#that that is not something that raises suspicion

[icarryitin]

Candles

spencer reid/gn!reader

happy 26th anniversary of my escape from the womb, as a celebration pls enjoy this lil smth smth while i spend the evening eating a whole cake by myself🧡

masterlist

word count: 1.3k // warnings: zero just vibes, also glasses reid comes with his own warning🫡

It’s been a mission and a half, keeping it all under wraps. Penelope’s been the worst, but you managed to convince her not to put a reminder on everyone’s calendar - a new sparkly unicorn friend for her desk collection was enough to satiate her. For this year, at least.

Birthdays aren’t what they used to be.

They used to be a month long affair, sparkly and exciting. Now it’s just a day. You might get a couple of cards from a couple of family members, you might treat yourself to a takeout so you don’t have to cook, you might watch your favourite movie. It’s nothing special anymore, but you don’t mind that. It’s just a part of growing up.

Which is exactly why you’d expressly forbidden Garcia from organising any kind of celebration when she’d cornered you in the elevator about it last week. You’re still a relatively shiny new toy in the BAU, and being the centre of attention isn’t one of your strong suits anymore. You’re happy to let it pass largely unnoticed by your colleagues. She can do something next year, for sure, when you’re settled in properly. Provided there are no cases that demand attention.

Your back still aches from the flight back yesterday evening, nobody ever said sleeping sitting up is good for you. But, thankfully, it means that everyone’s been too swamped in paperwork today to have noticed Penelope’s extremely subtle efforts to make the day a little easier for you. Her way of celebrating, you were never going to get away that easily. A coffee this morning, a muffin from the café when she came back from her lunch break, she’d even called you into The Lair to present you with a card. Secretly, of course, so as not to arouse suspicion. It’s tucked away in your bag now, safe and sound. Glitter and all.

“Goodnight, my loves.” She appears in your field of vision, blonde head bobbling over the divider between your desk and Morgan’s.

You raise your hand to wave, but the occupant of the desk to your right is far too engrossed in the file to notice. It’s just the three of you left in the office - Penelope, you, and Spencer. Even Hotch has gone, armed with a stack of case files and a furrowed brow.

“See you in the morning, P.” It doesn’t take a lot of effort to return her smile, however tired you might be. That’s the thing about Penelope Garcia, you’ve learned, her energy is kind of infectious. She totters over to your desk with a sly look over at Reid, who still doesn’t appear to be paying any attention.

“Happy Birthday.” She whispers, throwing you an exaggerated wink. Okay, maybe you feel a little bit guilty about depriving her of the celebration she wanted to give you.

And then she’s off, and it’s just you and Reid and the occasional quiet tapping of keyboards, the sifting of papers.

You’ve been absorbed by a file, checking and double checking your additions to the report are accurate, so you don’t really pay Reid any mind when he wanders off towards the kitchen. Your red pen is out, scribbling on an extra copy of the notes. The Unsub on this case had been crafty, but not crafty enough, and your confidence is growing with the handful of takedowns now under your belt. It’s nice to feel like you’re contributing to the team’s success - it’s still your rookie year, but your handcuffs are a little less shiny than they were. You’re about to start typing up your amendments when there’s a noise behind you, like someone clearing their throat. They do it again, a little louder, a little less unsure. It’s unexpected to say the least, the image you’re presented with when you turn in your chair.

Doctor Spencer Reid - adjacent desk mate, awkward stakeout buddy, bespectacled distraction - is holding a small plate out to you, one single cupcake in the centre. There’s a birthday candle stuck in the chocolate swirled icing, just the one, tiny flame wobbling away in the air conditioning. He looks nervous, but there’s a glint in his eye hiding behind his glasses. You wonder what kind of threats Penelope made to get him to do this.

“Garcia said you didn’t want a fuss,” He starts rambling, “So, I figured I would wait until there were less people around and - well, it looks like it’s just us now.”

You’re fumbling for something to say, anything.

“This was - yeah, this was a bad idea, wasn’t it? You didn’t want a fuss and I did this and now you-“

“It’s okay.” You say, finally finding your voice. Matching smiles start to grow, slowly, and the lingering awkwardness evaporates.

It’s hard not to play up the childish wonder of it all - even in the beige and navy confines of the BAU office. Reid still holds the cupcake out towards you as you squeeze your eyes shut, nose wrinkled. Making a wish. You’re not really sure what it is you’re wishing for, maybe it’s that you’ll settle in with the team for the long term, maybe it’s that you’ll catch every bad guy until there’s none left, maybe it’s that a certain teammate will keep looking at you with those big old eyes and a hint of a smile on his face. Whatever it is, it’s good enough, and you open your eyes slowly. Leaning forward, one small puff of breath extinguishes the little candle. Birthday ritual complete. You’re sure Reid has a fun fact about the history of birthday celebrations and the burning of foodstuffs, but you don’t ask just yet. He’s still holding the plate out to you.

“Split it with me?”

His answering grin is contagious, you’ve no choice but to return it as he turns on his heel to hunt down a knife from the kitchen.

“And since it’s just the two of us,” He chatters on his way back from the kitchen, a second plate and butter knife in tow, “I won’t even make you wear the birthday hat.”

There’s a birthday hat, good lord. You’re glad you managed to hold Penelope off for one year, even if it’s the only one she’ll let you have.

“You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“There’s always next year.” Reid is grinning into his half of the cupcake, deliberately not watching you process the fact that you will absolutely be wearing the birthday hat this time next year. But it’s surprisingly heartwarming to hear that he thinks you’ll be with the team for your next birthday. Not that you don’t expect to be, but having confirmation that the others believe it too makes you feel a little fuzzy.

“At least I caught Garcia before she organised a street party, a card and a cupcake do me just fine.” Your words are muffled around the mouthful of cake and icing.

“Oh, she didn’t do this.”

You don’t follow. That much must be clear on your face, because he presses on.

“I made a batch, but then Penelope said you wanted low-key. So I only brought one.”

He made it?

He made it. For you.

If he wasn’t hurtling towards inappropriate crush territory already, he sure is now.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that it’s the first time you use his name. Not Doctor, not Reid, just Spencer. He’s noticed too, if the blush steadily creeping up his cheeks is anything to go by. But you don’t want him to steam up his glasses, and you definitely don’t want to dig yourself in any deeper - so you ask him about birthday candles, an answer he’s more than happy to provide between the last mouthfuls of cupcake and remaining file reports.

Maybe the work birthday thing isn’t so bad, you’ll just have to find that hat before next year.

the canyouniverse is back with a vengeance baybieeee 🧡🧡 i’m love them sm (and you!! for reading!!!)

[estellan0vella]

What Goes Up, Must Come Down ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna & Toji (REQUESTED) Masterlist

You lean in for a goodbye kiss, expecting a quick peck. Instead, Gojo Satoru pulls you in, kissing you deeply and passionately. You finally pull away, breathless. "See you later," you murmur, heading out the door.

As soon as you're gone, Gojo looks down and realizes he's in trouble. "Oh no," he mutters, staring at the obvious bulge in his pants. He has a meeting with the higher-ups in ten minutes, and he can’t show up like this.

He paces around the room, chanting, "Icebergs, taxes, Yaga in a tutu, Gakuganji in panties." Nothing works. He tries doing some jumping jacks, but that only makes things worse.

Desperate, he grabs a cushion from the couch and places it strategically over his lap, attempting to meditate the problem away. "Breathe in, breathe out," he tells himself.

But his mind keeps drifting back to the electrifying kiss you shared just moments ago, and his body responds accordingly. Gojo curses under his breath, realizing he's running out of time.

With a last-ditch effort, he splashes cold water on his face, hoping the shock will jolt him back to reality. It helps a little, but not enough. Gojo considers canceling the meeting altogether, but that would only raise suspicions.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the problem subsides. He quickly grabs his coat and heads out the door, hoping no one notices his flushed face or the slight disarray of his clothes.

You’re not sure why you decided to kiss Suguru so fervently this morning, but the moment your lips touch his, something ignites. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. When you finally pull away, his pupils are dilated, breath coming in short gasps.

“Wow,” he mutters, clearly affected. You glance down and see the prominent bulge in his pants. He shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, I might need a moment.”

You chuckle, feeling a bit proud of the effect you have on him. “I didn’t think I’d get you this worked up.”

He gives you a lopsided grin, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “Well, you did. Now what?”

You look around and spot a nearby chair. “Sit down, relax for a bit. I’m sure it’ll pass.”

Suguru nods, taking a seat and trying to focus on anything but his current predicament. You watch him, amused, as he fidgets, crossing and uncrossing his legs.

“You know,” you say teasingly, “you could think about something unsexy. Like… taxes.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Taxes? Really?”

“Hey, it works for some people.”

Suguru sighs, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll give it a try, but no promises.”

You sit across from him, trying not to laugh as he closes his eyes, clearly attempting to will his arousal away. After a few minutes, he opens one eye and looks at you. “Any luck?”

“Not really. Thinking about you makes it worse.”

You smile sweetly. “Sorry, not sorry.”

He groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Only if you’re lucky,”

Nanami is composed, always so composed. But when you kiss him like that, really kiss him, you see his carefully maintained facade slip just a bit.

“Darling,” he starts, voice steady but with an undercurrent of strain. “I need a minute.”

You glance down, and sure enough, there’s the telltale bulge. You suppress a giggle, earning a mildly reproachful look from him.

“Sorry, Ken,” you say, trying to sound sincere but failing miserably. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

He sighs, adjusting his tie in a futile attempt to regain composure. “I suppose it’s a pleasant sort of trouble.”

“Maybe think about your schedule for the day?”

Nanami shakes his head. “I’d rather not associate this feeling with work, thank you.”

You laugh softly. “Fair point. How about something mundane? Grocery shopping?”

He hums thoughtfully, closing his eyes. “That could work.”

You watch as he takes a few deep breaths, his expression gradually relaxing. After a few minutes, he opens his eyes, looking more composed.

“Better?” you ask.

He nods, standing and adjusting his suit once more. “Yes, much. Thank you.”

You lean in for a quick peck, and he chuckles. “Careful now, or we’ll be right back where we started.”

You grin. “Would that be so bad?”

Nanami shakes his head with a smile. “No, but I do have to go. I’ll see you later.”

You pull Choso in for a long, steamy kiss, your lips melding perfectly with his. As you step back, you notice his dazed expression and chuckle.

"See you soon," you whisper, leaving him standing there, flustered. Choso blinks, trying to process what just happened. He looks down, realizing his body's reaction to the kiss, and groans.

He quickly finds a secluded corner, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths. As he waits for his arousal to subside, Mahito walks by, giving him a knowing grin.

"Having a bit of trouble there, Choso?" Mahito teases.

Choso glares at him, crossing his arms. "Mind your own business," he snaps, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

Mahito chuckles, unfazed by Choso's irritation. "Just offering my assistance."

Choso rolls his eyes. "I don't need your help with anything."

Mahito shrugs, still wearing that irritating smirk. "Suit yourself. But if you ever want some pointers on how to handle these situations, you know where to find me."

Choso grits his teeth, resisting the urge to lash out at the curse. Instead, he focuses on his breathing, willing his body to calm down. After what feels like an eternity, his arousal finally begins to subside.

"Better?" Mahito asks, still grinning.

Choso nods curtly, pushing himself off the wall. "Much."

Mahito chuckles, patting him on the shoulder as he walks away. "Just remember, Choso, there's no shame in enjoying yourself."

"Piss off,"

Your lips crash into Sukuna’s with a fervor that surprises even you. His reaction is immediate, his grip on your waist tightening as he deepens the kiss. When you finally pull away, there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes, but then you notice his predicament.

“Leaving already?” Sukuna teases, his voice a low growl. “I thought we were just getting started.”

You glance down and see the obvious bulge in his pants. You smirk, feeling a bit smug. “Looks like you’ll need a moment.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You think you can just walk away after that?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re not exactly in a position to chase me right now.”

Sukuna chuckles, the sound dark and rich. “Perhaps not, but you’ll pay for this later.”

You grin, unphased by his threat. “I’ll be waiting.”

He shifts, clearly trying to will his arousal away. You watch him with a mixture of amusement and admiration. It’s rare to see Sukuna at a disadvantage, even a small one.

“Need some help?” you offer teasingly.

He gives you a look that could melt steel. “Unless you’re offering more than just words, I’ll handle it.”

You laugh, stepping back. “Alright, tough guy. I’ll leave you to it.”

He grumbles something under his breath, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. After a few moments, he opens them again, more composed.

“Better?” you ask innocently.

Sukuna smirks. “For now. But I’ll remember this.”

You wink. “I’m counting on it.”

Toji is used to being in control, but your goodbye kiss throws him off balance. He grins at you, trying to play it cool, but you can see the slight tension in his posture.

"See you later, Toji," you say sweetly.

He gives you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, sure. Just... give me a sec."

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. "Why? Something wrong?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

You laugh and pat his cheek. "You love it."

As you walk away, Toji watches you with a mix of amusement and desire. He can't help but admire your confidence and the way you always manage to keep him on his toes. But as you disappear from view, he's left alone with his thoughts, and a certain physical reaction he can't quite control.

Toji leans against the nearest wall, running a hand through his hair. "Damn," he mutters to himself, cursing his body's betrayal. He's not used to feeling this flustered, especially not over something as simple as a goodbye kiss.

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. It's not easy, with your lingering presence still fresh in his mind. Toji closes his eyes, willing his body to cooperate. After a few moments, he manages to calm down, the tension easing from his muscles.

"Alright, Fushiguro," he says to himself, straightening up. "Get it together."

With a newfound resolve, Toji pushes himself away from the wall and heads off to face whatever challenges await him. But as he walks, he can't shake the memory of your lips against his, and the way you always manage to leave him wanting more.

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

xi. eleven: every word you say

the sunlight did not reach her face. there was no sunlight in sight at all, aside from the most external door that shows a little hint of the visible spectrum. she stirred awake on the hard floor she slept, if she had any at all. she slowly sat up, finding the colonel on the adjacent cell, staring into nothingness.

they have yet to acknowledge each other's presence, trapped in their own battles inside. it was a surreal thing—to feel that it was both the end and the beginning. they have long let go of any hopes in receiving a lighter sentence, and that act is what made it possible for them to breathe despite the stifling feeling.

they have found freedom. losing all hope was freedom.

hence, the young silva raised her gaze to the ragged man across. his rank is not apparent on his current state, stripped off of dignity and proper legacy. she pulled him to the deepest ocean floor a man has never explored to.

"i am so sorry, raphael." raine broke the silence, feeling utterly apologetic for bringing the man with her in this fate.

"there is no need." he replied, closing his eyes as he leaned on the wall.

there really was no need. although his tone may have sounded frustrated, it was not directed to the girl. coming to think of it, he believes he would have done the same. he actually did, when he admitted to the suspicions just so she could be saved. the young silva, however, was hardheaded. a small chuckle left his lips as he looked at her in thought.

"you know, your father would be proud."

"oh, silence." raine rolled her eyes in jest, "i have not slept well with how much my eyes poured last night. do not make me cry again."

"but it is true."

"i know," she turned to him with weak eyes, "he asked me one time, if he was being too forceful in making me the viscountess or also the fact that he taught me things that a proper lady would not have preferred."

she laughed at the memory of her father teaching her how to hold a dagger at four, and her mother in utter worry as she caught them both.

"he was afraid he turned me into something he wanted instead of being someone I want to be."

the lady chuckled before continuing, "i told him I do not see myself embroidering at all. he laughed like crazy."

raphael weakly laughed at the story. by the mention of the girl's teaching experiences, a memory resurfaced in his mind as well.

"did you know that your father used to say you shoot like—i apologise for the term we use in the military amongst men—a virgin?"

despite being above average compared to the general public, her shooting really did not pass her father's standards. she could shoot, yes, but it would not have been enough for war. armand concluded that it was enough at the very least for self-defense.

raphael lifted one end of his lips, "i bet he would say otherwise now."

"that is because now i am not." she said with indifference, missing the way the man sat up from his leaning, turning to her fully.

"...wait, what—you mean...?" he asked curiously, his will returning to his voice in spite of their current situation.

raine looked at him and she found it interesting how curious he was at the topic. she let out a short giggle before slowly nodding. his mouth noticeably went ajar at that as he pried more.

"the bridgerton son?" she nodded once again, raphael leaning back down in surprise, shaking his head in disbelief, "your father is going to kill you."

"no need. the crown is doing it for him."

both laughed in chorus—how they could still jest in a situation like this is lost. perhaps, it was there saving grace. little joys do really count.

"i cannot fathom what you could possibly find so amusing in a place like this."

the queen's voice announced her arrival, her face grimacing in disgust at the place. the two greeted her with respect, standing from their position. she looked around, as if assessing their surroundings before settling her eyes to the girl.

her majesty sighed resignedly, "why ever did you have to shoot him?"

"he talked too much."

"that he did." she had no problem agreeing with that statement at all. the lord had been bothering her as well before about royal familial matters.

she clasped her hands, forming the words to say, "i have spoken to have a private execution for you both. it was granted. this is the least i could do, considering everyone has voted for a beheading instead of hanging."

raine nodded thankfully at that. she did not care much. either way, they would be dead. she inquired further, "the soldiers?"

"all free from the charges."

the two released a breath of relief. that was one of their main goals—for the rest of the troop to be able to go home and spend the following years with their families.

"thank you, aunt lottie. that is all i ask." she smiled warmly to the older woman.

"it will be in an hour." the queen noted, pertaining to the execution.

it must already be five in the afternoon already. the young silva did not know how time flew by so fast. she neared the girl, pushing a hand through the bars of her cell. raine held her hand as she continued.

"make death proud to take us."

raphael and raine's ears perked at that, their brows crossing as the queen took back her hand slowly, "how do you know of it?"

charlotte offered them a smile before she turned away, "your father had been a good company."

after the queen, major gilbert and the viscount bridgerton also stopped to visit them. the former relayed the gratefulness of the soldiers by the news of their freedom, while the latter updated her on how the queen is working on for a proper investigation against the said involved people in the treason with the help of the papers that was left to him. they did not take long, of course. the prison had that effect. it was very suffocating.

yet, her breath came back at the sight of the man in front of her.

"what are you doing here?" she said in concern, her lips quivering as she scrambled on her feet.

benedict reached to her, cupping her face with a tearful smile, "i told you. i will always be here."

she shut her eyes in shame of her current state, "you should not see me like this."

he chuckled with tears in his eyes, "like painfully beautiful?"

"like dying." she corrected in all honesty as he went silent, his heavy breathing speaking for himself.

his lips formed a thin line, features traced with painstaking gaze, "you are so unfair."

"i know," she admitted, knowing exactly what he meant, "i am so sorry."

he hushed her, his palms still on her cheeks as he soothed—both tracing the tear marks that intensified their emotions.

"forget about me. let go of this grief completely." she bleakly uttered, torment clear on her voice.

benedict immediately responded a multiple series of 'no' with an intense shaking of his head in disagreement. he would do anything to not forget her, both the joy and painful memories. he would cherish everything that she was present in. he would cling onto every word she utters.

"and in case you do forget about me," she continued, cupping his face with the utmost care, "i hope you remember by my touch alone.

he nodded fervently, "i love you."

he leaned his head to hers, their breaths exchanging as if he was used to the taste of pain on a dead friday night.

"i love you too."

they wanted to be together for as long as they could, and if that's not very long, well, then that's just how it is. and so, they held each other for the last time, coming to terms that if this life will be this cruel, he would spend the rest of his life praying that the next will not be.

he wanted to badly stay with her, to stop the time and prolong this moment. but, it seemed like he had angered the gods as a guard knocked his truncheon on the door, calling for him to exit for the fifteen-minute preparation before the execution.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

no later, guards entered the cells, taking both prisoners with no austerity in their touch. it was so strange for them to the point that it was hard to swallow. they have seized and lead criminals of darkest crimes to their end, yet they find themselves wanting to break the two out.

a viscountess and a colonel, both still children in their own way.

they have never thought there comes a day they would dread their work, and the executioner would say the same. because just as they all arrived in the execution stage, the forty-five soldiers, four members of the bridgerton family, and the queen are in attendance. as she caught sight of them, raine offered a brief, forlorn smile. these people are the ones who she is most thankful of.

executions happen at a faster pace than the young silva thought. one moment they were walking, the next they were kneeling. the executioner bowed to the both of them when they arrived, now asking for forgiveness on the duty he must do in a while. loraine granted him that.

he stood back up, announcing clearly, "you have been granted to speak your final words."

she turned to take a look at raphael, the latter nodding as a sign for her to speak for them both. raine casted her head down in thinking of the words she must say for the last time. she looked back at them all, to no one in particular, and dared to raise her eyes to her terrible fate as she began.

"when a crime goes unpunished, the world is unbalanced. when the wrong is unavenged, the heavens look down on us in shame. we too must die for this circle of vengeance to be closed. we will leave this record of our courage so the world will know who we were and what we did."

as she ended, they both tied the cloth firmly to cover their eyes. at the absence of sight, fear started to creep in. she could hear the executioner stepping away from her and to the colonel first. he declared with resolve, a means of comforting the two souls.

"death is proud to take you."

raine exhaled peacefully at that. it was a reply to their previous convictions—a way of reassuring they have done well.

and so, she did not panic, even when the sound of a drop on the floor filled the place.

raphael had been a great friend, soldier, and a person. the silva would not mind having to fight beside him once again.

the room stayed silent, with no other noise but the small whimpers of the audience. however, it was immediately overshadowed by the sound of footsteps, nearing her one step at a time. she guessed this must be it.

loraine's mind became blank. she hurried herself to think of memories—those that she would love to relive. she had a strange belief that it would not be as painful if she was feeling happy. but, it was also strangely hard to be one in the moment. all she could think of was that maybe, dying is the best option for her in this life. there was no home for her anymore.

and when she greets death, she hoped it is gentle. she hoped it is like going home. she believed a great happiness awaited her somewhere.

and for this reason, she remained calm as the axe hit her neck.

the audience found themselves letting go of the prolonged silence, breaking out to their cries. however, one person did not have any tear or voice left in himself anymore as he stared at the trail of blood that was starting to accumulate and flow away from the body.

indeed, a lot can happen in a day.

he was annoyed by her in one, taken by her in one, and loved her in one. he is grieving for her in one, and he will long for her in one.

and so, he was left with nothing but to face reality—realising that a very frightening thought is now shadowing him intimately.

when tomorrow depends to a person, what should one do? when that person is lost, does that mean tomorrow is too?

love was there. it may have not changed anything. it may have not saved anyone. but, it still matters that the love was there.

because, raine did not need to be saved. she needed to be found and appreciated for who exactly she was. her father has taught her that this world was only a preparation for the next, that all they can ask is to leave it having loved and being loved.

and benedict, until the very last moment, made that known to her and everyone else. she was found. she was appreciated. she was loved.

all by him.

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr @peetahpahkah @myo11 @idek-what-to-put @aysamuka

[brainoutofstock]

Note: Hopping on the “Adler is Graves’ dad” train.

“Why don’t you keep in touch with your dad?”

Phillip gave you a look as if you had just announced you murdered someone. Only once did the identity of his father arise in a conversation in the three years you had been dating, and even that happened when he told about his mother to your parents at a family gathering and they asked him about his father. With his usual Southern charm he was able to dodge the question, saying his father was always career-driven and spent most of his time far from his family, so he barely knew him. That was all.

His knuckles whitened from the force he gripped the steering wheel with. You were sitting in a rented Land Rover, heading to a ski resort in Austria to spend almost a week there, and there was no escape from your question. He knew he would have to answer if he wanted to avoid a fight that would ruin your trip, and he had promised to be honest with you, which left him no choice but to tell you the truth about his father.

So he let out a long sigh and began to talk, forcing himself to focus on the snowy road ahead instead of that worried look on your face. Because he knew that’s what he would see, he knew you were aware there was an issue that caused the rift between the two of them. “My dad’s a difficult person. He’s been working for the CIA for a long time, I guess he lost touch with reality along the way. He lives in a different world than most of us and I assume he can’t really enjoy things like being in the company of his family anymore.”

You knew Phillip. Under the tough, confident, and cocky exterior he was truly caring and gentle. Well, at least with you and those he truly cared about. Family had always been important to him, imagining he was having such a complicated relationship with his dad made you sad. “Have you tried to talk to him about it?”

Your fiancé snorted at that. “Yeah, right, that would solve things, wouldn’t it? But I know him, I don’t wanna waste my time trying to get him to be honest with me. I just play nice, give him a call on holidays, visit him once or twice a year, and that’s it. To be fair, he’s not exactly happy with me. He would be prouder if I stayed in the Marines and kept serving my country.”

Nodding, you turned to look out the window on the side. “Was he a good father?” you asked quietly, although you could already guess the answer.

“When he was around, he… wasn’t that bad,” he replied hesitantly, making you surprised for the first time since the beginning of this conversation. “When I was younger, he taught me how to shoot, how to protect myself, then while I was in the military, we shared stories over a beer whenever we met. But once I realized I wanted to do something different, he became distant.”

You reached out to take his hand, squeezing it lightly with a supportive smile on your lips. “At least your mom’s nice,” you tried.

“Yeah, she is,” he agreed. “I have no idea why she stayed with him, but at least she’s happy.”

“Unlike him, you’re gonna be a great dad, I hope you know that. And a grandkid might bring him closer to you.”

He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering why you brought this up. You’d been trying for a baby for over a year now without success, then decided to keep a short break two months ago so you wouldn’t be that stressed about this. You two agreed not to bring it up for the next six months. But then his eyes narrowed as he had a growing suspicion.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

With a short laugh, you flashed a happy smile at him. “Six weeks in.”

[adumbwriter]

MATADOR -4-

𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝟷 | 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝟸 | 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝟹 | 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝟻

Vox roared, sweeping everything off the table, cups, and plates shattering all over the ground in pieces. “It’s been weeks! And no one has seen her?!”

His assistants flinched in the presence of the raging overlord, praying they wouldn’t be the next thing he broke.

“I’m sorry sir, we’ve tried everything, whenever we’ve managed to track her all the electronics, the cameras, they freak out! It’s like something is interfering on purpose.” 

He growled as he sat back down, hunching over the table with his claws digging into the wooden surface. He glared down at the last photo managed to be taken of you through CCTV cameras. You were crossing the street dressed up for a night out and behind you lurked a shadow with a menacing grin, making direct eye contact with the camera.

“Alastor.” 

You laughed as Alastor recounted his most recent escapades at the hotel, detailing literal loan sharks and a meeting with Lucifer himself. You always felt so enthralled in his stories. He had such a charismatic personality it was hard not to be deeply invested in anything he said. 

“But enough about me, how have you been my dear?”

“Really good actually.” You said, smiling ear to ear. Something you found came very easily in his presence. When you first came crawling to him you had been miserable for so long. But since then, you’ve felt happier than you can ever remember being.

“Oh? Pray tell what’s got you in such a good mood.” He said, leaning forward on the dining table.

“Well it’s a bit of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”

“Nonsense! I’m all ears.”

You looked down, playing with your sleeves. “Well…I don’t remember much from my time on Earth. Anything, really. I get flashes here and there but never anything I can understand."

"How interesting. What do you remember?" He asked, his face ticking curiously, an unknown emotion swimming behind his plastered grin.

"Random things. Mostly memories with my Dad and a garden, I think it was mine." Alastor nodded, tapping his claws against the wooden table, seemingly in contemplation. “But when I went to sleep after our night together, I had a memory. A real memory. It was like I was living it again. I mean it was still blurry in some places like I can’t remember that man's name for the life of me–”

“Man?” He asked, sitting a little straighter.

“Yeah, this stranger that came up to me at my fathers funeral. We had drinks at a cafe together.”

“What can you remember about him?”

His sudden curiosity in the man from your memory raised a certain suspicion in you but you chalked it up to him simply wanting to help.

“Well he was good-looking, he had these golden eyes and soft brown hair. He said he worked with my father. And he said this thing about…” As you were about to mention the conversation surrounding the man's smile you looked up at Alastor, staring at his toothy grin. The image of the man from your memory flashed before you in Alastor’s place. A stab of pain shot through your skull again. You flinched backward, squeezing your eyes shut.

He can’t be…

“Y/n–” He placed a hand over your own and the pain increased. Your brain filled with a fog of white noise so loud that whatever he said next was completely drowned out. Shapes swam behind the backs of your eyelids, spinning until you found yourself somewhere new.

The smell of cigars filled the speakeasy and upbeat jazz and swing played from the stage. You sat at the bar reading today's newspaper. 

NEW ORLEANS RIPPER:

THREE NEW BODIES DISCOVERED

“Here you are, Cher.” A꙰l꙰a꙰s꙰t꙰o꙰r꙰ appeared, sliding you a martini. You put the paper down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Thanks, A꙰l꙰.”

He slid an arm around your waist, pulling you to his side.

“What’s this?” He asked, staring down at the paper.

“They discovered more victims of that serial killer.” You said shoving the paper towards him. “I’m worried about you, they found these people near your work.” 

“You don’t need to worry darling, I can defend myself.”

“I’m sure they thought the same, just…be safe?”

His face softened and he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss.

“I promise.”

A glimmer of mischief flashed behind his eyes and he grabbed your glass from your hands sitting it down on the bar, causing you to squint up at him. He slid his arms from your waist to your hands, pulling you towards the dancefloor. Your eyes widened in realization and you began shaking your head.

“No, no–”

“Dance with me.” He said as he pulled you onto the floor, immediately spinning you around and then pulling you back to him. You rested your hands against his chest, looking up at him with wide-eyed embarrassment. 

“A꙰l꙰, you know I can’t dance!” You laughed. He gazed at you with pure adoration as he rocked you back and forth to the music. 

“Of course, you can.” He said as he spun you again, bringing you to hook an arm around his neck before he dipped you low. “See?” He brought you back up, holding you between his arms as if you were his entire world. “Anyone can dance, you just haven’t had the right teacher.”

Your heart swelled so full of love for the man before you. So much so that you began to feel emotional. To think that a year ago you were sitting in an old cafe meeting over tea and coffee and now you wore his mother's wedding ring. He had come barreling into your life at your lowest moment and filled a hole in your soul. 

“I love you Alastor.” You whispered.

“And I love you, Cher.”

You blinked and you came back to reality, sitting in the swamp of Alastors hotel room. His hand tightened over yours as your breaths became short and panicked. Tears pricked your eyes, your heart pounding. Everything suddenly felt so overwhelming. A new fact of your life before this now loomed over you, but you couldn’t accept it. It didn’t feel real. Your world came crashing down on you. You looked at his hand that covered your own, eyeing the golden band that wrapped around his ring finger. Dreadful confirmation of the vision you had just seen. You jumped back, snatching your hand away as if he had burnt you. His face flashed with hurt as his smile strained uncomfortably. 

“Cher–” He reached out to you again and you flinched backward.

“Don’t touch me!” You cried, tears now streaming down your cheeks as you hugged yourself tight.

“I know you must be confused–”

“You knew! You knew who I was this entire time!” You hit his chest, sobs wracking your body.

“My love please–”

“No! You knew and you didn’t say anything! You left me with that fucker!” You screamed as you hit his chest over and over again. He let you release your frustration and when you were tired of your anger you sunk into heartbreak, gripping the lapels of his suit. He cautiously brought a hand up to stroke your hair as you cried into him.  

“Do you have any idea how miserable I’ve been all these years? And you never said a thing.”

“Would you have believed me?” He asked.

You fell silent.

No. You thought.

I wouldn’t have.

“You have no clue how badly I wanted to tell you. To steal you away from him and live how we used to. My beautiful girl.” A harsh sob shook you and he held you ever tighter, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. “No death could compare to the pain of having to see you with that wretched man.”

All this time you had a husband. Someone who actually loved you. All the while you've been spending your afterlife trapped in a glorified tower, settling for a man who treated you like dirt. Every day you spent alone, every hour you tried to pretend you were happy, every minute you spent trying so hard to make a prison a home, you could have been with your true partner. And realising that now hurt. It hurt so bad your chest felt like it was caving in. How much time have you wasted in misery when you could have been in the arms of someone who truly loved you.

You sniffled and took a step back, his arms falling away. 

“I have to think.” You wiped your tears, taking a deep breath, looking anywhere but at him. “I have to be alone.”

You grabbed your coat that hung on the back of your chair and turned away, walking towards the door. 

Alastor wanted to reach out to you, to pull you back again. He wanted to talk and fix things. He had spent so many years without you, watching you be with somebody else, knowing he could only wait until you somehow remembered. And now you were finally back and you finally knew who he was again. Who you were. His darling wife, his whole existence. But he knew you needed time. No matter how much his cold dead heart ached to be in your presence, to be loved by you again. So he watched you leave and for the first time since your death, Alastor cried. 

You walked down the busy street on the way back home, heels clicking against wet pavement. You wrapped your coat tight around yourself to deflect the cold of the pouring rain and shot Blitzø a text asking when he can get back from work. He replied in barely legible spelling that he could be back in a couple hours. As you turned the corner your phone screen began to glitch.

"Stupid rain." You sighed in annoyance banging it against your palm in a futile attempt to stop it. The screen flashed with a familiar logo, and a large zap of electricity shot out, completely frying the device. You yelped, covering your face against the blinding neon light. When it dissipated you slowly lowered your arms, looking up to find someone you never wanted to face again.

"Hello dear."

[cyren-myadd]

I wonder if the treatment of Sully's kids and Spider will be different during captivity. I can just see Quaritch trying to make Spider as comfortable as possible, trying to feed him the "homemade" food from the previous post while Lo'ak and Kiri are in the most uncomfortable position on the ground and getting some leftovers or nothing at all 💀

Spider squirmed uncomfortably against the thick rope binding his wrists together— and then immediately felt guilty for it. Across from him, Kiri and Lo'ak were bound with their wrists and ankles twisted awkwardly behind their backs, sharp rocks digging into their knees. Tight gags bound their mouths shut, so their communication was limited to terrified looks whenever they made eye contact. Half-dried blood oozed from cuts they’d gotten during their capture. Spider didn't have a right to complain about his wrists, not when his friends were hogtied like yerik carcasses ready for the cookfire. He wasn't even sitting on the rocky ground; a soft, woven mat beneath his knees protected him from the cold floor of the cave they were kept in. A part of Spider wondered why their captors would treat a full-blooded demon more gently than two half-breeds, but that question was ignored in favor of trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

Around them, strange Na'vi with pale blue skin and black war paint moved around the cave, preparing weapons and other supplies. If Spider had to guess, he'd say this was a war party from an unknown tribe, but unfortunately, he didn't have enough information to guess what they were doing so close to home, and more importantly, why. Normally, the sight of a Na'vi war party, even an unknown one, would've been good news, but the fact that these people had kidnapped him and his friends gave him the sneaking suspicion that these warriors weren't here to help Jake fight the RDA. Even more worryingly, Spider spotted human-made guns and grenades amongst the supplies the warriors were moving around, meaning someone had taught these people how to use Sky People weapons.

The sound of voices made the three of them look up. On the opposite side of the cave, two new Na'vi entered the war camp, and the way the other warriors gathered around to greet them respectfully told Spider they must be important. One was a female Na'vi with the same pale blue skin as the others. Even from across the cave, Spider could make out the ornate red headdress and intricate paint patterns she wore, marking her as high status; a tsahik or olo'eykte. Her companion was dressed in much plainer clothing by comparison; the same loincloth and simple paint design all the others wore. However, no amount of unfamiliar paint and regalia could hide the familiar blue stripes of a forest Na'vi. Spider exchanged a confused look with Kiri and Lo'ak. What was a forest Na'vi doing with these strange warriors?

The female leader addressed her warriors calmly while the forest Na'vi stood rigidly at her side, his tail lashing in clear agitation. Then, one of the warriors pointed towards the spot where Spider and his friends were tied up. Before the warrior even finished raising his hand, the forest Na'vi made a beeline right towards them.

Spider hissed through his teeth. There was something eerily familiar about the way the Na'vi stormed in a straight line towards his destination without caring if he got in the way of others. Slowly, Spider shook his head. The human weapons, taking Kiri and Lo'ak hostage while treating Spider with kid gloves... In his gut, he already knew who it was, but his mind wasn't ready to accept the ugly truth yet.

"Spider!" It wasn't until the Na'vi— no, the recom, yelled his name that he was forced to face the truth. There was no mistaking that low drawl.

"Quaritch," he didn't whisper it so much as soundlessly mouth it when the man skidded to a stop in front of them. The confrontation he'd been dreading for months was finally here, and he had no one to blame but himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see matching expressions of horror on Kiri and Lo’ak’s faces. The monster from their nightmares was standing right in front of them, and they had no idea it was Spider’s fault. Lo’ak tried to say something, but it was muffled through his gag. He strained against his bonds, tail lashing furiously, and Kiri pressed her shoulder against him in a weak attempt to soothe him. Thankfully, Quaritch ignored them, and instead knelt before Spider.

Spider tried to shrink away from him, but there was nowhere to go. Quaritch took him by the shoulders and gently turned him this way and that, eyes and fingers roving over his body and his exopack for any sign of damage.

"You good, kid?" He asked, lightly tugging Spider's arm so he could get a better look at a nasty scratch he'd acquired when the strange warriors had abducted them. Once Quaritch determined the scratch wasn't life threatening, his ears sagged in relief and he clapped Spider on the shoulders.

"Yeah, you're good, you're good," he answered his own question in a low mutter, more to himself than to Spider. A low, relieved chuckle escaped his lips, and then he smiled. Spider could count on one hand how many times he'd seen Quaritch smile, and most of the time it was more of a cruel grimace than a smile. This look was different— it was genuine. He smiled down at Spider like this was the best day of his life. No one other than Kiri had ever looked at him like that, and it made him want to burst into tears and attack him and bury his head in his chest all at once. Instead, Spider did nothing but return his look with a baleful stare.

Quaritch tentatively reached out like he was going to cup Spider's face in his hand, but Spider bared his teeth and jerked his head away. To his relief, Quaritch let him go. His smile turned slightly sad, but also unsurprised at the aggressive reaction.

"Ma Kwarit." Spider looked up as the leader of the warriors approached them. It took him a moment to realize "Kwarit" was her attempt at pronouncing Quaritch's alien name. The woman stared down at him with an unreadable look on her face. Her eyes were somehow both hot and cold; bright orange-gold like a fire, but there was no warmth behind them. Spider glared back at her with the fiercest look he could muster, and clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.

"Varang, I apology for running." Quaritch greeted her in broken Na'vi.

The woman, Varang, waved away his apology dismissively. "These children, they are the ones you sent my warriors to look for?"

"Yes. My son," Quaritch patted Spider on the shoulder with one hand before gesturing at Lo'ak and Kiri with the other, "and children Toruk Makto. Your warriors is good."

"They are the best," Varang agreed. She didn't sound boastful when she said it, as if she were simply stating an immutable fact. Her fiery cold eyes roamed over Lo'ak and Kiri, taking in their half-breed features, before coming to a stop on Spider. It was a challenge to hold her gaze without flinching, but he did his best to meet her eyes with a steady glare.

After a long moment of analyzing Spider's face, she said, "I do not see you in the face of your son, but I see your fire in his eyes."

To Spider’s mortification, Quaritch chuckled at that and ruffled his hair. “Yes, he gets from me.”

Spider hissed at him and jerked away as hard as he could. He ended up accidentally scraping his injured arm against the rock wall and his angry hiss turned into a grunt of pain.

“And when he becomes angry, he is so determined to get his way that he will hurt himself in doing so. That is something else he has in common with you,” Varang observed, the barest hint of a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

This time, when Quaritch laughed it was slightly more forced. “He need medicine. Call healer. And food.”

“My healers have never helped a Sky Person before. They could harm him as easily as heal him. The same can be said of our food.”

“Son is smart. He know what help and what hurt Sky People. He know what to eat.”

“Wait—” Spider interrupted, and he found himself pinned under Varang’s intense hot-cold gaze once more and it almost made him lose his nerve. “I see you, Varang.” He greeted her as best he could with his hands tied. “My friends also need food and medicine. Please.”

Varang’s hairless brow raised a fraction of a centimeter. “He speaks better than you do, ma Kwarit.”

“That’s because I taught him to speak. And I can tell he hasn’t been practicing.” Spider added.

Varang exhaled heavily through her nose, which was probably the closest thing to a laugh he’d get from her. That was a good sign. Something Spider had learned during his captivity was that it was always better to get on the good side of those who had power over you. It had worked with Quaritch— maybe a little bit too well considering how things turned out.

“Please?” Spider asked Varang again hopefully.

Varang turned to Quaritch, and to his dismay, he realized she was leaving the decision up to him. 

Quaritch eyed Lo’ak and Kiri’s many scratches and bruises apathetically before he shrugged. “They look fine to me.”

Varang nodded to one of her warriors. “Bring a bowl of food and a healer for the Sky Child. Leave the other two alone.”

“No!” Spider protested, but Varang was already walking away, taking her entourage of warriors with her. Lo’ak caught his eye and shrugged weakly as if to say, well, at least you tried.

“Dammit,” Spider curled in on himself and kept his eyes trained on his bound hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Kiri and Lo’ak. Silently, he prayed Quaritch would leave with the others, but unfortunately, his prayers went unanswered. Quaritch stayed right where he was. Mercifully, he didn’t try to touch him again, but he kept taking deep breaths like he was about to start speaking but always stopped himself.

“What?” Spider snapped after what felt like the hundredth aborted attempt at speaking.

Quaritch’s ears flicked back in surprise at the sudden word. “I was just— Spider, listen— I want to— we need to have—“ he interrupted his own stammering with a frustrated hiss and ran his hands through his hair. “Jesus, I sound like an idiot.”

Spider exchanged a bewildered glance with Kiri and Lo’ak. None of them, not even Spider, had ever seen Quaritch look nervous before. It wasn’t an emotion they thought he was capable of. Spider looked up at Quaritch warily, wondering what the hell he was trying to say. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Quaritch was trying to apologize to him.

After an unbearably awkward silence, Quaritch reached into a small pouch attached to his belt and pulled out a spartan fruit. He passed it to Spider while avoiding eye contact, almost shyly. “Here.”

Spider stared down at the fruit in his lap, confused. Spartan fruit didn’t grow in this part of the forest, and judging by the fruit’s slightly battered appearance, Quaritch must’ve been carrying it around with him for a while. Slowly, Spider raised his gaze from the spartan fruit to squint up at Quaritch.

“It’s a spartan fruit.” Quaritch told him, as if Spider wasn’t the one who had taught him that. “You told me it was your favorite.”

Spider said nothing.

The longer he remained silent, the more fidgety Quaritch got. His tail swished behind him and he struggled to meet Spider’s eyes for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I just— I just thought you might want it.” Quaritch scratched at the back of neck while avoiding eye contact again.

They lapsed into another silence that was so awkward it was almost painful. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lo’ak scrunch up his face at him as if to say, what the hell is happening? All Spider could do was shrug.

Finally, Spider cleared his throat, moreso to interrupt the horrible silence than because he wanted to say anything. “Um… thank you.”

Reluctantly, he took the fruit, telegraphing his movements so Quaritch could see what he was doing. When he saw Spider had accepted his gift, he smiled another genuine, not-evil smile.

With his fruit in hand, Spider slowly got to a crouch and started shuffling away from him. Quaritch frowned. He let Spider move away without a fight, but kept a narrowed eye on him, ready to grab him if he looked like he was going to bolt— not that there was anywhere to bolt to in this cavern full of enemies.

Spider made a big show of moving slowly so Quaritch wouldn’t get any bad ideas about his intentions, and came to a stop next to Lo’ak. Then, before Quaritch could realize what he was doing, he pulled down Lo’ak’s gag and raised the fruit to his lips. Lo’ak started scarfing it down like it was his last meal.

“Dammit, Spider, that was supposed to be for you!” Quaritch seized the strap of Spider’s exopack and hauled him back before Lo’ak could take another bite.

“I don’t want your damn fruit, I want to make sure my friends are okay!” Spider snapped.

Quaritch yanked the half-eaten fruit out of his hands. “Your little friends will be just fine without food for a day or two. As long as their daddy cooperates, they’ll be back home before they know it.”

“My dad’s gonna kill your ass again!” Lo’ak yelled now that his gag was off. He strained against his bonds like he wanted to throw himself at Quaritch.

“Shut up.” Quaritch said irritably.

“Fuck you!”

Quaritch brandished his knife threateningly at Lo’ak. “You keep your mouth shut or I’ll make that hand look like a real Na’vi, boy!”

Despite the threat, Lo’ak looked like he wanted to snap back at Quaritch anyway. Kiri tried to say something through her gag and pressed herself against Lo’ak’s side. Behind Quaritch’s arm, Spider desperately shook his head, praying Lo’ak would listen to reason. Thankfully, he did, though he let out one last angry hiss before settling back next to Kiri in defeat.

His surrender sent an ugly smirk shooting over Quaritch’s face. “Well, would you look at that. A Sully can learn to follow orders. Ha!”

Quaritch’s mean-spirited laugh was interrupted by the arrival of a young woman carrying a medicine bag in one hand and a bowl filled with different kinds of food in the other. Clearly, whoever made the bowl had no idea what was safe for humans, so they’d compensated by putting in a little bit of everything.

“Here we are! You, girl, heal up now please my son.” Quaritch ordered in Na’vi so bad that even Spider had trouble deciphering it.

The poor healer stared at Quaritch in confusion. “I do not understand your speaking.”

“He told you to treat their wounds first, then me.” Spider “translated,” nodding urgently at Kiri and Lo’ak.

The healer turned towards Kiri with her bag at the ready only for Quaritch to grab her by the hand and pull her back.

“No, no, no. Not them. Him. Him only. Do not listen what he say. He lie.” Quaritch said very slowly.

The healer still looked confused, but she opened her bag and knelt next to Spider. She hissed softly through her teeth as she examined the nasty cut on his arm. “I do not know what to do. His flesh is not of Eywa. I am afraid I may hurt him.”

“Listen him. He will say you what safe use.”

“You want me to listen to him?” The woman’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But you just told me not to. You said he lies.”

“Listen to him!” Quaritch repeated. He banged his hand against the floor in frustration, making the poor healer squeak in surprise. “Go on, Spider, tell her what to use.”

“Hmm…” Spider made a big show of peering into her bag. His sharp eyes instantly identified which plants were safe and unsafe for him to use, but he feigned confusion with a shrug. “Huh, that’s funny. I can’t seem to remember what’s safe for me. Oh well…”

“Spider…” Quaritch bared his teeth in a wolfish smile— now this was the smile Spider was used to seeing from Quaritch, the same one he had whenever he got a lead on Jake or threatened an RDA grunt into submission. “Tell the nice lady what to use on you. Now.”

The borderline demonic smile sent a chill through Spider, but he held his ground. Remembering how pathetic Quaritch sounded when he asked Neytiri to let him go gave him strength. As much as Quaritch liked to threaten him with “old school ass whippings” Spider was confident Quaritch wouldn’t actually hurt him— at least, not physically.

Spider bared his teeth in a smaller, less-pointy version of Quaritch’s evil smile. “Maybe if she helps my friends first, it’ll jog my memory.”

An ugly, forced chuckle escaped Quaritch’s teeth. “Oh, so that’s how you want to play it, huh? Fine! Nobody gets medical attention now.”

Spider forced his expression to stay calm. He folded his arms behind his head and laid back against the damp stone. “That’s fine with me. I guess I’ll just lay here in this cold, dark cave with my open cuts. Sure would be a shame if I got an infection. Did I ever tell you that humans are way more likely to die from infections than Na’vi? Our bodies just don’t fight off bacteria the same way.”

Quaritch stared him down, teeth bared and tail swishing. For a moment, Spider thought he was really going to risk it just to spite Jake’s children, but then the moment passed and Quaritch snarled in frustration. “When did you get so manipulative? Has Sully been teaching you this shit? Fine. You, girl, heal children Toruk Makto first. Then my son.”

Spider smirked as he watched the exasperated healer finally get to work on Kiri and Lo’ak’s injuries. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

With an irritated grumble, Quaritch got to his feet and fidgeted with his loincloth. Clearly, he wasn’t used to wearing it yet. “Alright, I gotta leave you alone now, but don’t go getting any big ideas, ‘cause I’ll be back soon. If your ass has moved an inch from this spot when I get back, you won’t need that paint to look blue anymore, you read me?”

“Lima charlie, sir.” Spider replied with as much sarcasm as he dared.

Quaritch narrowed his eyes at the disrespectful tone, but must’ve decided it wasn’t worth it to say anything. He turned to leave, but hesitated, his back to Spider.

“Spider… son… when I get back, we’re gonna have a talk, alright? We just— we need to talk.” He said without looking at Spider.

“Okay,” Spider said, more to get rid of Quaritch than anything.

Quaritch hesitated a moment longer like he wanted to say something, but instead he left without saying another word. As soon as he was out of sight, Spider scooped up the bowl of food and scrambled over to his friends. He yanked off Kiri’s gag and started feeding her and Lo’ak while the healer patched them up.

“Are you guys okay?” Spider asked.

“We’re fucking fantastic, bro.” Lo’ak answered, and Spider instantly felt stupid for asking such a question.

“We’ll live,” Kiri replied before turning to the healer and switching to Na’vi. “You should mix yalna bark with the fireflower root— it will stop the bleeding faster and clean the wound better.”

The healer’s eyes widened as she realized the wisdom to Kiri’s words and did as she instructed.

“I can’t believe Quaritch is going after Dad again. That asshole just doesn’t quit!” Lo’ak said frustratedly.

“I know.” Kiri agreed. “And he was acting so strange… Spider, what do you think he wants to talk to you about?”

Spider shifted uncomfortably as Lo’ak and Kiri watched him. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, cause we’re not sticking around to find out. C’mon, this lady doesn’t understand English. Let’s come up with a plan to get out of here.”

💙I hope you enjoyed! Please comment or reblog to let me know what you think, or send me a writing prompt if you want to see more💙

[midnightmah07]

Voice claim: Maki - Jujutsu Kaisen

Background & personality:

Jeanne Hook is a cunning girl who was raised in a tough environment. Her mother ran away after her younger sister, Millie, was born, and her father only saw use in Jeanne because of her cleverness and physical capabilities. She, as everyone in her biological family, is a pirate, and because she is the eldest her father started training her and teaching her the ways of pirating ever since a young age, seeing her for what she could bring to his crew and not for who she was. He is a cold man who does not care about his children unless it is for the betterment of his crew, and often neglects Millie, forcing Jeanne to take on the role of a parent by a young age.

Jeanne lives mostly on her father's pirate ship, but she was born and has a house in Briar Valley, her hometown. There, she met a young half fae – Piper (a new name I chose for Pierre) – that was always eager to play with her, and who often irritated Jeanne because of his overly childish manner, as well as his selfishness and arrogance. One day, Piper went a little too far on his teasing of her and Millie, and accidentally made Millie fall into a lake with crocodiles; Jeanne was forced to jump and save her little sister, making her lose her left hand in the process. – all of this, added to the fact that Piper has everything that Jeanne has ever wanted to have (a loving family, a normal childhood, and the approval of Jeanne's father) make her have an extreme hatred towards him, often calling him a 'brat' and insulting him to his face, which never seems to make Piper irritated or discouraged to speak to her.

At NRC, Jeanne is finally free from the burden of being 'daddy's perfect girl' and 'the responsible older sister', and often acts more childishly and teasingly with her dorm and schoolmates, making her completely different from the calm and collected girl from back home.

She's able to pick up on things really fast, making her a fast learner, and a great athlete for the Spelldrive team.

Fun facts: Jeanne wears a lot of masculine clothes and is very tomboyish, because of this, and because of her more masculine features, she is often perceived as a male, and gets annoyed when people refer to her as one; she loves shiny and expensive things, and is always wearing jewelry everywhere; her pirate crew tell others that they're fishermen and/or sailors in order to not draw suspicion to them, and Jeanne herself is never open about what she or her father do... However she is super fond of pirates and is not ashamed to say so

Basic info:

Height: 178cm

Age: 17 years old

Grade: sophomore (2nd grade)

Nicknames: codfishie/codfish (by Floyd and Piper – Floyd switches between calling her by her nickname and her name), mademoiselle pirate (by Rook), buttercup (by Perse)

Birthday: [to be added]

Dominant hand: right – she used to be left handed but had to learn how to use her right hand once she lost her left one

Homeland: Briar Valley

Favorite food: salmon

Best subject: flight

Hobbies: swordsmanship

Club: Spelldrive club

Unique Magic: Neverland - Jeanne can stop time for up to 10 seconds, anything more than that and she immediately passes out or is injured in some way

Character relationships:

Kalim Al-Asim: her and Kalim met at the cafeteria: he had gotten into trouble with a Savanaclaw student that was particularly angry that day, and Jeanne, recognizing him as an Asim, helped in order to gain something from him. Kalim fell in love with her at first sight. Ever since that day Jeanne has tried to manipulate Kalim into being her friend so she could easily steal from him, but as she spent time with him she began to fall in love, and deeply regrets ever trying to harm him.

Jamil Viper: Jeanne likes to push Jamil's buttons, it's funny and cute to see how easily annoyed he gets by her presence. He knew she was suspicious from the beginning, warning Kalim to be careful around him, but all his warnings were in vain, and now she's just a pain in his ass.

Piper: Jeanne is to Piper what Captain Hook is to Peter Pan, a rival. He's always thought Jeanne as someone interesting, going as far as to visit Jeanne everytime her family would stop by Briar Valley to play with her and invent new games; He was always complimented by her father while she was always put down for not being nearly as talented, that plus the fact that he could act as immature as he wanted and have as much fun as he wanted while she was forced to be an adult at the age of 12 made her jealous and angry. Pierre is also the reason she lost her left hand.

Azul Ashengrotto: Azul and the tweels actually met Jeanne before NRC, having crossed with her crew as they sailed away. However, they only got closer once they enrolled at the school. Jeanne respects Azul, but likes to irritate him, telling him she will never accept him as her captain (aka housewarden)... Still, she does everything Azul tells her to do as long as it benefits her or entertains her, and Azul can be super persuasive and entertaining so she most of the time ends up helping him and the tweels.

Floyd Leech: Floyd is unpredictable which is something that amuses Jeanne a lot, not only that but Floyd's always picking a fight with her — I mean like, play fighting — and she's happy to go along bc she thinks he's funny and amusing. The only thing that she doesn't like about Floyd is how he calls her "Codfish", the same nickname Piper has for her.

Jade Leech: Jade and Jeanne are less close than her and Floyd, and because Jade has joked about trying to flirt with her younger sister, she can lose her patience with him rather easily... Still, she finds him funny most of the time, and his schemes always end up making her chuckle.

Leona Kingscholar: Jeanne has idolized Leona ever since she saw him on TV playing Spelldrive, and he is the reason why she got into the Spelldrive team in the first place. She wanted to transfer to Savanaclaw simply because of him, but because he said he didn't want to deal with her following him around like a puppy she decided against doing so. Leona will never admit it but he's grown fond of her.

Ruggie Bucchi: partners in crime. I repeat: partners in crime!! Both Jeanne and Ruggie are obsessed with riches and she often helps Ruggie steal and vice versa, always sharing the stolen goods 50-50; Ruggie doesn't understand her obsession with Leona though, but he gave up questioning her a long time ago.

Character references:

[mydnyteraven]

King

Something I wrote about a year ago about the confrontation with the suitors in the Odyssey after listening to a preview of song 38.. then called King. Now it’s titled Odysseus. It’s still King to me.

They’d taken everything from him, piece by piece, and now… this trial. Like the final straw, something in him snapped, and he stepped forward. The watching crowd and all the men who had struggled before went silent, watching him come.

“You think you can accomplish what a hundred of Ithaca’s finest could not?”

He paid them no mind. His eyes were fixed ahead.

Reaching out from his ragged cloak, he took the bow.

After so many years, his fingers felt the familiar grain of the leather grip, the smooth polished wood of the limbs.

He handled it carefully, tenderly, as if he were holding, not a weapon, but the woman it represented. The one that watched everything with a owl’s gaze.

He lowered the hood of the cloak, and took up the bowstring. Bracing one limb against his foot, he bent the bow over his shoulder and strung it.

The action was smooth, instinctive, even after so long.

He felt the old strength in his hands and in his arms, like he hadn’t felt in years now.

The axes were lined up, the crowd murmured expectantly. He was handed a quiver of bronze-tipped arrows, which he accepted, knocking one smoothly.

He took a single breath, aimed and on the exhale, loosed the arrow.

The arrow flew true and hit the barrier on the far side.

The crowd, silent no longer, erupted like a crash of thunder, hundreds of voices shouting.

Then she stood. He watched her, as she stepped down from the stands and toward where he stood. She moved like a queen. But gone was the girl he remembered, with the quick smile and razor wit. This woman looked at him with suspicion, and exhaustion. He knew she had felt every moment of these last years, the same as he had. She may still look like a queen, while he stood before her in rags, but she carried the same weight. The same pain.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I… I tried—”

She lifted a hand to his cheek, and looked into his eyes, and briefly, he saw a hint of her smile, brighter than the sun.

“I waited for you,” she said, eyes welling with tears.

“No!” Cried the man who had led the competition. He took up one of the axes from where they were lined up.

“This stranger is not even part of this!” He cried. “He has ruined the sanctity of this competition!”

The man in rags turned, and placed himself between the dark man and the queen.

“I have more right to be here than you.” He raised the bow, nocked with another arrow. “Get out of my house. I knew you all when you were children. I know each of your names! Now I stand before you and you say you don’t know me!” The ragged man turned his bow on each man in turn.

They flinched from his aim, shying away from the arrow point. All except one, who still wielded the axe, as if it would do him any good.

“And you…” The ragged man drew the bow. “Your father was a friend. I cared for you like my own son, and now you’ve come, hurt my family, and thought you deserved to take my place!? No.”

He loosed the arrow, and the crowd screamed and began to flee. One of the braziers lighting the room was knocked over and went out, casting the room in darkness. The ragged man’s shadow stretched behind him in the low light, larger than life against the wall.

He stepped slowly forward, and over the body of the dark man, whose blood stained the tiles.

“Who’s next?”

[gachawolfiebloom]

Two Hearts In The City of Love

Chapter 1: Summer Destination

Tags: Love, Love Confession, Romance

"MAARRRIIOOOOOO HEEELLLLPPPP!!!"

Luigi burst through the door of his house to find his brother, casually eating spaghetti at the table. He looked up from his favorite food with an annoyed expression. "What do you want Luigi!? Can't you see Mario is busy right now!?" Luigi tackled Mario and began shaking him while yelling "I GOT FIRED FROM MY JOB! PLEASE HELP!"

Mario didn't see what the problem was. "Pfff, what does Luigi need a job for? Stay home and be a bum like Mario!" He struck a cool pose and put sunglasses on before Luigi nervously walked past him. "You don't understand Mario! That job was supposed to cover our life savings. If I can't find another one..."

He opened a closet that was supposed to hold coins and bags of money in it, but only cobwebs and dust was inside. "Then we might be EVICTED!" Mario squinted his eyes and raised a hand up to his chin as he peeked inside the closet. "Mario thought he saw some money in here yesterday..." Luigi sighed and told him "Don't you remember what happened yesterday?"

~Flashback~

Mario was taking a walk through Mushroom City, but looked incredibly exhausted. He panted and croaked out "Mario's so hungry..." He then spotted a spaghetti truck that was delivering to the Fresh Spaghetti Tubbie factory. His eyes lit up and was determined to give chase to that truck so he ran into the road and punched a driver out of his car. He then proceeded to run a red light, go over the speed limit, and when Frankie was crossing the street, the last thing he heard was the honking of a horn before Mario ran him over.

The truck driver was going on his merry way, until Mario drove out in front of him. "AHHH!" The driver slammed the breaks, but it was too late. Mario hopped out of the car at the last second and danced while the two flaming vehicles behind him were sizzling in smoke. He opened the storage compartment and...

"WHAT!? JUST TUBBIE CUSTARD! THIS IS BULLCRAP! WHERE'S MARIO'S SPAGHETTI!?"

Just then police sirens flared and several officers came out of the cars. "STAWP RIGHT THERE!" A few hours later, Luigi enters the police station and waves to the receptionist. "Hello Luigi! Here to bail out your brother again?" He sighed and nodded. "How much?"

"All of your life savings."

~Present Time~

"Ooooo right." Luigi took a deep breath and looked his brother straight in the eye. "I can't keep bailing you out all the time. We need to find me a job and find you a way to stay out of trouble." The two boys tried to think of a solution until Mario was about to say something. "Mario, if this has anything to do with Spaghetti or your deals with Bob, I don't think that's gonna work."

Just then the TV in their living room started playing static and then a weird ad started to play. It described that there was a lottery going on and the winners would be announced tomorrow. Mario seemed convinced, but Luigi had his suspicions. "This doesn't sound right Mario...are we sure that this isn't a scam or something?" Mario brushed it off and convinced him "Relax Luigi! You wanted money right?"

"Yes, but-"

"THEN LETS-A GO!"

He grabbed Luigi and sped off to a store where the commercial said the lottery was being held. The two boys went to the counter when a familiar ally waved to them. "Shroomy?" The two said in unison. "Well golly gee! Hello boys!"

"You run the lottery?" He nodded and handed them a ticket. "There you go! We'll announce the winner tomorrow afternoon!" Luigi took the ticket and saw that their number was lucky 21, one of the digits that was considered to be good luck by superstitions. "O-o-okay thanks." He gave Shroomy a few remaining dollars and the two them headed back home and awaited the drawing of the winning ticket.

~The Next Day~

Mario was vibrating in excitement on the couch while Luigi held tightly onto the ticket. The suspense led up as the announcer said "And the winner is...LUCKY NUMBER 21!" Both men gasped as they looked down at the ticket and sure enough, it was their's. "YIPPEE!" Mario cheered while Luigi stood in awe. "Wow! We did it. I wonder how much money we won."

"Congratulations number 21! You win 8 tickets to Paris, France!" Mario stopped celebrating and Luigi's eyes widened. "WAT!" Mario ran up to the TV and shook it. "YOU STINKY ANNOUNCER! MARIO THOUGHT HE WAS WINNING INFINITE SPAGHETTI! MARIO WANTS A REFUND!" Luigi was lost in thought with what to do with this until he cried out "Mario wait!"

"What? Mario wants his money back!" Luigi placed a hand on his shoulder and said "This might not be a bad thing. It could actually be great for all of us!" Mario's brain caught on fire because he couldn't understand the nonsense from Luigi's mouth. "We could invite our friends to come with us on a vacation! I could look for a job and there's plenty to do there so you stay out of trouble."

Mario actually did like the idea of a vacation. Last year's was definitely not as relaxing considering they had been trapped in a western simulation. There was just one last thing to convince him. "Will there be spaghetti?" Luigi smiled and said "I'm sure we could find something." That was enough for the fat Italian to hear. He gave his brother a thumbs up and replied "Okey dokey!" Luigi couldn't wait to show the tickets to their friends. "I'm sure they'll love the idea!"

"YOU WANT US TO DO WHAT!?"

All of the crew had came over to Smg4's castle and were sitting on the couch in the game room. Turns out, they weren't as impressed with the tickets as much as Luigi hoped for. "Isn't Paris really far?" Meggy asked. "And very crowded?" Tari also added. "Well yes, but I thought a vacation would benefit us all."

"Benefit us? Remember how beneficial our last vacation was?" Three shot back. Just the thought of it made Meggy shutter. "Mario promises it won't be anything like that! You're onboard right Smg4?"

Four looked up from his computer and made a wincing face at his best friend. "I don't know Mario. We're all a bit busy right now." Mario was not going to miss out on his spaghetti so he slid down to Four's feet and put on his best puppy dog eyes. "Pleeeaaasseeee Smg4! You never hang out with Mario anymore." He began tugging on his overalls and crying all over the floor. The whole ordeal was making Four uncomfortable.

Luigi pulled out a pamphlet that he had gotten with the tickets. "There's many things to do there like a GameStop store, Olympic Games on July 26, Casinos, and many historic sights." Once Luigi mentioned casinos, Bob didn't even think twice. "HELL YEAH! I'M GOING TO GO PACK RIGHT NOW!" Tari did think that a gaming store would be pretty interesting. "That does sound cool. What do you think Meggy?" She stood up and said "Well Wren has already been defeated and I have been wanting to go see the Olympics in person."

Tari squeezed Meggy's hand as if to tell her not to worry about Wren. Meggy offered a small smile in return and said "Count us in Luigi!" Boopkins wasn't sure himself, but he did like spending time with his friends. He tugged on Luigi gently and asked him "Will there be anything on anime?"

"I guess?" Boopkins cheered and pulled out his body pillows. "Did you hear that girls? We're going to Paris!" Mario rolled around on the ground and cried "You don't want to hang out with Mario or let him have spaghetti!"

"It's not that. I just..." Four sighed and rubbed his temples. "Fine Mario. I'll come. Just please stop acting like a 5 year old." Mario immediately sprung up and hugged his best friend. "Thank you Smg4!"

Four looked up and saw Three, crossing his arms and pretending not to care. "So what about you Three? You in?" He sneered and said "NO! I HAVE WORK TO DO AT THE CAFE!" Luigi showed him the tickets and said "But there's 8 tickets."

"Then get one of these chicks to go with you!" He pointed behind him, where Saiko was practicing her guitar and Melony was taking a nap. Saiko looked up and shook her head. "Me and Kaizo are practicing for our upcoming show and I think she's going to be out for a while." Melony surely was a heavy sleeper.

"Then find somebody else Luigi!" Three was about to leave when Mario tried the same schtick that he had with Four. He clung tight to Three's overalls and would not let go. "What the hell!? Get off me idiot!" He tried to shake Mario off, but it was very ineffective. "Pleeeeeeaaaaasssseee Smg3? It won't be the same without you!" Three tried pulling him off with no success.

"FINE! Just let go!" Mario instantly threw himself around Three, except he wasn't as much of a hugger as Four was. "Personal space Mario!" Luigi looked at the tickets and said "Alright well it says that our flight is at 8:00 AM tomorrow morning so we all have to wake up early."

Everyone was advised to start packing and go to sleep early so they would be ready to go. As they all left the room, Meggy and Tari chatted about what they were going to do there, Bob bragged to Boopkins about all the loot he was going to earn, and the brothers were figuring out the arrangements for where to stay and what to sign up for. "Don't forget the all you can eat Spaghetti buffet!"

"I'm...not sure they have that." Mario then noticed the two boys and rushed up to them. "This is so exciting for you two!" They both had confused glances on their faces. "Why's that?" Mario explained "Because Paris is the most romantic city in the world!" His face changed into a smug grin and said "Mario can't wait to see Smg4 and Smg3 wooing over each other!"

They both blushed and Three shot back "NO WERE NOT!" Four flustered backed him up by saying "Right! This is just a vacation amongst friends. Nothing else." Mario wasn't buying it. "Surreee." Luigi called out for him and he said goodbye. He loved seeing the two develop feelings with each other over the years, but they never admitted it to one another. "Maybe Mario could help set up a date for the two." As he walked back home, he figured that he could try helping the two confess while they were up there.

Four could tell that Three was still pretty red so he tried to help. "Sorry about him. I don't know why he does that." Three muttered "Uh huh." The two stood in silence till Four spoke up. "Well I guess I've got to get ready. See you tomorrow? He gave a patient smile to Three which made him even more flustered. "Whatever..." He covered his face with his hand and left before his cheeks became more hotter.

Three had went back to managing his cafe and once it was closing time, he put up a sign that said the cafe was going on break. He didn't want to do it, but thanks to that stupid Italian's efforts and that cute annoying smile of Four's, he had no choice. Before bed, he made sure to call Karen to dog-sit Eggdog and pack for the trip.

Four was not so focused on the trip. He said he was going to get ready, but instead he got sidetracked and went back to making videos. All he had remembered to do was take out a suitcase. By the time he was finished, he looked at the clock and was certainly not expecting this time. "12:00!" It was very late and he hadn't even started packing. He sighed and it seemed that the best course of action was waking up early so he could pack before everybody else got here.

He set an alarm on his phone and got into bed. Actually confessing to Three in Paris. The idea made him laugh. Sounded like a cheesy movie type thing. Besides, he didn't really like Three like that...did he? The idea wandered in his mind for a while before his eyelids gave out and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

[then-be-a-warrior]

@cherllyio @alilcherry

Okay here's my highly anticipated angsty theory about THIS POST

Credit goes to @cherllyio for the original post!

.

.

.

Okay so let's say their symbols are hidden on purpose.

(And let's assume that they didn't choose their own symbols)

.

Going by what everyone else's symbols are, it has to be something that defines them, right? Sandy's symbol is Mo, Pigsy's is a bowl of noodles, etc.

So if Macaque AND Wukong are both purposely hiding their symbols, it's safe to say their symbols either define each other or it's something they don't want to acknowledge. Something they would rather not think about.

And if the writers are hiding it from us, it means that it's something that we, as the audience, also don't know about.

Guys.

Their symbols might allude to how Wukong MIGHT'VE played a role in Macaque's death.

Think about it:

When Macaque and Mk went into the scroll to save Wukong, it's the only part of Wukong's past that wasn't shown. So Mk never saw it and Macaque never mentioned it. It's incredibly likely Macaque doesn't want Mk to know about it either.

And look at Wukong. He's facing away from Mk. Smiling and acting like nothing's wrong even with a CIRCLET ON HIS HEAD...this bitch is hiding something.

But...notice how he and Macaque are facing Mei, though. She might figure something out...

.

As for what the symbols could be, they would have to be something that immediately raises suspicion (or else why would they hide them).

Macaque's could be Wukong's staff.

Wukong's could either be Macaque's staff or a slash or some sort to represent Macaque's eye.

.

So now the only question is: Who the FUCK made these tracksuits??? What kind of sick FUCK-

[dairy-farmer]

Based on that dicktimbabs ask, but honestly after a few years of fucking Dick, when Tim is like 14 or 15, he decides he wants a baby with the man he loves. He assumes this won't be well received and so he simply. Sabotages his birth control

So when he turns up pregnant, it's a total surprise! An accident, completely unplanned. Babs is pissed at Dick more than anything, and Tim begs to keep his baby, to which the two adults quickly reassure him that he can keep the baby if he really wants to and they'll help him, ofc

(and if Tim sabotages his birth control a few more times throughout the years, who's gonna know? It's super easy to erase the suspicion of a young teen popping out so many babies by having Dick and Babs just adopt some of them, that way they all stay in the same home and Tim is able to raise all of his babies together! Shame he's so fertile tho, pregnant with baby 4 before he's 20)

!!!!! babs getting so mad that dick got her baby pregnant! of course that mostly fizzles away when tim begs to keep the baby and try as she might barbara can't help but feel so...pleased. part of the reason she'd adopted tim was that she'd long made peace with the fact that children weren't in the cards for her. it was just something she'd never shed her..squeamish over- the pregnancy, the birth, the changes her body would go through. but despite her feelings she still hadn't made plans for tim to get pregnant! he's too young! his teachers would have questions, cps might even be interested to find out why he young adopted child has fallen pregnant under her custody so soon after she'd gotten married.

but that's easily cleared away. she doesn't like using the sway of being the commissioners daughter nor does dick like using the wayne name but tim ending up in anyone else's home wouldn't be good for him! he's such a sweet and sensitive child and the gotham system would gobble him up. so barbara doesn't feel bad making sure they stay together.

maybe she does feel a smidge of guilt when she switches out tim's birth control after his first baby is born. they're so chubby and sweet and tim seems to be doing such a good job. and...he'd looked so cute waddling around the apartment.

she knows dick would be upset with her for planning to get tim pregnant again. he'd felt so guilty the first time, offering to start pulling out, to even start using condoms. but tim had begged him not to, said that it didn't feel as good and babs had seen how wavering his resolve was to use condoms anyway. he'd never complained to her about because its what they used the few times they fucked but barbara knew how much he disliked them.

maybe barbara is wrong for purposely trying to get her kid pregnant but she couldn't help it. her family was growing, who wouldn't be happy about that?

[iboatedhere]

Heya! If you are still taking prompts then FirstPrince sailboat AU please? 😁⛵

Or garden hose if that's already been suggested! 🌞

If you so fancy ❤️

A little F1 AU?

---

Henry leans against the railing on the lower deck. He looks down at the dark water and watches the lights dance across it. 

It’s past midnight, but Port Hercule is wide awake. Yachts packed in like sardines in a tin, music blasting, beats and lyrics mixing together and creating a jumbled mess of noise. People are talking and singing in French, English, German, and Italian, and there’s a splash as something or someone hits the water, followed by raucous laughter. The smell of burnt rubber, high-octane fuel, and grease still lingers in the air, mixing with the heavy scent of cigar smoke and gunpowder from celebratory post-race fireworks.

Henry would rather be anywhere else, like behind a door that locks. Without people knocking for autographs or photos. Without women offering things he’s never been interested in. 

He wants to go home to his little cottage on the outskirts of London, where there’s plenty of room for David to run and no cameras, reporters, or team principals. 

He just needs a moment of peace, and the little bubble he’s created here will have to do.  

“Henry…”

Henry closes his eyes as the bubble bursts, and Alex’s footsteps echo down the stairs.  

“Someone said you went this way,” Alex says as he steps onto the deck, an entire bottle of champagne in his hand. 

He’s in a suit, jacket on but shirt unbuttoned nearly halfway down his chest. Henry’s seen him in this fit more than in his fireproofs. 

The suit is high-end, of course, and every designer is clamoring to dress him. He’s been on the cover of more fashion magazines than Henry can count. They’ve been popping up in his caravan, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Bea is to blame. 

“Remind me to have that person fired,” Henry says dryly. 

“You can’t fire Cash,” Alex says. “I’d be sad.” 

“God forbid.”

Alex laughs, loose and easy, drunk and happy. 

That’s the whole point, that Alex is happy. 

Alex is everything Mercedes wanted Henry to be. Alex fills in the gaps where Henry fell short. 

Henry wants to race; that’s all he’s ever wanted, but Alex is here to perform. 

Alex is vibrant and outgoing. He’s good on camera and in interviews. He is intelligent and funny, with zero reservations about letting everyone know it. He brings attention and new viewers to the sport, dating this hot, young starlet or that rising pop star. 

F1 sponsors want to pay him, men and women want to be with him, and Henry…Henry just wants him. 

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know exactly what there is for me to celebrate.” 

“Umm, hello,” Alex says, gesturing to himself with his free hand. 

Above all else, Alex is good at racing, having come in first or at least on pole in the last five out of seven races. 

“Congratulations to you on your win,” Henry says as Alex takes a long swig from the bottle, tipping his head back as it spills down his chin and neck. 

Henry’s knuckles go white on the railing. “But you’ll have to forgive me for not wanting to celebrate my own performance.”

“Okay, first of all,” Alex says, pressing the bottle into Henry’s hand and gesturing for him to drink. “We’re a team, so my win is your win—don’t fucking roll your eyes at me—and P6 is nothing to get upset about. You’re in points. That matters.”

“You should tell my brother that.”

“I will. Is he here?”

Henry snorts. “This isn’t exactly my brother’s type of party. It’s not really my type of party, either.”

“Do you mean a fun one?”

“I’m fun,” Henry says as he playfully shoves at Alex’s shoulder. “I am, but this isn’t me.”

“It’s not me either,” Alex says, and Henry laughs. “Why is that funny?”

“Because it’s such a lie. You’re made for this.” 

“No, I’m just good at acting like I am. This isn’t me. This isn’t how I was raised–yachts, champagne, and women hanging off of me constantly, only using me for a photo op.” 

Henry wants to argue that that’s not him either, especially that last bit, but his father’s legacy looms too large, and Henry knows his privilege. 

“Well, I must say you’ve caught on very quickly. And I wasn’t raised on a yacht. It was a thirty-foot schooner.”

Alex laughs. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Henry’s fingers tap against the bottle as he pulls up fond memories of off-seasons spent out on the sailboat with his family. “My father taught me to sail when I was very young.”

“Was that before or after he taught you how to drive? Or was that just in your genes?”

“He taught me,” Henry says softly, pushing those memories back. 

Alex nods and doesn’t push. “Do you still have the boat?”

“Yes,” Henry says. “Docked at St. Katherine.”

“You should take me out sometime,” Alex says, soft and eyes locked on Henry, and Henry nearly drops the champagne bottle.

“If you’d like,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but the way Alex’s gaze drops to his lip lets Henry know he’s heard.

[falderaletcetera]

listen. I don't just love father brown because I first saw it while ill with the flu or because it's consistently kind to the outcast in a way that has reviewers calling it Too Woke, obviously a vote in its favour. or because the recurring thief character is very pretty to watch. though those are significant parts of it.

I love it because after eight seasons father brown sits down with the village drunk (a munitions expert in the war, has a soft spot for the parish secretary, name of harold or blind harry) to find out why he gave a murder suspect a false alibi and harry explains to him, calm as you like, that seeing the life leave someone's eyes changes a person, that it's what he reckons brought father brown to his faith, that it's what drove him to drink, and he didn't see that shadow in the guy the police are chasing this time. and father brown, rather than justifying or correcting or dodging or doubting him, says he knows how unjust the situation is. that he got something good out of the horrors of the war. that harry really didn't.

it is not a perfect show and yes I have problems with it but gosh, this is a character who's largely used for comedic beats, albeit kindly, and a scene like this isn't out of place at all but it still takes my breath away. we could've been left with this as subtext, y'know? I hadn't even put together that his alcoholism must have been trauma. but instead harry tells us this directly, tells us it's about guilt, that that's something he shares with father brown, who is competent and so often cheerful and I can't even imagine when he was younger, and it's a moment of such unexpected humanity and respect. and it's such a strange thing to see these characters side by side like that.

the scene ends with father brown calling harry a good man, and harry denying it ("they was only young lads" "so were we, harold. so were we.") and the two them sharing a drink as father brown gets a bit watery-eyed and I'm crying too over my nice cosy 'this is a concerning number of murders for a sleepy english village' show and just. hi. what. ow.

I also haven't recovered from the episode that turned into a heist halfway through but frankly I'm only mentioning that because I don't know how to wrap up a post like this. (it was good though. there were two separate honeypots, three if you count the impromptu replacement, one character terrible at grifting and one unexpectedly great at it, and, somehow, a con within a con. it was really very fun. get a show that can do both, I guess?)

[killjoy-prince]

DAYBREAK MENTION FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 65 CHAPTERS!!! BABYGIRL I MISS YOUUUU

[papercutsmp3]

bro is inquisitive

[ofginjxints]

closed starter for @myrwild based on (x)

Kenneth was in the middle of conversation, catching up about nothing of note when he felt something at his ankle. Distinctly someone's foot running up his calf. He had a good poker face, of course, managing to continue talking but glancing just for half a moment at her. They had gotten into a routine with one another, speaking a language only they knew how to speak.