing, drawing you in deeper with every unintentionally soliloquy, every promise of undying devotion.

It’s like you can feel your very souls twisting and tying themselves together into a knot for all eternity.

All you needed was right here in bed with you, conjoined with your body.

Every one of your senses perceived the entirety of him, everything inside you felt tied to him.

Katsuki is everything…everything was & always will be Katsuki and you were just fine with that.

For now anyway.

✨Did you guys like the little animation thing I made this time & last time? Please let me know what you thought of them! I really wanna start doing these more often, maybe not every update, but for ones with certain photos/gif’s I find/make or have saved that assist with the imagery of the story✨

[yandere-sins]

I love the stuff you got here! Can I request for a yandere Dabi with a feisty darling? Thank you so much in advance!

Thanks for reading! Enjoy ^^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

All the kicking and screaming truly was a vain effort, but Dabi liked watching you trying your hardest nonetheless. Your body was writhing beneath him, legs pulled in to keep his hovering form from descending onto you, and your elbow in his throat to keep his mouth from closing in as well. “You stink!” you complained loudly, and Dabi smirked, knowing full well he didn’t take the time to wash up after the last mission.

Knowing it would bother you even more.

Sure, he could have been nice. Let you get accustomed to him through time—but why would he? It was so much more fun to destroy your will through the desperation that came with being unable to do anything against your captor. Dabi knew you cried yourself to sleep when you thought he was out for the day. That you got up to try and unlock the door. He even mumbled ‘in his sleep’ just to enjoy the seconds of silence as you held your breath. While you weren’t a game to him, this situation sure was.

However, by now, he wouldn’t have minded if he could have had just one calm evening with you. It didn’t matter to him that you were here for a week already or that he was crossing boundaries you wished him not to. Every time you spit into his face, Dabi felt the same thrill he only knew from burning enemies. But what you didn’t realize was that you were enabling him to do those cruel things even more. And frankly, despite the fun he was having, it was slowly getting exhausting to deal with you. Not even he knew how long he could keep up playing nice with you when you were challenging him every second you two were together.

“I didn’t think it would be so much trouble,” he sighed to no one in particular. Rolling his eyes away, even your struggles ceased for the moment as you raised an eyebrow. Luckily, you didn’t know what he meant, or you might have laughed at him. Still, truth be told, the whole ’falling in love’ seemed easier when presented in movies and the occasional manga he was handed.

Catching your free hand suddenly pushing into his face, Dabi grinned, sticking out his tongue to give it a lick, risking your reaction to his taunt. Repulsed, you pulled back, instead building a fist, but throwing your shoulder into his direction with it, you neglected the push on his throat, allowing him to dodge the punch by kissing you. See? Much better, he thought, nibbling at your teeth while your struggles grew angrier.

It had been a while since he got to kiss you, but your lips were still as soft and plush as he remembered them. Your taste lingering on his tongue almost made him proud, reminding him that you were using his toothbrush in an attempt to clean your teeth at all. He wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, was he? After all, he not only saved you from the mundane life you were slipping into, but he also cared for your well-being enough to allow you to use his property.

“Have you struggled enough?” he taunted you, only moving his lips inches away from yours to talk. Crushed under the weight of his body, and perhaps shocked by the sudden affection, you had stopped fighting for the moment, only to bare your teeth in frustration, snapping for him. Today wasn’t the day you were going to become docile—that much he understood.

Pity, really, but Dabi would survive it. Leaning down to escape your futile tries to bite him with another kiss, he reached up to your hand buried under his body until you were flinching too hard to return his affection. The singeing heat of blue flames licking at your wrist was enough to bring tears to your eyes. No matter how feisty, aggressive, and - in a cute way - defiant you were, in the eyes of danger and pain, you were nothing at all.

Not like Dabi didn’t know what he was getting into before capturing you. Diligent worker, just defender of society, and as sweet as a piece of cake. Mind you, he didn’t only mean your ass with that. Those were the three things he used to describe you when he asked for permission to bring you in. Shigeraki only, understandably, sighed at that, shaking his head as if Dabi’s arguments hadn’t been convincing, but it was one of the only favors he ever asked him for. One could think that you were a bit more grateful for his hard work, but no, at the end of that memory, you were crying.

“God, I hate you!” you screamed at him, tugging your wrist out of his grip. Oops, he thought, seeing the burn at your skin, and feeling the heat as well as you pulled it close to his face while covering your eyes. That would leave another mark for sure.

“That’s rough, sugar,” he pouted, trying to shove your arm away from your face, but you only stirred beneath him, trying to turn to the side. Now you were sulking. Even if it should have been him sulking after you’ve been mean to him all week. It wasn’t Dabi’s fault that he fell in love with you. Really, it wasn’t anyone’s, but you sure liked to blame him for it. But in the end, it was always him who was left scarred by your words, his heart throbbing sadly at how cold you were treating him.

However, as it seemed, you understood your place after the threat he burned into your wrist. Getting back onto his palms with an arm on either side of you, Dabi watched as you turned over, finally free of his weight. Pulling in your legs, your once so tough demeanor seemed to change. When you put down your arm, he could see how you were trying your best not to meet his eyes, staring stubbornly at the wall, but you still hadn’t lost your fire. Just like his blue flames raging all over you when you tried to defy him, your eyes were burning with the flames of hatred and frustration. Those flames had yet to turn into ash, but Dabi was happy to see you so alive after all.

Chuckling to himself, he gave you a disgusting smooch to the cheek. Too long, too wet, too unwelcome to be anything but a statement. “I won,” that’s what it said, and the flames in your eyes only began to stir more from the arrogance Dabi was displaying to you.

“You’ll find out it’s not too bad with me soon enough,” he promised, stretching as he got off you. You didn’t move now, didn’t react to his words, and it was a behavior he knew all too well by now. Funnily, you were trying to scold him by ignoring him. It wasn’t working, but it amused him enough to wear a broad grin on his lips. Have it your way if you so pleased, but Dabi decided to take a shower with your shared toothbrush to let off some steam. There was so much more he could do to you that you feared to even think about. So much more that he could break your feisty attitude with. But he was waiting to use it at the right moment. The moment it would make the biggest impact on your life.

The pillow hitting his back only made a sad ‘thud’ before falling to the floor. Looking back over his shoulder curiously, Dabi saw you sitting on the bed, your arm still up in the air after your throw and lines of fallen tears adorning your cheeks. Ah, your cuteness knew no limits, frustration plastered all over your face. Frustration with him, your situation, everything. You hated him, and Dabi loved you for it.

Picking the pillow up from the ground, he sauntered back towards you. A short, rampant outburst of blue flames cooked the poor fabric and feathers into mere dust that dispersed in the room. His grin only grew uncomfortably broad, staples tearing at the charred skin. Your eyes grew wide like a deer in the headlights as you looked at him, almost as if you had a sudden realization.

How dumb of him to not notice earlier when he was toying with you.

Notice that the moment he had been waiting for was already there.

[a-lil-perspective]

I can't recall if you've done these and ignore me if you have, but the Bad Batch's reactions to learning their SO is pregnant and/or how they would decorate their child's room? ^v^

Omg I love this so much okay yes thank you for enabling me also sorry these are so long I love getting elbow-deep in delicate feelings.

Also how about pregnancy reveal and how they each decorate the room. :)

—

Hunter: To the surprise of *flips through notes* absolutely no one, this man has a breeding kink. I’ve alluded to it time over again but now I’m full on saying it. He wants to get his S/O pregnant. Like, it’s his dream, the idea of making a baby, fathering a child. It’s such an intimate process for him and he y e a r n s. He doesn’t know much about parenting but he’s willing and eager. Hunter doesn’t let his inhibitions hold him back; he’s able to adapt and figure it out as he goes. He’s not worried. His leadership disposition works in his favor here to give him that boost of confidence most new fathers lack.

So back to the pregnancy reveal. Thing is, Hunter knows before the S/O does, which I’ve touched upon in the past—well, he doesn’t “know”, per se. He doesn’t know that she’s pregnant. He just knows something is different about her. Even before any physical symptoms emerge to serve as an indicator. His heightened senses are already on it. Her scent has changed, almost imperceptibly, but enough to be of notice. She carries herself differently. And is she glowing?

He can’t quite put a finger on it. She catches him staring numerous times, this mystified expression on his face. She asks him about it, but he shrugs it off each time. He doesn’t allude to his findings until he’s 100% certain what it even is.

When she tells him she’s pregnant, the biggest grin spreads across his face. A whole salvo of emotions swirl in his chest all at once; pride, excitement, purpose. This man is so soft. His eyes shine. Think every soft expression he has ever directed towards Omega but x1000. His voice is reduced to a whisper, because a part of him can’t believe it even though their every intimate interaction has prioritized conception up until this point. He’s absolutely elated. And maybe a bit smug because yeah, he knew it he didn’t and yeah, they did this. They made this. Life.

He holds her close and doesn’t ever want to let go. He showers her in kisses and praises and full on worships her, thanks her, telling her he’s the luckiest man alive. His hands rest on her stomach, longing for the day he can cradle it, and then the baby itself. He can’t wait to be a Papa.

As to how they decorate, well, I’ve also talked about this, and I’m thinking they go with a very minimal look. They (Hunter) initially wrestled with sharp gray and crimson accents, like his squad colors. Because Hunter Junior is an honorary member. But they settle for something more muted and mellow; as it should be for a baby. And in a way, it’s the first step towards sequestering this precious being away from the influence of war. Soft yellow walls. Lightweight curtains that allow for sunlight. Padding and plushes to surround her in comfort. A sense of normalcy that Hunter himself is just as quickly acclimating to.

Wrecker: Has absolutely no clue beforehand. He’s too busy being concerned over the sickness that’s been ailing her for weeks now. He feels so helpless, he can’t sleep, she can’t sleep, he doesn’t know what to do with himself or how to help her. She assures him she’s fine, it’s probably just a bug, but Wrecker assumes the worst.

When he finds out she’s pregnant, he straight up cries. In relief, in joy, because he’s honestly so excited. He thinks it’s the greatest thing ever. His trepidations only come later, once the dust has settled and it’s quiet, he’s lying awake at night alone to his thoughts, fearing for how him and his brashness will fare in the presence of something so delicate, so… small. What if the S/O suddenly doesn’t want to raise this baby with him, doesn’t trust him to keep them safe and out of harm’s way? What if they need to be kept safe from… him.

He bottles up all his worries.

And she knows something is wrong, because Wrecker is a terrible liar, and subtlety has never been his strong suit. His dejected state hangs thick in the air and it’s suffocating. She finally sits him down and forces him to fess up.

Her heart breaks when he tells her everything.

It takes several months, almost the entire course of the pregnancy for Wrecker to build up enough confidence to be assured in his capabilities; the ability to perform with finesse in the presence of their fragile child. Or, children. Daddy Wrecker does just fine with his twin girls.

Wrecker goes all out with the décor. Bold, bright colors infuse the walls, with some cute baby animal prints to accentuate. There’s a particular fondness for duckling wallpaper. Also, plushies everywhere. Lula is the leader of the pack and watches over the twins. :)

Tech: The resident nerd is a bit oblivious. While he keeps meticulous track of her monthly cycles, Tech gets distracted easily and is quick to hyper fixate on literally all other matters while the S/O is over here questioning if she’s pregnant because she’s late. She actually brings it up to him in passing and the idiot (affectionate) is too engrossed in something else to offer any advice other than a noncommittal hum in response.

She understands and respects his dedication to his work but it’s still a bit disheartening when she reads the positive test all on her own, Tech nowhere to be found. Her hormones are all out of wack and they’re dangerous, because suddenly his oscillating priorities are maddening. She’s trying to tell him she’s pregnant god dammit and she has to practically yell it in his face.

That gets his attention. That gets his attention real quick.

He halts everything. His work entirely forgotten. He blinks at her.

It takes a moment, but his face lights up, eyes wide behind his thick frames, and he surges forward and picks her up before spinning them both around and it’s a joviality so rare for Tech that he dedicates solely to her in that moment. When he sets her down he’s sporting this haughty grin because once again the nerd is pleased with the essence of his work and all that entails. The S/O’s temper has completely abated by this point and she’s laughing, sharing his sense of satisfaction.

“You are with child?” He confirms and the eager nod he receives makes his heart flutter.

Maker, Tech’s heart soars.

He apologizes profusely for his absence as of late and his sudden penance has her slinging her arms around his neck and kissing him fervently to shut him up. Nothing else matters. They’re gonna have a baby. A baby genius, no less.

Decorations: Lots of options actually. Think “Steampunk but make it soft”. Maybe gadgets and gizmos, with a largely geometrical theme. Or locomotives. Maybe even nautical. Tech might even incorporate a bit of everything. Dad!Tech is nothing if not versatile.

Crosshair: Complex sniper man. I’m sure you are wondering about his reaction most.

It’s definitely the most nerve-wracking.

Because with Crosshair it’s a different kind of atmosphere, a different kind of approach to be made. It’s not exactly an open invitation or a shared fervor; in fact discussions of pregnancy and child rearing with him are largely taboo. It’s the kind of solemnity that has you holding your breath as you await the approaching storm. The S/O is on pins and needles. The pregnancy comes at not the most opportune time, and she’s conjuring up every possible reaction, every possible outcome in her mind. She’s literally made herself sick over it.

A plight not lost on Crosshair.

He knows she hasn’t been feeling too hot lately, and while he’s yet to uncover the reasoning, he’s been watching her closely (as if he’s ever not). He’s at her side taking care of her when she’s been too exhausted, physically and mentally, to get out of bed. He makes sure she eats, rests, and recoups. Even though she seemingly wants nothing to do with him and shuts him out with each passing day.

She’s known about the pregnancy for three weeks.

That’s how long it takes for Crosshair to finally confront her, when he can no longer stand to see her avoid him, his gaze, his very touch. It’s a broodiness he himself enacts well and with her he’s just not having it.

So he asks her what’s going on with barely restrained frustration. His expression is far more even-tempered, controlled.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

She hates the lump forming in her throat, bobbing against his fingers that hold her chin. Her voice quivers, an apology ready on her tongue as she chokes out, “I’m pregnant.”

Two life-changing words, but Crosshair’s face could reveal otherwise.

It reveals nothing.

The silence seems to stretch between them. She forces herself to hold his gaze, the one that somehow breaches her very soul while his own remains ever-elusive.

She grips his biceps as desperation claws its way to the surface. “Please don’t be mad—”

He pulls her to his chest then, with urgency, his arms wrapping protectively and decisively around her. He swallows down his immediate offense; the one that surges over the impression that he’ll leave at the first sign of inconvenience (even if it is a knee-jerk reaction). That he’ll leave her. The love of his goddamn life.

Crosshair is a man of few words, but his embrace is a conduit of soothing ones. She cries into his chest, in love, in anguish and apprehension for the morrow, but assurance in knowing he’ll be there. She misses the resolution shaping his face. He’s here to stay.

They stay like that for a long time. Holding on.

He kisses her head, and after what feels like hours, rasps out, “I’ll take care of you.” His hand falls low to her front. “Both of you.”

Crosshair loves decorating his child’s room. It’s oddly liberating for him. His aesthetic flare makes for a beautiful, tasteful room. He paints the majority of it by hand. He’s rather quite proud of himself. Soft accents surround an environmental theme, a reflection of his work as a sharpshooter, exposed to different elements where he nestles into a sniper’s vernacular and adapts; much like with fatherhood. Forests and meadows and botanical blends pervade the walls of the nursery. It’s peaceful to Crosshair. It feels right to him. He thinks baby will like it, too.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Sleep Paralysis (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You hated sharing a room with another person. Especially when it came to sleeping. Which usually resulted into you staying awake for the night if you were teamed up with someone. Sometimes you could not escape exhaustion, though.

Words: 2,381

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insomnia, experiencing sleep paralysis, anxiety, TFATWS spoilers (I don’t think there are any but just to be sure I guess), Zemo awakens the poet in me idk, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The people you found yourself teamed up with gave you safety. Sam, Bucky & even Zemo. With the three of them on your side, you had nothing to fear. Missions with these guys were easy. If the two grown ass men children were not occupied with killing the other grown ass man child. Names were not needed here, that was explanation enough. You were surprised yourself when you started enjoying Zemo’s company. He was a criminal. He was supposed to be the bad guy. So why could you not view him as such? Was it the way he moved his body? Was it his hair which fell in place just perfectly imperfect? Was it his coat that accentuated the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders alone? Was it his smile that was just the tiniest bit bigger whenever he glanced at you? Was it that stupid head tilt thing that was everything but stupid to you? What the hell was it? And why the hell was resisting your urges so damn hard?

Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could have sworn that his eyes fell on you, no matter how big the crowd. You could have sworn that his body searched out your presence wherever you went. There was this unspoken thing between you guys. As much as you wanted to address the tension building up, you were apprehensive what your best friends would say about it. You were doubtful how he would receive the news. Your ever growing friendship was at risk. The mere thought of having to live your life without him was inconceivable. How did it work before he came along? It was like your brain erased those memories altogether. Truthfully, he changed your life around without having an idea of the effect he had on you. Or he did know but enjoyed messing with your feelings. Though he did not strike you as that type of man.

Countless nights were spent with you having deep, meaningful conversations. Thanks to those times, you perceived his side of the story. His motives & what drove him to the actions that brought him behind bars in the end. By no means were you trying to justify his crimes. There would have been multiple different ways. Back then, the only purpose for him was revenge. Apologies that came too late were given. Zemo truly was sorry. And while words & emotions could be faked easily, it was impossible to hide the deeper meaning that his eyes held. The softness, the wariness, he could not simulate this. Those beautiful brown orbs were withholding years worth of tears. It was not your position to force him to display his weakness in front of you. Sometimes, simply knowing that another person was available if needed, that was enough.

The same feeling of secureness was provided by him. Your past was not necessarily pleasant either. Innumerable regrets labeled your existence. You were not a good example of a hero. Every day, you contemplated the what-if’s. Overthinking was part of your diurnal routine. All the pondering was needless. The switch only shifted after the beginnings of Zemo’s nocturnal reassurances. Without him, you would still be stuck in that gloomy pit your body had constructed on its own. You two were reliant on each other. Not physically but mentally. Unpretentiously, small touches followed. Brushing his thumbs over your smooth skin on the back of your hand. Squeezing your shoulders gingerly. Goosebumps erupted each time his body warmth was transferred to yours. Whether he wore his leather gloves or not, your body responded with endless fireworks that launched from deep inside.

The hotel you entered radiated wealth. Zemo negotiated the reservations. Which was obvious by the mere impression of the lofty ceilings that were embellished with immense sparkling chandeliers. Your eyes overstrained from the extravagance, switching from one highlight to the next. As a regular citizen, your income denied you such a lifestyle. Avengers did not earn a fortune, this trait came with the job description. Meaning that you would savor every little ticking of your stay. The marvelous high of contentment ceased when the receptionist informed you of an immutable adjustment concerning your room situation. The only two vacant premises were a king size in one & two singles in the other. Apparently, the decision was resolved without you having a say in it. Your questions were answered with a definite proclamation. You were the only soul unable to kill the Baron. Your attempts to conceal your embarrassment were unsuccessful. The smirk adorning Zemo’s features was unhelpful in your current position. Sam & Bucky abandoned you in the entrance, heading off to their room to rest after a tiring mission.

Zemo demanded your luggage to be brought up to your chambers. One of his hands rested on your lower back. This motion warmed your body. It was so simple yet filled with extensive care. It should have been wrong but you have never felt more protected in your entire life. One thing worried you. Sharing a room with the man who brought out your true happiness. It was no secret that you suffered from insomnia. Usually, it vanished after indefinite missions. The interminable flight in Zemo’s private jet added up to your exhaustion. Under no circumstances would you sleep in a room with the Baron. The trust existed, that was not the issue. What happened during your slumber could not be controlled. The tossing, turning, screaming. Nightmares invaded your dreams every time you closed your eyes. Therefore, you obviated sleep as long as possible. Multiple cups of coffee, the heavy does of caffeine every day, aided your wish to stay up. If you narrated a good enough excuse, he would not inquire. At least, that was what you hoped.

Stepping through the tall door into the spacious room, you stopped dead in your tracks. You needed a second to take everything in. Never before had you occupied such a luxurious chamber. It resembled a suite. Different shades of warm colors complemented each other. The vast windows enabled your view of the city beneath. Colorful lights brought the dead of the dim night to life. Facing the stars aligning the somber night sky, Zemo arranged himself next to you. Minutes of silence enveloped you, filling the room to the brink. The man next to you fractured the quietness with whispers. He pointed out various constellations. Observantly, you absorbed his words. He was cultured but never bragged about it. His sentiment of deliberate timing was unique. One of his characteristics was fathoming when to quit talking. Or when it was suitable to speak. Zemo constantly knew how to ease the tension with his thoughtful comments.

“You take the bed. I am content with resting on the couch.” he proposed. As much as you appreciated his deliberation, you pronounced the contrary.

“No, Helmut. I won’t sleep anyway, you can have the bed.” your gentle smile underlined the tiredness emanating from your eyes. He tilted his head to one side, observing your body language.

“You have not rested after our mission yet. Not even during the flight where Sam, James & I slept.” he annotated, worry audible in his voice. Your shoulders lifted in a short shrug. Alleging that you were fine. Spending hours with you concluded to him comprehending your lies. Your features were different whenever you attempted feigning him. Approaching your figure in the barely illuminated room, he halted a few steps away from you. Movements of his hands caught your attention. The gloves were peeled off. Lifting one of his arms, you shivered when his skin touched your cheek affectionately. His fingers caressed your face so lovingly, your eyes closed instinctively. “You are exhausted, darling.” his words were soft, soothing your ears by the fragility of them. The space between you two was narrow. You breathed the same air. His body heat passed onto you. Your heart sped up, almost as if it could break out any second. Nobody had ever made you feel that way. Nodding obediently, Zemo dragged you closer to the soft mattress covered with silk sheets. It was a desired invitation. It did not last long before you gave in. The smooth material welcomed you. Realizing Zemo’s retreating steps, your hand reached for his wrist, freezing his tries. He glanced over his shoulder bewildered.

“Stay.” it was music to his ears, hearing your quiet proposition. Holding himself back, he shook his head briefly. A signal that he did not want to disturb you. “Please.” his face softened at your plea. How could he resist your sweet voice? How could he resist you when it was obvious that you wished for him to stay with you?

“Okay.” pulling back the blankets, he lied right behind you. Your back was facing him. The shock was only brief when your hand searched for his arm. Draping it over your waist, you sighed contently when he embraced you tighter. It was not just what you needed. This, it was required by him as well.

Peaceful hours of cuddling went by without disruption. The calm was interrupted by your eyes snapping open in fear. Your back was against the mattress. Staring at the tall ceiling, your breath quickened when you could not move. Could not talk. Could not scream. There was not a single thing that could be done but you awaited the bad that would arrive soon. It was not the first time you experienced such a situation. The pressure in your chest grew steadily, obstructing your breathing. Your muscles ached, your head pounded. Someone would murder you. If you did not rise soon, death would come knocking on your door. Your attempts to push away the sheets & your labored breath stirred the man next to you awake. His confusion ended when he noticed your struggles. Propping his head onto one of his arms, he scooted closer to your body. Zemo knew what you were going through at the moment. While he had never suffered from such a period himself, he had read about it. Your eyes widened when his locked onto yours. The fear was visible even without a light illuminating the room. His free hand moved to your cheek. In the process, he whispered sweet nothings to you in hopes that they would reach you. Irregular breaths were still very much present. Though you had him with you, your anxiety was acting up still. Your mind was determined that you would die in a few minutes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Darling, look at me.” your eyes slowly shifted from the ceiling to his dark, almost black ones. They were a beautiful shade of brown but it was too sinister to detect the different hues. “There you go.” his voice was steady, controlled. “What you are experiencing is called sleep paralysis. It means that you are awake but your body is asleep still. It will be over soon, I promise. This might feel life threatening to you but I’m here, okay? I am here with you & I will not let anything happen to you.” his eyebrows raised expectantly. The most you could give him was a useless attempt of a nod. His fingers stroked over your skin, bringing you comfort. You were not on your own. Zemo held you close to his body. Still unable to move, the one thing you could feel was his body heat. Minutes without change went by. Affirmations were whispered into the quiet of the ample room. Your leg shuffled the blankets. A small smile crept onto your face. Finally, you had control again. Your muscles were no longer frozen in place. Overwhelmed by the sudden liberty, you embraced Zemo into a tight hug. Reciprocating immediately, he held your head in place in the crook of his neck. His other arm raked around your waist, keeping you as close as possible. He assured you that you were alright. That nobody & nothing could hurt you. Not when he was around. The silent tears rolling down your cheeks were inevitable. They stained his shirt but he could not care less. All that mattered was you overcoming the feeling of uncontrollability. Maybe it was his explanation. Or his proximity. Or his sweet words calming you down. In the end, the cause was insignificant. Zemo helped you through this & there were no words to express your gratitude to him.

Pulling away slightly, he rested his forehead against yours. You mimicked his deep breaths, disposing of the last bits of worry. When you were in his presence, it was gratuitous to be fearful. Demons had no chance. Not when it came to Zemo. The next reaction came naturally. This time, you did not fight the urge to press your lips onto his. You took his breath away by the unexpected action. There were no complaints from his side. Both hands rested on your face, bringing you closer if it was even feasible. In your imagination, you recalled kissing Zemo to be heated. This right now was the exact opposite. No words could depict what emotions were rushing through your entire body. Descriptions were useless if you could demonstrate it with a simple kiss. After it ended, silence sheathed you two once again. It was everything but unpleasant. He kept holding onto you. Zemo would never judge you because of nightmares or similar occurrences. Your head rested on his chest, above his heart. The beat calming your nerves even further. Explaining that you had always suffered from the monsters of the night, he did not interrupt. You needed to confide & he was more than happy to be available. Another soft kiss was pressed on top of your head. A content sigh left your lips. Zemo assured you that he would stay, no matter what. He was in this for good. Whatever this was. Time would clarify the relationship between you two. All you knew was that it felt right. Having him close to you. Having him as your protector. Having him to brighten up your days. Simply having him. That was adequate. That was your unspoken wish. You expected a lot but you did not expect the fulfillment of a previous unknown dream. You were home.

Published (04/21/2021) by Cathy

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[fedonciadale]

I was talking to a friend about prophecies in LOTR, and she made some reference about Tolkien using Catholic word choice (something along those lines?) and that’s how he made the prophecy work (like switching things around?) I was just like “yeah, totally” because I was too embarrassed to ask. Can you explain this please? I am not Catholic, but I love reading LOTR series and would like to understand more. Thanks!

Hi there!

I'm not entirely sure, if this is a Catholic thing. I always thought that Tolkien's catholicism is visible in how he handles redemption arcs and the subject of pity, remorse, sin and salvation.

I think one of the most important things about LotR is that Frodo, the hero, fails. He fails because he is a fragile human being who cannot resist the pull of the Ring forever. At the same time, the task itself is fulfilled, and this happens because Bilbo and Frodo both at a much earlier point chose pity. The Bagginses (and to a certain extent Sam's) pity for Gollum is the one crucial lynchpin that makes a good ending possible. It's not a reward for their persistence, it's a gift that comes unexpectedly from one of their good deeds.

The prophecies and visions in LotR are not necessarily catholic I'd say, only in the sense that it is difficult to interprete them correctly and that they can mean something completely different than what seems to be obvious.

Some prophecies are straigth forward. "From ashes the fire will rise" (or something like that) is a prophecy of Aragorn's rise to kingship and there is not much room to wriggle around that. Other prophecies are more ambiguous. Aragorn has to choose the "Paths of the Dead" to bring help to Gondor and this is ambiguous and a bit ominous, but there is a solution where he doesn't have to die. Finding the right meaning helps our heroes to move forward. Using the "paths of the Dead" but as Isildur's heir is the solution that enables Aragorn to use the terrible ghosts to his advantage.

Then there are visions that show truth but can only be understood at the right moment. Sam sees Frodo lying as if sleeping of the path of Cirith Ungol but only when this really happens does Sam understand that Frodo was "dead" in his vision. Frodo is not really dead, but the important thing is that this "understanding" makes Sam take the ring - that doesn't fall into the Orcs' hands as a result.

Sometimes prophecies and visions can be misleading as well (and this is a trope that is older than catholicism). Denethor has a vision of the ships from Umbar sailing towards Minas Tirith and despairs because he doesn't know that Aragorn and help is on the ships. The people of Laketown have a prophecy about the river and the lake turning to gold when the King under the Mountain returns, and this prophecy gets fulfilled in a gruesome way when Smaug the dragon attacks their town and the river runs golden because of the fire that rains on the town.

So, Tolkien loved to play with prophecies and use them in different ways and not straight forward. We know that he thought that the prophecy in MacBeth and the solution about the forest coming down to tear MacBeth from his throne was a bit lame. He invented Ents to have a realy walking and vengeful forest!

If you had asked me, what I think gives Catholic vibes in Tolkien I would not have named the prophecies, to be honest. All in all, the catholicism is clearly there, but it's more about the low and deep currents than about the surface if you get what I mean.

People fail and they can be forgiven. Middle Earth is beautiful but it is not perfect. In the long run good acts pay off in ways we might not forsee. Boromir regrets his failure and saves Pippin and Merry. Merry saves Eowyn and Pippin saves Faramir. Boromir's sacrifice was not in vain. Bilbo pities Gollum and lets him live, so does Frodo and later Sam. Gollums - a tortured soul - betrays Frodo but in the end it is Gollum who saves the world because Frodo, the hero, failed.

It is never explicit. Gandalf says that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring but not by Sauron. By whom? The Valar? Illuvater himself? This question is never answered.

Thanks for the ask! It is a very interesting subject!