#( can be set at any time in the series really

[atlabeth]

(please) spare me indignity

pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies. 

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it. 

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box. 

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy. 

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break. 

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.” 

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?” 

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.” 

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well. 

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.” 

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?” 

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. 

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.” 

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open. 

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good. 

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home. 

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere. 

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.” 

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away. 

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would. 

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again. 

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out. 

You frown. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!” 

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.” 

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it. 

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.” 

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says. 

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it. 

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest. 

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.” 

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back. 

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.  

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason. 

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him. 

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself. 

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care. 

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away. 

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls. 

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” 

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly. 

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person. 

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.” 

-

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off. 

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are. 

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room. 

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn. 

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—” 

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look. 

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?” 

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask. 

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says. 

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation. 

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize. 

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.” 

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.” 

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you. 

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one. 

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.” 

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it. 

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks. 

“Fine,” you say. 

He frowns. “Really?” 

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.” 

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—” 

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt. 

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says. 

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?” 

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—” 

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.” 

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.” 

“Am I not allowed to joke?” 

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.” 

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.” 

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?” 

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.” 

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—” 

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?” 

“A couple spoonfuls but—” 

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends. 

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.” 

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.” 

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?” 

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.” 

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you. 

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?” 

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says. 

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?” 

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.” 

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine. 

“Do they have any leads?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?” 

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.” 

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than  usual, but you drink it anyway. 

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.” 

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.” 

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.” 

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.” 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.” 

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out. 

“Want one?” 

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.” 

“You should.” 

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock. 

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.” 

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?” 

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.” 

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.” 

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response. 

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now. 

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that. 

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you. 

-

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much. 

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever. 

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him. 

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true. 

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace. 

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion. 

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?” 

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.” 

Spencer sits up. “What is it?” 

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.” 

“Who is it?” he asks. 

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—” 

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.” 

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?” 

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.” 

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.” 

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.” 

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.” 

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.” 

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.” 

There’s nothing but silence on the other end. 

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—” 

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—” 

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?” 

“...Some,” Spencer says. 

“Like?” 

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him. 

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.” 

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.” 

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.” 

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.  

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says. 

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.” 

“Spencer—” 

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?” 

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him. 

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom. 

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you. 

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach. 

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear. 

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters. 

He hangs up without another word. 

[istandonsnowpiles]

10 20 Favorite Photos of 2024

For me, in the world of photography, last year was all about growth. I got new gear (mainly my Fujifilm X-T5), expanded my photography to full spectrum, and worked to incorporate photography into my life in new ways.

Looking back, it's hard to believe I took all of these photos in one year. I'll put together some stats in another post.

What's included?

I had to narrow down my selections a lot. Only photos I feel comfortable sharing with everyone are here. I took lots of photos of friends and family this year that are not included. However, those were some of my favorite photos, if I took any of you, you know who you are.

Photos are in roughly chronological order.

Check the Flickr link on each photo for full quality.

1. Out over the Suburbs

Location: Tysons Metro, Tysons, Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-T2 Lens: Viltrox 27mm f/1.2 Settings: 1/80 sec, f/4, ISO 640

I absolute love the gloomy, dystopian vibe of this blue hour photo. The Tysons metro is such a bustling little outpost in NoVa. This feels a little cyberpunk, a little noir, a little [GX]Ace. I'll absolutely be striving to shoot more like this in 2025.

2. Awe

Location: Penn's Landing, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Camera: Fujifilm X-T2 Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: 1/240 sec, f/1.4, ISO 200

This was such a memorable trip to Philly. @dykedotexe and I got to run around in the fog all night, taking pics, and exploring. The city was beautiful. It was my first time in Philly and I want to go back so bad!

3. Typical Van Life Camping Spot

Location: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Camera: Fujifilm X-T2 Lens: @dykedotexe's Fujifilm 23mm f/2 Settings: 1/80 sec, f/2.8, ISO 5000

Photographers tend to recommend trying to get high up, to find a new perspective on a place. I've taken to going up any parking garage I can get access to. This night in Philly, it was a fantastic strategy. It was hard to pick a favorite photo from this rooftop. This crunchy, silly pic came out on top.

4. Sunsets in Ordinary Places

Location: Springfield, Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-H1 Lens: Fujifilm 50-140mm f/2.8 Settings: 50mm, 1/240 sec, f/2.8, ISO 200

Again in a parking garage, but a bit more empty than in Philly. I found myself in this weird spot mostly cause I was bored one day. I took the train out to the end of the Blue line and wandered a bit. I ended up here on a cold, blustery day at sunset. And of course, it was a gorgeous one.

5. Winners

Location: PPG Paints Arena, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Camera: Sony RX100 VII Settings: 72mm, 1/1250 sec, f/4.5, ISO 2500

I can't lie, I'm a Montreal fan. So, when Toronto won this game in the PWHL's on-the-road series in Pittsburgh, I was a bit disappointed. However, seeing Campbell and Carly Jackson was fantastic. This was also my first time renting a camera. I wanted something small that security wouldn't bother me about, the Sony RX100 fit the bill. I didn't love a lot of the photos that came out of that camera. Even this isn't a truly great photo. But, it got the job done and I loved seeing some professional women's hockey with my family.

6. Criss Cross

Location: Southwest, Washington, DC Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 70-300mm f/4-5.6 Settings: 300mm, 1/450mm, f/5.6, ISO 2500

The new Frederick Douglass Memorial Bridge in DC is gorgeous. One of my favorite subjects. Here, captured at dusk, it looked truly marvelous. I was trying out a new lens, on a fairly new camera. I was very impressed with the results! The geometry here really works for me.

7. The Great American Eclipse, Cloud Halo

Location: Saint Albans Bay Town Park, Saint Albans, Vermont Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 70-300mm f/4-5.6 + Solar Filter made by @lesbianredpanda Settings: 1/25 sec, f/8, ISO 500

This was my first time seeing a total solar eclipse. Four of us travelled up to Vermont to get a good view, scouted out locations, and ended up in a small town park for the day. It lived up to the hype and was absolutely worth the time and the trip. Would 100% do it again. Even with a bit of cloud cover (causing the cloud ring around the outside), the eclipse was stunning.

8. No Trains Today

Location: Harper's Ferry Train Station, Harper's Ferry, West Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8 Settings: 55mm, 1/75 sec, f/5, ISO 250

Last year I really got into riding my bike. I've ridden it for commuting for years, but last year I got into riding longer distances, road and gravel, for fun. It's been a blast and it's been incredibly difficult. It inspired me to get a gravel bike. My biggest accomplishment for the year was riding from Harper's Ferry, WV along to C&O Canal Trail back to DC over a long weekend. It's the longest ride I've done, and I did it on my trusty Gazelle Arroyo. This year, I'd like to do the same ride on my gravel bike, and hopefully something even longer!

9. Bubble Bike Party

Location: Cardozo, Washington, DC Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 56mm f/1.2 Settings: 1/250 sec, f/1.2, ISO 5000

You should check to see if your city has a Bike Party or Critical Mass ride. They're fun, party pace, chill rides. Stops in the middle for a party. This is the pride ride for June & represents so much for me. I got to ride this with everyone that I've convinced to get their own bike. And happened to land this fun photo of the party along the way!

10. The Sears Tower

Location: The Loop, Chicago, Illinois Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8 Settings: 55mm, 1/125 sec, f/2.8, ISO 250

Chicago is awesome. This was my first trip over there, and while I did get sick as soon as I got there, I had an awesome time wandering the city. This rainy night was my favorite. Big towers, quiet streets, it felt like a playground. I can't wait to come back. This moody pic really captures the qualities I love about blue hour in cities.

11. Northern Chicago from 1,000 Feet

Location: Chicago 360, Chicago, Illinois Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 16-55mm f/2.8 Settings: IR Chrome Filter, 1/75mm, f/4.5, ISO 320

This photo, taken from the observation level of the mega tourist-y Chicago 360 building, proved to me that digital IR Chrome is super cool and something I should try more. I've loved IR photography for a while. This wasn't my first IR Chrome shot ever, but it's the one I finally started to get the famous red color. It made me want to shoot IR Chrome soooo much more!

12. Big Sky Manhattan

Location: The Edge, Manhattan, New York Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: 1/90 sec, f/5.6, ISO 250

Right after my vacation in Chicago, work sent me to New York. I was still under the weather but after my positive observation deck experience in Chicago, I figured I would try the same in Manhattan. I ended up at the top of the city during a beautiful sunset. It was a fantastic time and truly beautiful.

13. Muffler Max

Location: Penn-Fallsway, Baltimore, Maryland Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 Lens: Fujifilm 56mm f/1.2 Settings: 1/200 sec, f/4, ISO 125

I really need to get to Baltimore more often. It's an easy 1 hour train ride from DC, any day of the week, for under like $30 round trip. I ended up there on a weekend where I was bored. It was raining and overcast all day. But, bad weather usually means good photos. I had a great time walking around. Can't wait to get back and see more of the city.

14. Danger: Chlorine

Location: Sideling Hill Rest Stop, Hancock, Maryland Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: IR Chrome Filter, 1/220 sec, f/2, ISO 125

Took this shot at a rest stop off the highway on the way home from a camping trip. It's the one that convinced me I'm starting to get the editing of IR Chrome photos down. This unremarkable shed nestled in leaves looks truly extraordinary in IR Chrome.

15. Nats Game (Square)

Location: Navy Yard, Washington, DC Camera: Panasonic S5 II Lens: Sigma 50mm f/2 Contemporary Settings: 1/60 sec, f/5, ISO 2000

My second experience renting a camera, I was a little concerned taking gear I didn't own out in the rain. But, it was worth it. The Panasonic S5 II is an excellent camera and there are clear benefits over the Fujifilm X-T5. However, the differences aren't large enough for me to switch systems for them yet. Maybe when Panasonic releases a high resolution version of the S5 II? Either way, I got this excellent street photo at Nats Park!

16. Milky Way & so much more

Location: Sky Meadows State Park, Delaplane, Virginia Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Viltrox 13mm f/1.4 Settings: 13 sec, f/2.8, ISO 1600

If I've learned one thing over the years in photography, it's that Astro photography is incredibly difficult. I'm no pro and have difficulty editing these photos each time. I had fun with this full spectrum milky way shot, but I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing 😅

17. Normal Sunrise

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/60 sec, f/2, ISO 125

I went to Las Vegas for a work conference. While I was aware of The Sphere, I don't think I had really internalized it as a thing that excited until I saw it in person. It is truly a ridiculous piece of engineering and architecture. It's completely unnecessary, an eye sore, and makes the experience of being in Las Vegas worse. So, it's perfect for Las Vegas. This photo (and its IR Chrome alter ego) have cemented it into me that I truly love to hate The Sphere.

18. Monorail Bends

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/210 sec, f/5, ISO 125

This monorail in Vegas is not good transit. Yet, it brought me to all the conference locations I needed to get to. It's annoying to ride, out of the way, dark, loud, and slow. But, it works. And it sured looked great at sunrise.

19. Desert Ocean

Location: I-15 outside of Las Vegas, Nevada Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/3 sec, f/1.4, ISO 6400

Sometimes you take the coolest shots at an empty, desert highway exit, from the roof of a rental car. This funky abstract captures the vibe of the middle of the desert in a fantastic way.

20. River to Watchman

Location: Zion National Park, Utah Camera: Fujifilm X-T5 (Full Spectrum Converted) Lens: Fujifilm 33mm f/1.4 Settings: Hot Mirror Filter (visible light only), 1/110 sec, f/5, ISO 125

Holy cow is Zion National Park beautiful. I'm so happy I got a chance to go here. I only got a few hours in the park, but I was stunned the whole time. It's just unfathomably gorgeous. I have to go back an I think this photo manages to capture my experience of sunset in that park.

I'll be back soon with some more breakdowns of my 2024!

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

HICKEYS

trans ftm!franco colapinto x male!reader

request: trans driver yelling at reader for leaving hickeys places and others seeing and messing with them - 🐺

summary: you get a little carried away and your boyfriend pays the price.

warnings: mildly suggestive, mentions of franco's media shenanigans, short

word count: 314

"AMOR!!"

your head whipped up at the distressed tone in franco's voice. "what? what happened? are you okay?"

franco rounded the corner into his driver's room. his cheeks ablaze, he crossed his arms and glared at you.

"uh-oh," you muttered, setting aside your phone and giving your boyfriend a confused smile. "... what did i do?"

he didn't say anything.

franco simply tilted his head and pointed at the rather large mark on his neck from last night's ... activities. you nodded slowly. hickeys usually didn't bother franco much. if anything, he reveled in the chaos they caused when they were inevitably spotted during a race weekend.

"and?"

"i was talking to lewis and i didn't know it was there!" franco whined, shoving your shoulder gently.

you nodded again. "... and?"

your boyfriend looked at you in bewilderment. "and it was embarrassing!"

"okay ...?" you shrugged, hands moving to rest on franco's waist as he pouted at you. "i'm not sorry, you flirt with people too much for them not to know you're taken."

"i talk about you all the time?"

"yeah, but this is just ... an extra precaution." you smirked.

franco groaned, hiding his face in your neck. "i was talking to lewis about the race and he interrupted to ask if i had hurt my neck in training and i had to explain that my boyfriend is just a vampire."

"i am not a vampire!" you argued, barely suppressing your laughter. "i just happen to like people knowing you're mine."

"i got teased so much!"

"so wear 'em proudly next time."

"no!" franco yelped, pulling back to point at you sternly. "no next time. no hickeys on race weeks."

you raised an eyebrow at him cheekily and backed him up against the wall, tilting your head to kiss his neck lightly. "you sure you can hold yourself to that?"

...

"no."

©thekoalapastriesbakery :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: i was gonna do more drivers for this but i only really got inspired for franco—if i get inspired for others i will definitely make this a little series bc i think it's funny 🫶

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ncrsbrg @spoonfulofmilo @justaf1girl @widow-cevans

[spicy-apple-pie]

Hi I hope you take no offense to this but with your recent adopted Damian au with the female penguin not accepting their proposal and Bruce telling Damian they don't have to and they'll (the male penguin) find someone else to love.

I know that you don't ship Brutalia and Selina is in the background of one of the adopted Damian au episodes (plus this is your work and you can do whatever you want) but I was stalking your posts and I saw that an user said in an ask that Talia faked a miscarriage because Bruce was putting himself in danger so Talia hid the miscarriage to protect him so I don't feel it was valid to say or insinuate that Talia didn't "accept" his proposal because they were happy together in your au at one point since they had Damian's nursery set up together, and Talia left her relationship with Bruce to protect him and Damian.

You don't have to really respond to this since you already said Brutalia won't be in this series. I hope I didn't offend you or come off as rude

no offence taken lol! The penguins weren't supposed to represent Talia and Bruce's exact relationship ( though, if there was a way for penguins to develop that complex of a relationship, that would be amazing) , but simply setting up for a larger conversation down the road.

Also, I'm not that great of a writer. This project is just very disorganized and the pacing could be better, etc. etc. So I might accidentally imply something I didn't mean to ig idk.

Also Also, I have no idea what Selina's and Bruce's relationship is in this comic lol. Just that they are close. Maybe just as friends, dating, fwb, idk. Just kinda up to you on how you want them to be. There is light Brutalia, but I mostly ship them in a way where they were very much in love, but grew apart. I honestly kind ship it more than BatCat. But again, idk lol.

Light spoilers past this point if you care.

Basically, Bruce and Talia weren't exactly dating when Damian was conceived. While training in the League, Bruce did want to have a solid future with Talia, and so did she, but they were both too dedicated to their separate cause to compromise. Talia was still very loyal to her father while Bruce was loyal to Gotham. So they decided to split.

It was rough at first, since they were still very much in love. But it kinda developed into a long distance sorta dating sorta friends with benefits. Idk it's hard to explain. Basically, they loved each other, but understood that they were on different paths, but enjoyed the other's company all the same.

After the miscarriage, Bruce tried to reach out several times, but Talia ghosted him out of guilt. As you could imagine, that drove a wedge between them. And slowly they just fell out of love.

Of course this would be hard to explain to Damian's baby brain and they don't really want Damian to "pick a side" since it's a very grey area. So they'll simplify it. Sometimes people fall out of love. Sometimes people reject your pebble. And that's okay. It doesn't mean that either of them love him any less or more than the other.

Idk, that's kinda what I'm going for lol

[marauder-misprint]

The Morning After

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.3k words

cw: fluff

The next morning, you aren’t talking to anyone. You are far too in your head with conflicted feelings about yesterday’s date to converse with anyone. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel all the eyes on you. Word of your date with Sirius had quickly spread beyond your friend group. There are whispers accompanying the stares but your ‘don’t talk to me’ face wards off any questions directed at you, for the most part. 

“Well?” Regulus asks as soon as you sit down across from him at breakfast. 

Dorcas leans her elbow on the table so she can get a full look at you. Instead of answering Regulus, you reach for a mug in front of you and it’s filled with tea by the time it reaches your lips. Regulus waits a moment after you set the mug down before giving Dorcas a pleading look. 

“How was it?” Dorcas asks.

You hum. “Could use some sugar. Can you pass it?”

Regulus holds out the container of sugar cubes for you.

“We’re not talking about your tea,” he says. His voice is teetering on impatience. 

“No?” you retort blandly. You didn’t want to talk about the date until you knew how you felt about it. 

“How was your day with Sirius?” Dorcas asks. 

You take another sip of your tea and nod.

“Much better,” you mumble. 

Dorcas and Regulus share an annoyed look.

“Can’t you just get the rundown from Marlene later?” Pandora asks Dorcas with a hand gesturing toward the Gryffindor table. “Seems like Sirius is more talkative this morning.”

Sure enough, when you turn around, you can see Sirius deep in a lively conversation. He’s surrounded by his usual crowd, all of whom are leaning in, captivated by whatever he’s talking about. James throws his head back laughing as Marlene says something. By the looks of the rest of the group’s reaction, it was an insult aimed at Sirius. 

Facing Regulus again, you sigh. “It was… fine. He wasn’t a complete arse.”

Dorcas’ face lit up. She had hoped the date went well because if you started actually dating Sirius, she’d have another Slytherin in their Gryffindor group. The Gryffindor group that already liked you. 

“Sooooo, will there be another?” she asks eagerly. 

Your face snaps towards hers. “I don’t know,” you say bitterly. “Maybe? Probably not?” You groan and rub your temples. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what?” Dorcas crosses her arms. She obviously wants to know every detail about  your date and why there won’t be a second one. 

“Isn’t there a quidditch match coming up? Last one of the term?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not nearly as interesting as-” 

You threw a slice of toast at Regulus to shut him up.

“Talk about quidditch or I’m eating in silence.”

---

At that moment, you want to be left alone so you can work on your assignments. You can’t work in your dorm, Dorcas and Pandora would hound you for details about the date. You can’t work in the common room, same thing but with Regulus and maybe Evan and Barty since they were nosy. You drag yourself to the library and search for an empty table that’s semi-out of sight. You really hope people respect the unwritten rules of the library that when someone is working, you leave them alone. 

For the most part, they do. You are completely unbothered minus the few lingering stares and too-loud whispered comments. You work through it. It’s nothing too disruptive and one harsh glance from you often sent the culprits scurrying off. 

“-made progress, Moony. I really think she’s warming up to me!”

That voice. You stop writing, eyes wide as you continue to stare at your parchment. 

“That’s great, Padfoot, really, but can you help look for the book?”

“She confirmed that I’m attractive.”

“I know.”

“That has to mean something.”

“Maybe…”

“She didn’t say she wouldn’t write over Christmas!”

“Sirius!” The second voice, that you recognized as Remus, was growing irritated. “We can talk about her later. The Charms essay is a bit more pressing right now.”

The Charms essay. The one you were currently working on and had snagged several books for. You hear Sirius let out a soft groan. You look up in time to see them appear from the shelves next to you. Sirius pales slightly, realizing you probably just heard everything he said. You give them an awkward smile.

“Which book were you looking for? ‘Fraid I might’ve grabbed it,” you offer.

Remus approaches your table, leaving Sirius where he stood. “Tunnels and Tombs of Moldova.”

You scan the table and spot it among the pile of books you haven’t looked at yet. You point at it.

“You can take it. Just bring it back when you’re done?”

“Thanks,” Remus says quickly, grabbing the book and heading off to wherever he and Sirius are set up.

Sirius is still standing just beyond the bookshelf aisle he emerged from. He’s staring at you, waiting for you to say something. 

“You better go with him, Sirius,” you say after a moment. “I doubt Remus will write your entire essay for you.”

Instead of following Remus, Sirius walks up to your table, standing at your shoulder and looking down at your essay. 

“You did enjoy yourself yesterday, yeah?”

It’s one of the few times you’ve heard him sound so uncertain, so unsure of what your answer would be. You tear your eyes from your essay to look into his grey eyes. The uncertainty isn’t just in his voice but etched onto his face. Like he really cares what you have to say.

“It… it wasn’t bad. Don’t think I’ll be writing to you over Christmas, but you know,” you say earnestly.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“So that’s a ‘no’ on a second date then?”

Part of you wants to laugh. Did he really think you were interested? Were you interested?

“Sirius…” 

“Yeah?”

“Ask me again after the next quidditch match.”

The widest grin spread across his face, his eyes lighting up. 

“So there’s a chance! You are warming up to me!”

You give him a gentle shove in the center of his chest, causing him to take a step backwards.

“Don't push it, Black,” you warn as you turn back to your essay and reach to grab a new book from the pile. 

There is silence again so you assume that Sirius left your side to find Remus. You end up not needing the book that Remus borrowed from you. You finish the essay without it. You move onto your other homework and are about done when Remus comes back, holding the book. 

“Oh, are you leaving?” he asks, confused. 

You nod as you finish stacking the books on the table.

“Are you done with that book? You can just set it on the stack and I’ll get ‘em put away.”

Remus steps forward cautiously and puts the book on top of your pile. He’s eyeing you carefully.

“Are you playing with him?”

Remus’ tone is almost accusatory, which takes you aback. You focus on putting all of your work back into your bag as you answer him.

“No? I don’t think so? What do you mean?”

“I know you heard him when we were over here. Made him jump through some hoops to get you on a date. And now you’ve given him hope that there’ll be a second date. He’s giddy ‘bout it.”

Standing up straighter, you say, “I need time to figure some things out.”

“Hm.”

You watch Remus walk away before turning to tap the stack of books with your wand so they would return to their places. Sirius is giddy about the chance of a second date? You think that’s a bit of an overreaction, but you’re not sure if you can talk since you don’t know how you feel about him. He was so concerned about if you had a good time yesterday. You had had a good time. You’d be damned if you told anyone that right now. The more you thought about it, you didn’t not have a good time every time you were around him. Maybe if you got to know him a little bit more…

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife

[lurkingshan]

Following the latest spicy happenings, I just wanted to share again my own perspective on fandom etiquette and tumblr interaction for folks who follow or engage with me on here. I've been clear about my boundaries here, and people who choose not to respect that get what they get. I tend to write with a clear perspective and let my words speak for themselves, and while I love to discuss and even have friendly disagreements, I don’t bother responding to folks who are clearly not engaging in good faith. I block when it rises to the level of blatant rudeness or when someone is developing an unhealthy fixation.

That said, there’s really no need to be dramatic about getting blocked on tumblr. Blocking doesn't mean anything except that you don't want to engage with a person or their content anymore, for any number of reasons that are all perfectly fine and valid, because this is your curated space. It doesn't make us sworn enemies. We're all just internet strangers and no one owes you their time and attention.

If you couldn't tell, I am a fandom old. I've been in and around various fandoms, on tumblr and in lots of other online spaces, for multiple decades. I used to dwell in Western fandom spaces in the era when TV and book series were much, much longer and people had flame wars and knock down, drag out fights over canon interpretations that lasted for literal years. In comparison, today's version of fandom bickering is much milder, and extreme sensitivity about even the gentlest of critical analysis is just silly to me. In terms the youths will understand: some of y’all wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

I’m not here to be popular with everyone (that’s not possible nor a healthy goal). I’m here to write about the things I care about and connect with other folks who also enjoy discussing those things in a similar or complementary fashion. If that’s not you, and you want to unfollow or block to protect your peace, that’s completely fine and I’m not holding a grudge.

So let me be clear. Once I've blocked or been blocked by someone, I am not bothered about what they're saying or doing. I'm not squatting on their blog on the web to read their posts. I'm not asking friends to keep tabs on their commentary so I can respond to it. I'm not creating side blogs or burner accounts to slyly continue following them. I'm not going on anon to send them mean asks. All of that is weirdo behavior and deeply disrespectful of a boundary that’s been set. Once I've blocked you, or you've blocked me, I am just not thinking about you at all.

[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#3 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology | 800 words

previous next series masterlist

22nd  May, 1996

You’re probably one of the worst customers Toji’s ever had. 

Perfect Princes Escort Services placed their escorts hierarchically. At the top of the food chain were the Gojo-Geto pair, so high in demand they could pick their own customers and set their own prices. Perhaps Nanami could’ve asked for the same benefits if he hadn’t demanded that 401 (k) instead. 

Newcomer runts like Toji sat snug on the bottom rung. You were actually his first high-paying customer, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s really worth it. 

“So, tell me about your family back home, Toji-kun.” The candlelight from the romantic dinner table reflects the burning curiosity in your eyes. “Got any siblings?”

Like hell I’d tell ya. 

“Don’t have either, miss.” Toji forks a mussel open and dumps it all over his spaghetti. He doesn’t bother plastering a polite smile on. He has no incentive to: you’ve already made the mistake of pre-paying for 10 days, and he highly doubts that you’ll extend the contract with him any longer. Nanami once told him– when moderate efforts do the job, moderate efforts are all you should put in– and Toji decided to brand it into his heart. 

He’s very invested in spiral-mixing his shellfish into his spaghetti when the sound of you scoffing cuts into him. 

You scoffed at him. You scoffed. At him. 

Red-hot rage flashes to his skull before reason has a chance to. Triggered instinct– white knuckle grip bending the fork– shoulder tightened in anticipation of an arm drawn to sma–

“Like I’d believe that.” Unaware of the danger you’re in, you’re smiling so sweetly at him. No condescension, no ill meaning. “You know your forks, you weren’t raised in a barn.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your tastes are dogshit, who mixes oysters and pasta? But even when you’re not trying, your dinner table etiquette is so proper. You leave your dinner fork on your plate and pick your oyster with the oyster fork, you keep your wine glass diagonally to your left, you know the difference between a bib and a lap-napkin. I bet you’ll eat the dessert with the tiny spoon too, O Prince Toji.” 

No longer a weapon, the fork returns to its duty of gingerly shovelling food to Toji’s mouth while you add, “And we don’t even use forks that much. You were raised into money then. Let me guess, a runaway second son of a renowned clan who fell into debt or drugs?”

For a long time, the only sounds are of the cutlery scraping the china. A habitually thoughtless speaker, you slowly sink into a mortified guilt of touching a nerve not meant to be exposed to the air. I was only joking around (that’s quite a horrible apology) or maybe Geez, I didn’t think you'd be so sensitive (even worse). After all these years, apologies are still so hard for you to manage. So you just slip this one word out: “Sorry.”

Toji doesn’t look at you. “Think you’re so smart, knowing so much about me, huh? I know about you too.” 

“Like what?”

“No,” he shakes his head glumly. He’s not angry exactly, more like the topic provokes like a popped blister. “You’ll complain to my boss.”

“I won’t, I promise.” 

“Fine, then.” And he sets his stoneheavy eyes on yours. They're deep green, you notice, the colour of an old lake. “These aren’t oysters.” 

“Huh?”

“It’s a fucking mussel. I don’t know how you can confuse the two.” He picks an unopened one up and pries it open with a nail. “See? It’s so much smaller and thinner than an oyster. Oysters taste like strong salty boogers, but mussels–” He scoops the flesh out, drops a bit of marinara on it and hands you the fork. It’s good, you realise, the gentle flavour of the mussel carrying the pasta sauce well. “–Mussels taste like the ocean.” 

A minute passes as you chew, apology taking shape on the tip of your tongue: “I’m sorry I got too much.” 

“Apologise for shitting on my taste in food too.” 

“Fine, Toji-kun, I’m sorry I called your tastes dogshit. Maybe shellfish and pasta do go together.” 

“That’s right, miss.” He cocks his head to the side, grinning like a troublemaker. “I wouldn’t expect you new money to know about delicate tastes that much.” 

And you can’t help smiling as well. “That easy to read?”

“I’m just observant.” He taps his temple. “Your family wasn’t poor but you struggled sometimes, you’re actually left handed but you trained your right hard to work too, so now you’re ambidextrous, you had two younger siblings possibly sisters, you don’t actually like either spaghetti or mussels, you over-steep your tea, your watch is 19 seconds late, you have a rash on your left thigh, you need to moisturise your hands more and learn to blend your foundation into your neck, and your family died recently.” He leans back against the chair and burps. “There, we’re even now.” 

You’re left gaping at him. 

“... Anything else, Toji-kun?”

“You have pasta in your teeth.” 

Toji left the second session with a distinct sense of victory.

previous next series masterlist

a/n: pancakes are the bane of my existence. they taste just fine without putting things on top (not too sweet is the best compliment) but noooo you just have to ruin it with syrup or butter. and then u have to cut it with a fork and knife. its useless, its wasting fucking time. my hands could just hold it like a burger and finish the whole ordeal quick, even chopsticks maybe if they're not too heavy. fork and knife is decidedly the worst way to eat pancakes.

[whereispearlescentmoon]

I am really loving your deep, philosophical look at the characters in the life series, such as the one you did for Cleo and here loyalty and love for her allies. Could you perhaps do one for Mumbo?

So I actually hadn’t watched Mumbo’s pov of anything but Secret Life and a bit of Wild Life but I’m sick and you asked very nicely so I decided to watch some of his Last Life to answer this lol.

The thing about Mumbo that I love is that he is so afraid all the time. And I’m not saying as an insult, it’s just the truth. Of everyone in the series he (and Lizzie) feels the most like a person who was dropped into a death game that, and this is crucial, he knows he won’t win. Not to bash Mumbo’s skill, but he’s not good at PVP, and he’s not great at keeping himself alive. Neither of those things bode well for his survival and he knows that. So he spends the whole time afraid. But what he lacks in skill, he makes up for in smarts.

One of the first things he says in Last Life is that he’s A) Completely terrified and B) Bad at surviving in Minecraft. He’s determined to survive on the merit of his redstone skills, but unfortunately, brains can only get you so far when when you’re being chased down by someone. He looses two lives in his second episode, one right after very triumphantly killing Joel with only a stone axe, because even when he does something cool we must be reminded that he’s kind of pathetic. Every time the boogeyman was chosen, he would hide in fear for a little bit, unsure if he could trust anyone. He’s extremely jumpy. In episode two he gets genuinely startled by items coming up after he places a block on them. And like, he can’t really because for his first season he teamed up with people who actually took the whole “red names cant have alliances unless the other people are red and boogeymen lose all alliances” seriously. Hence the whole “join me” thing with Grian. If paranoia was a person, it would be Last Life Mumbo.

His secret life series is probably the best example of him driven by fear and the knowledge that he probably won’t win. Like, he was paranoid in Last Life, but there was almost a resignation to the fact that he wouldn’t win. In Secret Life, he’s really really trying. But no one else believes him, which only makes him more frantic to prove that he can be good at this. For example, Pearl, despite being his ally, dedicates herself to Bdubs and Joel (and later Scar) winning, but not him. And the second he goes red, when things start going really wrong, he falls apart completely. He panics, like he always does, and flails. And most importantly, he still holds true to the old Last Life rule that reds don’t have allies anymore, hence why he tries to kill Pearl. He can’t get any kills, he’s running around like a chicken without its head. And he dies to a stupid joke he set up himself.

And then the best way to prove that he ends up taking himself out by panicking is Wild Life. First, yes, he does die to a failed trap he himself set up which is funny for the guy who relies on his redstone to succeed in the series. But then when he comes back as a zombie and has no fear of dying, he actually gets a decent number of kills? Like, if he would just take Natasha Bedingfield’s advice and release his inhibitions, he could feel the rain (victory) on his skin.

[runningfrom2am]

moon river // part two

summary: people in lincoln county are dropping dead alongside their livestock, the wells are running dry and children are prompted from their beds to wander unconsciously in the night. billy has been hired as a last resort by the lawmen as a bounty hunter, charged with the task of hunting and killing the witch responsible in exchange for a reward and the clearing of his name. how could he turn that down?

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: witch!reader x bounty hunter!billy, warning for like,,, witchcraft and stuff i suppose?? mentions of death, minor amounts of gore and animal mutilation. devil worship and other supernatural/biblical tea. also angst. probably.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

To you, Billy was a reluctant friend slowly wrapping vines of ivy around your ankles and up your calves. You didn't mind the itch of his constant presence on your mind, especially when the final destination of its growth was your heart. You were too busy setting up the trellis to be concerned about keeping it trimmed, anyway.

He would come and go from your forest home like the change of seasons that turned more and more often as time went on. He'd sit with you while you tended the graves, and spend afternoons with you in your cabin while you baked fresh bread or cookies, willing to eat whatever you made even if he couldn't for the life of him figure out where your ingredients came from.

"You know," You hum one day, sitting on a blanket outside your little cabin that was almost as covered in ivy as you felt. "You are lucky the town isn't really cursed."

Billy scoffs out a laugh from his spot next to you, laid back on the blanket with his hat over his face to simulate a nap in the sun he wasn't truly taking. "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Well, of course, but what I mean is that you folks went about it all wrong." You explain, closing and placing the book in your lap to the side. "With a curse of that magnitude, typically it culminates with the casting witch's death. So if you had found them and killed them like you planned, it would've only gotten worse."

"Darlin', sounds like you're still pleading with me for your life." Billy chuckles, lifting his hat a little bit to be able to look over at you from beneath its shade. He's met with his favourite view, you, with the sunlight dancing off your skin and gleaming with the strength of your smile.

You roll your eyes playfully, gently picking up some stray leaves of grass from the blanket and tossing them aside. "I know you're not gonna kill me," You giggle, "and you know I'm not responsible."

"That I do." He confirms, pushing himself to sit up. He takes in the view surrounding your home, the trees that encase this little paradise made up of a small frog pond and an unsurprisingly extensive garden. You grew nearly everything you ate out here, the forest providing you with a perfect amount of sun to help them grow and rain to help them thrive. That's what he assumed, anyway.

"It is, anyway though. Gettin' worse." He mumbles after a few moments of contemplative quiet, helping you dust off the blanket and peeking casually over at the cover of your book. The Eldritch Arbetorum I. He knows less than nothing about what that means, but part of him wishes he could.

"The crops and such? I'm sorry to hear that." You frown, chewing on your lip while you think about it. Maybe there was something you could do, but you doubted the townsfolk would let you get close enough for a long enough period to try. "What about the animals?"

"Every week, like clockwork." Billy replies with a click of his tongue and the slightest shake of his head.

You chew on your lip, watching him closely. It's weighing on him, you can tell. From what he's told you he's a wanted man, yes, but he has a good heart. You know that much for sure. Even when he came all this way carting a bullet with your name, he was doing it to save people.

"What about..." You start, hesitating on how to ask this. "The local children? All are well?"

Billy scrunches up his nose a bit in thought, still avoiding your eyes. "Well enough, from what I know. None have died, at least. I hear whispers that some are sick."

Your cat, Dante, scurries through the grass and onto the blanket beside you, chirping toward you as he crawls up onto your lap. Instinctively you let your hands find comfort in his fluffy orange fur, taking in Billy's words.

The children are okay, that's all that really matters.

"Good, that's good." You say softly, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure they will recover well. I'll send you back with some tonic, if you would be willing to leave it with the parents. Something that should help."

"Yeah... yeah, that would be nice." Billy's already considering how exactly he would go about that- not many folks liked an outlaw dampening their doorsteps. Especially not to give them something for their kids to drink. He would have to leave it on the porch with a note, or something. Then it would be up to them to decide how desperate they were for a solution to their kids plight. "Why do you ask, though? About the kids."

Your eyebrows raise slightly in shock, and it takes you a second to respond. A second in which Dante takes the opportunity to glare at Billy, a low growl leaving his tiny form. He had yet to forgive Billy for trying to take his mom from him, though it was a mystery how he knew about that. Or maybe it was the fact that he hadn't met another living soul in the five years of his short life in which he had been out here in the woods with you, but Dante made it clear at every turn that he did not like your new friend.

You gently pat the cat's head to get him to stop, which he promptly does, before you come up with an answer.

"I was just wondering." You say, tilting your head with a smile that's mildly dismissive. "You know, if people are falling ill. I was hoping the kids would be spared."

"Yeah, fair enough." Billy agrees, his eyes darting between you and your fluffy orange companion. He tended to become a lot more skittish around Dante, ironically enough- but that likely came from being bit and swatted at by tiny claws one too many times over the last few weeks.

You reach over the edge of a blanket to a nearby flower blossoming from the healthy dirt that surrounded your home, swirling your hand around its unopened petals. Your action seems to encourage it to bloom, and Billy watches, his smile returning and the worried crease in his brow ceasing as you gently pluck the stem from the ground. "For you."

He was in awe of you at every turn, his cheeks flushing as he takes the flower from your extended hand. "Thank you, darlin'." He grins, turning the stem to look at it before looking up at you again. "I ain't ever been given a flower before. That's sweet of you."

He brings it up to his nose to smell its purple petals in a somewhat dramatic gesture before grabbing his hat and tucking it under the black ribbon around the outside. "You like it?" He asks as he places it back on his head.

"Yeah." You giggle, nodding as you look at the new accessory to his hat. It wouldn't last forever, but for now, it was cute. Even as it further blurred the lines of what your relationship was. Though, that was mostly your doing by gifting him a flower in the first place. "Purple is a good colour on you, I think."

"Ah, thanks, sunshine." He chuckles, removing the hat to examine it further. "It suits you a bit more, I'm not much for colours myself."

"You like blue, though." You reply, pleased to move on from the anxiety inducing topic of the problems going on in town. "And that red sweater."

"That's true." He admits, shrugging slightly. "My ma always dressed me in blue, though. She gave me that sweater too, matter of fact."

"A mother's touch, I see. She had good taste. As most mothers do." You say, with that same lighthearted tone that keeps him coming back to visit you. That, among a variety of other things, being just about everything about the energy you exude in waves. A silent battle he's been waging in his mind for a long time now; whether you get your power from the forest or if it gets it from you. Secretly, he's leaning toward the latter.

The topic of his family was something he hated breaching in the best of times, but your voice, sweet like honey in his ears makes it easier. You seem to do that with everything you touch.

When the skies outside of the forest started darkening in the coming weeks, perpetually clouded but never granting the county a drop of its refreshing rain, people got more anxious. It was like a palpable negativity in the air, crowding the increasingly empty main street. It was nearly always quiet, never a direct threat but people were packing up and leaving based on the energy in the air alone- and Billy couldn't blame them in the slightest.

It was noon, around midday, he was sure- when the overcast and dim sky provided enough cover for a break in. About twenty yards prior he'd dismounted to lead her, after she started to get clearly irritated and not want to take the worn path they normally did to get to the edge of your forest.

The sound of glass shattering at a nearby home drowns out the crickets song, making Billy turn his head toward the commotion coming from the ranch home not far off. Then the screaming, a woman's scream- the scream of a mother losing a child, a cry he had heard before and rocked him to his core in a way that made his stomach turn and his feet move in that direction against his will.

Dante alerted you to Billy's near arrival, high pitched meows quickly approaching the porch as he hops up onto the window sill in your little cottage kitchen.

"Oh, hush- it's just Billy." You scold him with a slight laugh, reaching up to ruffle the cats fur. The insistent meows continued, and you could feel the prick of his upturned hairs, which told you something was wrong, this time. It was Billy though, you could feel his energy in the air. The usual dreary grey feeling of loss and loneliness normally overshadowed by his cheerful blue, the weight of his good intentions falling dull to the sadness this afternoon.

You glance out the window, brow furrowing slightly as you quickly hang the last few bits of lavender to dry on the twine to be draped over the rafters this evening. Brushing your hands off on the front of your skirt and hurrying to the door, you're not sure what happened or what you're about to be met with, but Dante follows dutifully.

"Billy?" You call, just as he comes into the clearing, having forced his horse to carry him quicker through the trail he would normally take on foot, through the thick trees and branches that this time parted to let him through.

He jumps down from his horse, narrowly avoiding falling into your little pond and disturbing the family of toads you know don't like to be unsettled during the late afternoon.

You reach out with a slight wince, but relax when he steps over the edge of the water in his effort to get to you, digging into his pocket and holding out his flask with urgency as he grabs your upper arm, startling you away from your relief that the toads would be okay.

Billy's eyes are wide, hair mussed under his hat and breathing slightly shallow as you look up at him with a confused furrow to your brow.

"Can you tell me what's in here?"

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy read Lizzie's letter and meet with Michael after his return from America.

Word Count: 5,823

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, polyamory, references to pregnancy, and an unhappy marriage.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 6: A Display in the Dark

“Fucking hell.” 

That was the first thing that passed Tommy’s lips when he was done reading the letter Lizzie had given Lucy to pass onto him. Lucy watched him toss the pages of closely-scrawled words onto his desk, ripping off his glasses to set down beside them. 

She’d read the letter over his shoulder, squinting at the various spelling and grammatical errors throughout. Lucy wondered if maybe Lizzie had been drunk while writing at least some of it. She didn’t remember any of the work that she’d done as Tommy’s secretary being so sloppy.

The contempt which seemed to bleed out through the words scrawled on the pages was a stark contrast from the apologetic, saddened Lizzie she had spoken to not even an hour ago. But she supposed that she shouldn’t be all that surprised. That was how Lizzie was: sweet one moment, then wrathful in the next.

And to think that they all called her two-faced.

“I can’t really say if that was what I was expecting or not,” she commented, turning to look out the window at the darkened grounds. “What do you want to do about it?”

Tommy leaned back in his chair to rub at his eyes. He looked exhausted, dark circles swelling beneath his blue irises. “Nothing right now.”

She frowned. “Nothing? She’s talking about divorce, Tommy.”

“Yeah. If I don’t change.” His hand dropped to fold with the other in his lap, thumbs twiddling. “I don’t think that I can, Lucy,” his voice was quiet. She drew in closer to him, his distress serving like a beacon that summoned her to climb into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his forehead. 

“You shouldn’t have to just to make her happy.” If she really loved him, she’d have loved him as he was, rather than demanding he change everything about himself just to please her. It baffled her that Lizzie couldn’t understand that.

Tommy dropped his face to rest against her collarbone, thumb circling around her hip bone after his hands came to rest on her waist.

“So what do we do?” she asked, nose pressing into his soft hair. “Let her leave? I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but it’ll kick up all sorts of other problems…”

“I know,” he sighed, the puff of breath warm on her skin. “I’ll talk to her first. See if I can think of something to at least indulge her for a little while.”

“She acts like she’s living some horrible, deprived life.” She looked around at the enormous, ornate room they were seated in. Lined with bookshelves and expensive furniture with custom-made paintings hanging on the walls. “Outside of your love, it’s not like she wants for anything here.” 

“Every time that I think she’s getting better, that she’s starting to accept…things, she slides back to where she was before.” He leaned closer into her. “I don’t know what more to do for her. I’m not sending you away, and I can’t pretend to feel about her in a way that I don’t.”

“Mm. She’d probably know you’re pretending and just get more angry about it, anyway.” Lucy started to stroke his hair. Her gaze drew back to the letter still laid out on the table, eyeing in warily. “I am surprised that she didn’t try to demand that you get rid of me.” It had been a notable omission in the letter, considering she knew that it was a spot of deep contention for Lizzie. Maybe, just maybe, that was a sign of some miniscule of progress. 

“She knows that’s not an argument she’s going to win.”

Lucy leaned back just enough to be able to cup one of his cheeks, smiling a little in spite of herself at his eternal protectiveness over her. “Is it terrible that knowing that makes me happy?”

He shook his head, arms tightening around her. “She flat out refused to apologize for what she said about you, did you know that?”

“I figured as much.” She thought back to her latest chess game with Lizzie; how Lizzie had notably apologized for Charlie overhearing, but not for what she’d actually said. 

“You’re not terrible,” he asserted firmly, leaning in to kiss her. “Not even a little.”

“Well…” she smiled against his lips. “I have killed quite a lot of people.” She giggled between kisses at the approving purr that came from his chest. 

“And your point is…?”

She laughed at his unbothered tone, kissing him back more firmly, humming when one of his big hands found its way into her hair. 

“Let’s not worry about her anymore right now,” Tommy whispered, tugging her closer.

A pang of remorse crackled through her at how easy it was for both of them to put Lizzie out of their minds. But then Tommy’s tongue slid into her mouth, and she became guilty of the very thing she’d moments ago been feeling ashamed of. 

“It’s late,” he murmured, arms squeezing around her. “Let’s go to bed.” 

She nodded in agreement, kissing him once more before climbing from his lap, biting back a grin at the way he chased her with his lips, a small whine leaving his throat. Taking hold of his hand, she pulled him up out of his chair, starting to lead the way around his desk and to the door. 

“Wait,” he came to a stop. She watched as he gathered up the pages of Lizzie’s letter. His hand was still clutched firmly in hers, meaning that she was pulled along with him when he went to the fireplace. Kneeling, Tommy started to feed the first page of the letter into the cheerily crackling flames, watching it catch and start to blacken and curl at the edges before tossing it the rest of the way into the inferno. He divided the pages evenly between the two of them, and together they fed page after page of Lizzie’s letter into the fire, watching as the messy scrawl and resentful black words were swallowed up and eradicated completely. 

“Feeling better?” Lucy asked, leaning her head against Tommy's shoulder, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. 

“Yeah,” he kissed her hair, then doused the fire. Taking her hand again, he stood. “Come on.”

They made it back to her room in record time, Tommy practically pouncing on her as soon as the door was shut. Lucy giggled as his mouth crashed down onto hers, cupping both sides of his face while his hands ran all over her. The warmth of his palms burned through her clothes, grabbing at the swell of her hips, then making their way up to squeeze her clothed breasts. Her thighs pressed together as an ache began to build between them. Movements quick, if a little fumbling, she set to work at getting him out of his clothes.  

His chest rumbled under her palms once she’d pushed his button-down off of his shoulders and slid the undershirt over his head, smoothing her hands across his naked skin. He’d been hard at work getting her own clothing unfastened, and it did not take long for her to be entirely bare before him. Arms going around his neck, she let out a rasped moan into their kiss as he palmed one of her breasts with one hand, thumb running over her hardened nipple. 

“Tommy…”

“I know. I know. Come here.”

She hadn’t thought it possible for them to get any closer, and yet somehow he managed, hand on the center of her back pressing her tighter against him, and then he began to walk them with somewhat staggering steps in the general direction of the bed. 

He groaned lowly when her hands slipped lower to cup the growing bulge in his trousers, giving him a soft squeeze that had him bucking into her hand. The backs of her legs knocked against the mattress, and then he was laying her down gently onto it, catching himself with his hands planted on either side of her head as he lowered himself on top of her. 

The groan he released into her mouth as she hitched her legs up around his waist was delicious. She could feel his bulge pressing into her belly, his mouth moving more insistently on hers while his hands roamed her body. A whine left her lips when he pinched one of her nipples, legs tightening around him. He groaned again against her mouth, migrating from her lips to her neck, and she suddenly found herself very annoyed that he was still wearing his trousers.

As he moved to lavish her breasts with his mouth, she ran her fingers calculatingly down his strong back, feeling the shift and flex of his muscles as he moved over her. He was exquisite. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Hands moving lower, she circled her fingers around his belt loops and pulled him closer, giving an impatient yank to his belt buckle for good measure. 

Tommy chuckled, tongue encircling one of her nipples before drawing it into his mouth. She jumped when his hand found its way between her thighs, testing her wetness with two fingers. 

“Impatient,” he tutted at her whimpering and pushing her hips closer to his hand, trying to get his fingers to go deeper inside her. 

“Tease,” she shot back, glaring playfully up at him. The wolfish grin splitting his face only grew, eyes dancing deviously with it. His thumb rolled across her clit, and she made a rather undignified sound, back arching. “Tommy, please.”

“Mm, but what if I want to keep you like this?” he cocked his head in mock contemplation, long lashes fluttering innocently against his cheekbones. “Keep you squirming and begging for me…” he grazed his lips across her cheek and curled his fingers inside her, just brushing up against the spot that had her head tipping back with a soft sigh. “That’s it…” his lips ghosted over her cheek as he leaned in closer, drawing his fingers out, slowly trailing them up and down her folds. Then slowly sinking them back in. At her moan and back arching, he pressed his body closer to hers. “That’s it.”

“You could at least take your trousers off,” she pouted, reaching around to give his clothed ass a squeeze. Her gaze went to the sizable bulge still pressing into her thigh. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?” 

His hips shifted a little, no doubt feeling the tightness of the fabric constraining around his bulging cock. Sneaking her hand between them, Lucy cupped him in her palm, feeling the weight and pulse of his flesh even through the thick material of his clothes. A low grunt left Tommy’s lips, erection pushing into her hand. 

Lucy grinned, but her triumph was short-lived. His fingers retracted from her cunt, both hands seizing hers, pinning them to the mattress by her head.

“Behave,” he growled, with no real weight or threat behind the word. Lucy smirked up at him, turning her hands to instead thread their fingers together, angling her head up to kiss him. 

“No.” Soon as he was distracted by the press of their lips together, she squeezed at his hands, tightened her legs around his waist, and gave a strong twist to her hips. Rolling them so that he was the one with his back to the mattress. “I don’t think that I will,”  she whispered against his mouth, taking his face in both of her hands. 

Tommy’s eyes widened, surprise quickly melting away into delight. She felt where their chests were pressed together as his breath caught, hands going to her waist and lips curling upwards. Showing no complaint at her sudden seizing of the reins, he merely drew her closer, encouraging her to grind down onto him. 

She indulged him for a moment before becoming impatient again, rising off to pull free his belt and push his trousers and shorts off. Tommy obediently lifted his hips to help her, and it wasn’t lost on her how he let out a soft sigh of relief as his cock was freed from the straining material to bob against his stomach. Red and throbbing.   

Wrapping her palm loosely around him, thumb teasing at the weeping tip, she maneuvered herself to kneel between his legs. Tommy propped himself up on his elbows, watching as she eyed her prize where it pulsed in her hand. 

Fixing her gaze squarely on his, she leaned forward, and licked a stripe across the tip. With a groan, Tommy tipped his head back, eyes fluttering closed as she gave just the tip of him a few sucks. His mouth dropped open when she started to take in more of him, breathing deeply through her nose to help relax her throat. 

His groans only encouraged her to keep going as she set to work. Even when he hit the back of her throat and she almost gagged. One of his hands weaved through her hair, resting gently on the back of her head and helping guide her bobs on his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted, erection twitching heavily on her tongue. “Don’t stop. Just like that. Ohhhhh…” a drawn out, delicious sound left his lips at her movements. 

It did not take long for her to start to feel the tension mounting in his thighs, his noises growing louder and more guttural as he neared his peak. Bracing her hands on his thighs, she gave him one last long, hard suck, and then pulled off completely. Tommy made a sharp whining sound, head raising slightly to peer down at her with lust-drunk eyes. Lucy smiled, climbing onto the bed to straddle him again, taking his cock back into her hand. 

Sitting up, he looped an arm around her shoulders, their faces so close that their noses brushed. Tommy’s mouth was open, eyes blown wide. Lucy felt something in her stir at the sight of him so needy. 

“Tell me you want me,” she requested, leaning into him, eyes fluttering when one of his hands flattened out at the center of her back, holding her close. His huge erection twitched in her palm.  

“I want you,” Tommy groaned, her hand tightening around his cock at the same time that he spoke. “I always want you.”  He traced the shape of her bottom lip with his thumb and she closed her eyes, turning her head to kiss his fingertips. Their foreheads came to rest against each other, and she started to guide him inside of her. 

Eyes closing at the stretch of taking him, she gripped at his shoulders, Tommy pressing kisses to her collarbone and thumbs drawing circles into her skin while she got adjusted. Lucy buried her face in his neck. He smelled like a smoky campfire in the middle of the woods at night, warm and welcoming with an edge of danger and melancholy.  

Locking her fingers in his hair, she gently tipped his head back, angling her face down to kiss him softly, and starting to move. Tommy groaned, gripping onto her thigh, fingers pressing into her skin tight enough to probably leave bruises. His eyes gazed into hers, fluttering when she traced over the sharp lines of his jaw.

There was nowhere in the world where she felt safer than in the circle of his arms. There was always such a gentleness to the way that he handled her. A tenderness. Like the mere thought of hurting her was too much for him to bear. 

She had never felt so loved. So cherished. So wanted. Whenever her insecurities started to get the better of her, all it took was this. The joining of their bodies. Their very beings molding together. His hands on her and his eyes looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the entire world. Hips moving in time with hers, slow and deep as they worked together to bring them both to the peak of pleasure. Making love in such a way that it was impossible for her to doubt the existence of his feelings for her. 

“Tommy,” she croaked out, hips still rolling into his, every bounce on his cock sending her nerve endings alight. His arms flexed, helping to support her weight. Their mouths were both open, moaning into the dark air of the bedroom, the bed frame starting to creak under their bodies. Lucy’s walls fluttered and tightened, the familiar warmth of an approaching orgasm building in her lower belly, clit twitching. 

He brushed some hair that had fallen forward out of her face, cupping her cheek gently. A guttural groan left his chest when she took a moment to pause between thrusts just to grind on his cock, her eyes rolling at the pressure that doing so put on her clit. At this angle, his thick tip was pressing into her most sensitive spot. Taking hold of one of his hands, she guided it down until his fingers were at her clit, his digits immediately starting to rub in tight little circles. 

Lucy’s breath stuttered in her lungs, back arching to press her breasts even more firmly against his chest. He growled lowly, thrusting his hips up more sharply into her, pressing down hard onto her clit. She cried out, the band inside her snapping, firelight exploding behind her eyes as she came. 

Tommy caught her in his arms as her muscles gave way, clutching her close with a hand still on her back and the other cupping the back of her head. His hips continued to buck up into her, drawing out her orgasm while he approached his own. Lucy burrowed against him, letting him guide her through her high, gasping softly at the sensation of his cock swelling larger within her. 

Grazing her teeth across his freckled shoulder, she felt more than heard Tommy moan, and then he was leaning back, staring into her face, nuzzling their noses together. He kissed her hard, pumping in one last time, gasping her name out into her mouth as she felt his cock pulse and start to release a heavy load inside of her. 

Cupping his cheeks, she watched his face when he came, grunting softly with pleasure, eyelashes fluttering while he gazed at her. She gave an experimental little bounce on his still emptying cock, earning herself a louder, deeper moan from him. Eyes slipping closed, his hands grabbed at her hips to keep her still.

“Too sensitive,” he mumbled, starting to pepper kisses along her shoulder. Lucy hummed, immediately ceasing all movements to instead just snuggle him. Her arms wound around his neck, stroking his hair, lips finding his cheek.

Slowly, he reclined them both back onto the pillows. Lucy gingerly slipped off of his softening cock, and Tommy drew her in close to his chest, his fingertips starting to trace along her back. The skin was a mess of scars. Yet another gift Luca had given her during the three days she’d spent bound in the basement of a church with him. The cat o’ nine tails he’d whipped her with had done its job well, the pale skin twisted and marred.

She hated looking at it. Hated even thinking about it most of the time. All it did was remind her of those tortuous days. Not to mention made her feel so repulsed at her own reflection she could barely look in the mirror without gagging. 

And yet Tommy’s gentle, adoring touch on them helped soothe some of the disgust she felt towards herself. Despite her best attempts to hide them from him, he’d seen all the scars that covered her body more times that she could count. Never once had he indicated even the slightest revulsion towards them. Under his gaze and hands, she almost was able to feel beautiful.  

“You okay?” His voice interrupted her thoughts, and she wondered if he had been able to sense her getting lost in her own head again.

“Yeah,” she said, getting more comfortable on his chest. Tilting her head up, she looked into his blue eyes, seeming to practically glow in the otherwise darkness of the room. With the passion of desire clearing from her head, thoughts about the future—and their current roster of problems—were making themselves known again. “Tommy, what are we going to do?”

“About Lizzie?”

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I can’t give her what she wants, and I don’t know what else to do to make her happy.”

“Me neither.” Their voices were quiet despite it only being them in the room.

“Maybe if I sit her down and try to explain a couple things to her…” Tommy suggested. 

“What kinds of things?”

“Just…how things are in my head.”

Lucy pushed herself up slightly on her arms to get a better look at him. “You’ve tried to let her in on multiple occasions. She always either ignores you or changes the subject.” It drove Lucy absolutely batty, to have to listen to Lizzie whine and cry about how Tommy ‘never let her in’ when she herself had seen him on multiple occasions try to open up to Lizzie, only for Lizzie to show no interest in what he was actually attempting to communicate to her. It was no wonder that over time he’d more or less given up any attempts at emotionally connecting with her. 

“Yeah,” his chest went up and down with his sigh. Lucy stroked his skin in sympathy, wishing terribly that there was something–anything–that she could do to make it better. 

“I’m sorry.”

His head angled down to look at her, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. The arm around her tightened, bringing her closer so he could kiss her forehead. “You make it all easier, you know.” His lips moved against her skin as he spoke before drawing back to look into her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She felt herself flush, looking bashfully down, busying herself with trailing a hand through his chest hair. “You’d survive.”

“No,” his voice was deadly serious, Her gaze snapped back up to his, eyes wide. “I don’t think that I would.”

Her brows drew in, lips parting, head cocking a little to the side. She reached for him, both hands resting on his cheeks. He leaned into her touch, eyes sliding closed, a hand covering one of hers. “Tommy…”

“It’s alright,” he kissed the center of her palm. 

“I couldn’t survive without you either.”

He gave her a look of deep understanding, kissing her softly on the lips. “C’mere.”

She let him pull her back into snuggling against him, closing her eyes with a soft sigh at how warm and comfy he was. 

There was a sudden change in the weight on the bed, as a tiny little figure hopped up onto the mattress, searching for a warm place to join in the cuddle pile. 

At the sudden, unexpected arrival of the cat, Tommy yelped in a way so unbecoming of one of England’s most feared gangsters that it sent Lucy into a fit of giggles. Trouble meowed, tail flicking back and forth, little paws picking carefully over the comforter towards them. Lucy kept on laughing, pressing a hand to her mouth to try to stifle it as Tommy scrambled to pull the blankets up around them.

“It’s just Trouble, love,” she snickered. 

“Where the hell did she come from!?” 

“She must’ve been hiding under the bed or something.”

He stared at her with wide, horrified eyes. “Do you think she was watching us?”

“Probably.” She raised an eyebrow when Tommy seemed to shrink a little into the pillows. Trouble padded over to her, purring when Lucy started to give her scratches under the chin. “You’re fine with other women watching us fuck, but the cat is where you draw the line?”

He just harrumphed in exasperation, raising a hand to rub down his face.  Lucy rolled her eyes fondly, giving him a kiss in the center of his chest before turning her attention back to their cat.

“Hey, sweetie,” she cooed when Trouble rubbed her head against her palm. She then settled herself against Tommy’s side opposite where Lucy was laying, curling into a tight ball against him with a purr. 

Like mother, like daughter, Lucy thought with a small smile as Tommy dropped his hand to pet Trouble’s back. She let her head rest back onto his chest, stroking over his ribs. 

“She better mind the claws this time,” Tommy muttered, but made no move to push Trouble away. Lucy bit her lip to try to stifle a grin at the memory of Trouble climbing over his bare chest one night to get close to her. She’d woken up to him yelping in complaint of the scratches the cat had left in his chest, Trouble meowing back at him defiantly when he tried to scold her. 

Tommy’s fingertip found the underside of her chin, tilting her head up. 

“Oh, you find this amusing, do you?”

“Mhm.” She pressed her still smiling lips together.

He snorted, shaking his head, unable to fully keep the amusement out of his eyes. “The fucking cheek I get in this house, I swear…”

Laughing, she stretched up to kiss him once more. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Polly was already at the Garrison when Lucy arrived with Tommy and Arthur. Pacing from side to side like an irritable cat, black cigarette clutched between her fingers, she eyed them warily upon their arrival and subsequent movements to go stand by the bar. 

“You armed?” she asked them. At all three of their answers to the affirmative, Polly pursed her lips. Lucy raised an eyebrow at her request that they put their weapons behind the bar in case tempers flared. While Arthur irritably dumped the bullets in his gun out and then tossed the empty weapon onto the table, Lucy looked to Tommy for instruction, ready to follow his lead on whether or not he acquiesced to Polly’s request. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached into his suit jacket and removed his gun from its holster, turning and setting it on the bar behind him. Lucy mimicked his movements, hoisting herself up on her arms to perch on the edge of the bar next to Tommy, reaching behind her to lay her gun down next to his.

She busied herself fishing a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it while Tommy talked to Polly about the dream he’d had of a black cat. Which, according to Polly’s teachings, meant that there was a traitor close by. Polly’s face remained immovable the entire time. She had told them Michael was telling the truth when he said he didn’t betray them, but they would never be able to fully trust Polly when it came to Michael. She might lie to protect him. Or her motherly love for him could cloud her judgment. 

Lucy was living proof that Polly’s perceptions of people weren’t always entirely correct, after all. 

There was the sound of a car approaching outside, and Polly went to the front door to greet her son and his new wife. Tommy’s hand landed on Lucy’s thigh, smoothing up and down, warm even through the thick fabric of her trousers. She scooted a tad closer to him, until her thigh just barely brushed against his shoulder when he was leaning against the bar, sensing that he was in need of the closeness. 

Polly came back in with Michael and Gina right behind her. Lucy took them both in with a careful, analytical eye. 

They looked well. Michael had his hair slicked back, a fine beige coat draped over his suit. His face was the same as it had been the day he left for America, but his eyes were different. Colder. Harder. More guarded. 

His wife, Gina Gray–formally Nelson, Lucy’s hasty research on her had revealed– stood beside him in her expensive furs. Blonde curls were styled carefully around her face, lips pressed in an eternally smug expression. 

Lucy hated her from almost the first moment she laid eyes on her. 

Snobbishness seemed to ooze from her, looking at them as if they were scum on the bottom of her shoe. A smirk danced across her lips, eyeing Tommy up before turning her gaze to Lucy. Her eyebrow raised as she zeroed in on the closeness of Lucy’s thigh to Tommy’s shoulder. Lucy stared back at her challengingly, half daring her to say something. Gina’s eyes met hers unflinchingly. Lucy cocked her head. 

Little girl wants to come play with the gangsters, now does she?

Gina finally broke the silent stare-down, looking back at Tommy. Lucy kept her gaze focused on her for a moment longer, then returned to assessing Michael, who had started talking almost as soon as he and Gina had entered. Lucy wondered if he thought that if he could get a head start on the conversation, then he could control where it went. 

When Tommy ordered Michael to sit down, he ignored him. Lucy’s eyes narrowed to slits at the blatant disrespect.

The boy had forgotten his place.

He should have come in there crawling on his hands and knees, begging them for forgiveness. Already he was extremely lucky to not have been greeted with a razor to his throat upon his arrival in England. 

Instead, he stood there, and told them all about how he had come so close to betraying them, but oh, no, they should be grateful. They should be proud. Because his precious, smug little wife had stopped him. Even though he said it himself that he had already betrayed them in his heart. 

Did he really not understand how significant that already was?

Did the idiot really not see how with every word, with every second that he continued to ignore Tommy’s order that he sit his ass down, he was only digging his own grave deeper?

“I told you to sit down, Michael,” Tommy finally interrupted. It wasn’t quite a snarl, but it was close. He’d clearly taken note of the blatant dismissal of his authority just as she had. 

Michael went quiet. Then reached over to pull out the nearest chair to him at the table Polly had sat down at. But before he sank into it, he looked up at Tommy, and for a brief, sliver of a second, Lucy saw a look flash in his eyes of such ice-cold contempt, it could have given her frostbite.

It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, but she knew that she hadn’t imagined it. She had felt the chill, the instinctive break-out of gooseflesh across her arms. The prickling at the back of her neck. 

Danger was close by. Right in front of them. 

There was an enemy in the room with them. Her gaze flickered briefly to Gina once more. Maybe even more than one. 

The chair creaked, barely audibly, as Michael finally lowered himself into it. Gina leaned against the pillar beside him. 

Tommy spoke slowly, each word carefully plucked, commanding Michael to tell him what happened on the ship in Belfast. 

Lucy’s eyes narrowed as they listened to Michael’s story of how the Billy Boys had boarded the ship he and Gina had been on. They’d been offering a deal, Michael said, to help destroy Tommy. But then the IRA had interrupted them. He failed to elaborate on what happened with the Billy Boys and the IRA before Captain Swing took him captive. 

When Polly tried to prompt Michael into actually saying that he did not deal with the Billy Boys, he gave her no straight answer. Instead he deflected with a weak smile, reaching for Gina’s hand, and announcing that he and Gina had gotten married because Gina was pregnant. 

The whole room filled with stony silence, everyone looking expectantly to Tommy for his verdict.

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay, Michael. I believe you. Welcome home. Congratulations. Just remember…your unborn child has witnessed what you said…”

“Thomas!” Polly exclaimed, horrified.

“And it will be born accordingly.” 

Michael just about launched himself out of his chair was a furious roar, impeded only by Arthur calmly stepping between him and his brother. Polly jumped from her seat. Tommy just blinked calmly, not moving. 

Lucy burst into hysterical, mad-sounding cackles. 

Even as Michael spat vitriol at Tommy from over Arthur’s shoulder, Tommy hardly even batted an eye, merely raising an eyebrow at his cousin. Lucy's unhinged cackles began to subside into quiet giggles. From behind Michael, she saw both Polly and Gina shoot her disturbed, puzzled looked. She just grinned, swaying back and forth delightedly, raising her cigarette to her lips. 

She failed to see what all the fuss was about. If Michael was telling the truth, then he ought to have nothing to worry about.  

The instructions that Tommy gave Michael regarding what he was to do next seemed only fair. He’d lost their company a lot of money. And yet Michael’s look of fury didn’t fade. Entitled cunt. Did he really think that they wouldn’t make him pay them back what he owed them? 

It was Gina who ended up drawing her husband away. Crooning in her harsh American accent, the smug expression that had wavered only briefly at Tommy’s threat back firmly in place. Polly stormed out the door after them, expression hardened when she looked at Tommy before leaving. Arthur locked the door behind them. 

Tommy grabbed his gun from behind the bar, passing Lucy hers so she could tuck it away into her suit jacket. The three of them gathered around the table in the center of the empty pub to debrief, Arthur meticulously sliding the bullets back into the chamber of his revolver while Tommy poured some whiskey. 

“What do we think?” Arthur asked. 

“If anything I’m more suspicious of him than I was when he came in,” Lucy took the glass Tommy offered her. “I don’t like how he deflected with Gina’s pregnancy there at the end.”

“Yeah. He never did answer Polly’s question, did he?” Arthur snorted, shaking his head, gaze going to his younger brother. “Tom?”

“So we’re all in agreement,” Tommy said slowly. “We don’t trust him.”

“So what do we do next?” Arthur asked, fingers pausing where he’d been about to slide the final bullet home in its chamber. 

Tommy cleared his throat, pursing his lips together. His eyes met Lucy��s, and she sighed. 

“Just suspicious words aren’t going to be enough to convince Polly,” she concluded.

“We keep him on a tight leash, for now.”

They all unanimously agreed. Michael would hate every second of it, but they needed to be sure. 

Lucy thought back to the landmines she and Tommy had dug out of the garden, little specks of dirt still wedged in deep under her nails, and shivered.

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[truedarkhunter]

Ciel, the internal struggle (A Deep Dive)

Ciel can be a hard one to get into the headspace of for writing or creating art at times. With some of the details coming to light of how Our Ciel (O!Ciel) is actually the younger of a set of twins and took the name of his older brother the Real Ciel (R!Ciel) gives more insight into his motivations. (I'm just going to refer to the MC as Ciel and his brother as his older brother to make it easier to read.) Ciel's history is dark, as this is a horror anime/manga, even if it has lighthearted moments. It's heavier than Moriarty, The Patriot and probably closer to DeathNote with the 'I monster I became, lest a monster I become' idea. It certainly has the Shinigami/Grim Reapers along with the investigations. Basically: This is your trigger warning that this post is going to be a bit heavy because this character has been through the wringer. If violence and abuse and s.a. are not something you can handle today, this is not the post for you. Please guard your mental health.

Okay! That said, I will try to be gentle with the subject, but it's not my forte.

Also: expect spoilers. This is a deep dive. If you haven't read or watched Black Butler, you may get too much information. By the same token, this is some very specific character stuff so it just might not make sense if you aren't familiar with the segments referenced. I'm going from early childhood and the conditions of the time period forward to where the manga and anime have covered thus far.) Onward! Ciel was born into an affluent family of privilege as an unhealthy younger son. His brother would have been set to inherit everything. The author, Yana Toboso, really strongly leaned in on the "heir and spare" idea, but seemed to overplay it with the 'why were you even born aspect'. The answer is right in the line heir and SPARE. With the setting, about 2 out of every 5 children died before the age of five in the 1800's as it was a time before vaccines. It is surprising that the family didn't have more children rather than it had two.

So expect that Ciel and his older brother had friends in their circle or heard from adults talking that some of the children they knew passed away before the inciting incident (the moment that started the story arc of the series) began. The Victorian Era is chock-full of examples of death being a regular part of the culture. This is important as it shapes what is 'normal' for Ciel.

Children that made it past the childhood diseases stage usually lived a long time, that would be particularly true of the upper class who had both regular meals, shelter, heat, and adequate clothing. The upper class was also able to have their houses cleaned regularly by staff and their linens bleached which killed off illnesses. (This is part of why 'white bedsheets' and 'white linens' are popular during this period and into the early 1900's. Dyed cloth would be ruined by bleach so such items were just kept white. White showed any stain, so having everything perfectly white meant they were either frequently replaced or scrupulously maintained. The wearing of white gloves meant you didn't get your hands dirty or could afford to replace/strongly clean them on the regular. (That or you were very, very cautious.) White was associated with purity which was associated with godliness. Those aspects show up in the series as well.

From the very title "Black Butler" to the red dress Ciel pulls out to adorn his aunt in, to the lilies Undertaker is seen with meaning "innocent" it's woven into the story. Ciel is also used to strong color in clothing. It was fashionable to change outfits at different times of the day. This showed off your wealth, as well as adjusted for changes in temperature/social situations. True blues, bright reds, and such were difficult to get, and so were very costly. Many dyes were not color-fast and used dangerous reagents to to make them.

That mourning black that you were expected to wear? You called out a tailor to your home and had the family sized for it and didn't go outside until you had the mourning clothing. What was in it? Arsenic. People who had that against their skin and sweated or got it wet could get arsenic poisoning and perish themselves! That saying "Don't cry your eyes out"? If someone mourned too heavily and got their veil wet could go blind from it! So changing clothing to avoid the dyes tainting your skin was also a good idea. Ciel likely had an occasion or two where playing around puddles got him and his brother in trouble because the dyes got on their skin and would take days to get back to normal. Likewise, some of the harsh chemicals, including the bleach, may have aggravated the main character's asthma. Those periodic episodes may have come right after the linens returned and were still strongly scented of the bleach used to clean them. Alternatively, the rainy/damp weather may have drawn out the arsenic in the Scheele's Green wallpaper at some of the homes they visited (made with arsenic again!).

This wallpaper and the stench of the waste dumped in the street and into the River Thames is why "The Season" existed. It came to be noticed that people felt ill when they were indoors (around the arsenic wallpaper) and did better outside in the (relatively) fresh air. So it became common to go out to the country during the warmer months for healthful constitutionals. It also got people away from the stench of the city. (Look up The Great Stink of 1858 in England. Ciel's parents would have experienced it.) Between that and the recommendation of the doctors of the time, Rachel and Vincent would have taken to bringing the children out to the country more.

Quite possibly, his parents originally lived in London more and then went to their mansion estate to stay after their children were born because of Ciel's health problems. Even so, his parents still entertained, as seen during the Noah's Ark Circus/Book of Circus arc. Vincent was still keeping his eye on the underworld for Queen Victoria. As such, he had more than social obligation, but a required need to interact frequently with the people in society in order to feel them out to determine which rumors were true and which were false.

To that end, we can expect that Ciel's father was eloquent and charming. We see him being a tender father and a dedicated, caring husband. He also had a flip side that had to handle taking out the threats to the Queen and he couldn't be squeamish about it. Because of that, the hunting trips with his sister were likely important to him. He could dress a deer or hide a body. Hunting as a sport was a great way to arrange an 'accident'. His sister, who is as good with a gun as a sword, shows an uptight demeanor around Ciel. Some of that is likely that she always worried about her brother and now worries about Ciel. Hence her wanting them to be perfect in both appearance and action. The job of the Queen's Guard Dog allowed no room for error. She may also harbor suspicions of Ciel's actual identity, hence the "fix your hair"! The ill younger brother may not have had to be meticulously groomed all the time, but the elder likely did. Moreover, having a slovenly appearance could lead to rumors of him being an imposter or just unfit for the role and he can't afford that. Rumors could kill.

The boys had undeniably heard about their family line holding this important position. There would be gentle explanations and some success stories or funny ones, then the untold part of why their grandparents were no longer around when other kids still had theirs. Ciel had some idea beforehand of what this life was like, but not the reality of it.

One of the holdovers from his grandparents time is the Undertaker. He was a friend to his grandmother Cloudia, and since she married the Queen's Guard Dog, he likely used his ability to read the records of the dead to aid them...although he then found tangible things like notes in pockets or inquiring in town to the right people. That he knew where to look for that piece of paper or which people to talk to would be considered a "knack". The brothers would also have known the members of Dad's secret club, the Aristocrats of Evil (or Villainous Nobles) as little gets past the eyes of children.

He had his circle of informants that he relied upon, as that was exactly who they were. The current iteration has Chlaus, Diedrich, Undertaker, Lau, Angelina Dalles (his aunt, deceased), Azzuro Vanel (deceased), Pitt, an Unidentified woman, and Unidentified man with a scarred left eye. (See: Kuroshitsuji fandom wiki, Aristocrats of Evil)

Chlaus, Diedrich, Lau, and Azzuro handled external/international threats. Lau and Azzuro are particularly about Chinese and Italian Mafia and the drugs and other contraband such groups were trying to bring into England. Undertaker was the only place to get aid with funerals and a little with medical advice and surgeries (I suspect). He handled news from the less affluent quarters and listened in the corners at funerals as they were big events and people talked. The truth could come out of what a person was really like and these occasions were as important as weddings for networking. Knowing who was arranging meetings with whom could prove important later.

He also had insight into supernatural goings on, however he may or may not have relayed it. Angelina Dalles, aka Madame Red, ran in the social circles of the aristocrats and heard all the latest gossip. Those leads, and her information from being a medical practitioner could allow the Queen's Guard Dog to know who was up to what and then have the medical reports to back up claims if someone got injured suspiciously. Pitt is a paparazzi before that title got popular. People love sensational stories and he would get them or pictures for the paper who ran them. Unlike Diedrich, Undertaker, or Angelina, he has no deeper ties of loyalty to the family and is purely there for the money.

This circle is whom Ciel inherits and it almost immediately begins breaking down. The loyalty to his father did not simply translate to him in all cases. Life also moved on and people change. Hence the attempted kidnapping by Azzuro and the discovery of Madame Red's dark activities on the side. Some are overly attached, such as Undertaker, and the tale is taking some wild turns because of it. That there are multiple supernatural beings having a hand in his life (Undertaker, Sebastian, Grelle), some arcs do not resolve naturally (such as the potential redemption of his aunt at the end of the Red Reaper arc) while his continued existence is itself due to supernatural intervention (the butler).

This causes him to rely more and more on his butler, which is exactly how Sebastian desires it. It is also why when Soma and Agni appear on the scene it is such a consternation for his butler. Soma claims friendship, regardless of how Ciel tries to distance himself, and has the social status to ignore Ciel's attitudes. Likewise, Agni shows himself not only a potent peer to Sebastian, but skilled at organizing others so that their talents shine. (The servants competently preparing things in the kitchen together in the anime under Agni's supervision in contrast to their incompetence being resolved solely by Sebastian in the first episode and at the picnic later with Lizzy.) The selfishness of the demon and his pride made him want to show off his skills and talents. Growing the skills of the others doesn't come naturally to him, nor is it desirable as it would diminish the young master's reliance upon him. That shock is very real and a moment of growth in the butler, but goes a little under the radar for Ciel. The young master was likely just grateful things were quiet for an afternoon among his servants.

Ciel not only needed to step into his brother's shoes, he had to start handling the accounts for the estate. Which begs the question:

Why Ciel?

(Informational) He may have overheard the kidnappers describing the requirements for making a pact with a demon if one showed up. If he somehow had the presence of mind, he may have given the false name to the demon in hopes of getting out of the pact later if he decided he didn't like what was going to happen.

(Coldly Rational) He may have known that there would be other claimants for his family's position and he could lose his position and possibly fall into the hands of the person who betrayed them if he came back as his true named self. As Ciel, even being young, he would be the strongest claimant for the position and it would allow him to investigate who did this to his family.

(Romantic Notion) He could have taken it simply to keep some part of his beloved twin alive. It would be the only memorial he could have for him. This was a difficult thing for him to pull off even as close as he was as it seems his brother was more extroverted and probably tougher and sassier. It's one thing to look like his brother; it's another to consistently pass as his brother. Hence how Lizzy felt so horrible that she had missed it or glossed over the signs once the older brother made his appearance. Falling ill from his asthma would have been a dead giveaway to those closest to him, hence he didn't disclose it even to his butler. Yet his life and plan relied upon it.

Another part of Ciel's life now revolved around social interaction. He not only had to do the books, but he had to tour the lands and talk to the people who worked it for him and provided his living. This is something his brother would have been getting introduced to, but he may not have. In the anime, the butler helps facilitate it just as he handled it up until that point. Having Sebastian provide the names and backgrounds before they arrived and appraising Ciel of what their needs were would help Ciel to ingratiate himself in his father's place. That he actually addresses their concerns and insures things run smoothly at that level even if it costs him some of his funds, solidified the worker's support.

I suppose we must now address what happened that launched the Black Butler story. While the boys would have been sheltered, the trips to their other holdings would have exposed them to some of what life was like in the rest of England and particularly London.

They would see people being homeless in the street, hear about the long hours for the working class where their bosses wouldn't let them have rest breaks off their feet, causing them to have health issues. People losing body parts from industrial accidents, getting illnesses that weren't treatable or were given quack treatments, these were all common in his world. They'd hear some of it from their aunt interspersed with boring gossip as well as their friends and family's attitudes towards the other classes. There were the realities in the world he and his brother were getting introduced to as they reached double digits and were starting to get taken around to learn how to govern their lands.

Somewhere amongst those friends and relatives was someone who planned to overthrow their father. The manga has a meeting between Vincent and Diedrich where the twins are present where it seems like Vincent may have an inkling that something risky is coming up. That or they just finished something that made Vincent concerned for the future as he asks Diedrich to give his allegiance and support to his son should something happen to him. Likewise, the anime showed that Vincent knew his fate was coming to meet him and he couldn't avoid it. However, he didn't expect for his children to be caught up in it, nor likely his wife. Speculation: It may be that when the Queen's Guard Dog becomes too well-known, they aren't as effective. Alternatively, there may be a set term limit to insure there is no question of loyalty from corruption or bribery. That would allow he family to continue to pass down the responsibility each generation, yet explain why they wind up having shortened lifespans. (Not that the job is oh-so-safe in the first place!)

There is evidence that the older brother knew the people who did it and was likely duped into letting them into the house or giving up information that would allow them to infiltrate. It is unlikely that he was actively attempting to take over. Given his age and skill level, he wouldn't be ready to take over for his father. It could be a Lion King sort of moment, as Yana has drawn from Hamlet for this tale as well, but if so then it would have been to convince the heir that they would like to be the Earl sooner. Wouldn't it be fun?

It would be interesting if one of the people involved planned to manipulate the heir, while those under him had a different idea since they suffered under the Watch Dog and figured getting rid of the family entirely and selling off the kids would be more effective. Either way, our Ciel knows that his brother knew something about their attackers.

They were sold in the underground, quite likely by the Viscount of Druitt himself or an underling. It appeared to be a very upper-class group involved. The images showed rather well-dressed people and Undertaker was caught off-guard by event and had trouble retrieving the twins during that month. Upper class in this case may also involve angels, which would truncate Undertaker's ability to act which may be why he didn't get the older brother back until he had passed. Alternatively, he only got it back when the crime scene was discovered and so had whatever hours the child had been dead to deal with in reanimating him. Yet if the site was burned, it implies he was nearby and able to swoop in as soon as it fell into the grey area that Grim Reapers operate in. Whether or not we will get to see angels has yet to be determined in the manga although the first season of the anime had them. While much of the anime is not cannon, Yana clearly had themes she relayed that she is running with. It would feel a bit incomplete to have the black and the grey without the white for this canvas. What we do have is a play on the spiritual movement and esoteric fascination of the time.

France was profiting on this by selling books said to be "meant for church use" in the introduction which allowed them to hock ones listing supposed demons. Many of them were barely altered names of gods among other things. Such books were considered restricted items normally just as sexually explicit pieces were. Hence the use of the 'for church use' tag to slip it past the censors. These were displayed in secretive collections as Victorians wanted to be 'in the know'. (So just because a source is old doesn't mean it's reputable. People trying to scam others have always existed.) However, this means people were attempting to discover the secrets beyond the Veil. The bored rich had the time and resources to try and summon the demons listed.

One particularly decadent group in the Black Butler setting turned to performing the most perverse rites, harming children bought through Druitt or some other seller. To these people the twin Phantomhive children went. The group spent a month turning them from pure and innocent into terribly shocked, ill, abused children all to try to summon a demon. At the end, they sacrificed one of the pair and it worked. Unbeknownst to them, a sacrifice had to be something that had meaning and closeness to you. Hence the demon went to Ciel. His brother's soul acted as the price for passage. He also had the strongest emotions and desire in the place, a desire for revenge.

During it all, the pair relied on each other for strength and purpose. They kept swallowing their father's signet ring and digging through the dung later to retrieve it and swallow it again so that it wouldn't be taken from them and they could prove whom they were once they escaped. That support is likely what kept them from breaking utterly as with the other children. It was clear they weren't given enough food, and were force fed to keep them alive, and their fine clothes were worn down to or replaced with rags. They were getting close to passing from the neglect. That was when the group pulled one of them from the cage at random. They didn't know they took the eldest, and that was important for the younger brother in order to assume the eldest's identity. With the loss of his brother, Ciel's anger outweighed his despair in that moment and brought the demon to his side. He had nothing left to lose in his mind, so he made the pact. Then his first order was to kill all those present and to burn the place to the ground.

While this would seem to make sense, who wouldn't want to destroy everything after such an event? It also feeds into his mindset after all he went through. Ciel wants oblivion. Had it been him on the altar, he probably would have felt relief and just given up. However, with duty pressed so hard on him and the loss of his brother, he felt compelled to live through the moment. However, once he has satisfied his need to know who did this to his family and exact his revenge, he wants not to die, but to no longer be. Oblivion.

In the first season anime, he showed that he intended to keep his part of the Faustian pact. Interestingly, while he didn't want to continue, he asked that Sebastian not make an effort to be gentle as he wanted the pain of it to be engraven upon his soul as proof that he had a life that was worth living. In that iteration, the butler simply replied, "Indeed, my young lord."

With all he had been through, Ciel would not believe himself able to come back from that damage. There is evidence of this. We get to see him suffering nightmares for months on end as the butler stays by his side and protects him. Likewise, when he faces other children being put through what he faced in a recreation of the rite, he has the butler burn the place down just as he did before. He intimates that no one that has gone through such things is really there anymore. Since he doesn't ask the other children if they want to live, he is answering based on his own experience and mindset - they are walking dead to him. Because of how he treats them, you can see how he feels about himself. He's going through the motions, but he feels he's already dead inside but for duty and revenge.

Given how little mental health care existed at the time, there isn't much reason or chance for him to recover. The Queen certainly has him hopping right away and the breakneck pace of a case every two weeks to a month doesn't allow Ciel much time to sort himself.

One of the best aids for his mindset is the presence of Lizzy. Because she is a callback to the good days of his childhood, and because of his responsibility to her as a fiancé in place of his brother, he pulls upon older memories and reactions. While dusty, they are still there. He indulges her, partially to hide whom he really is, and partially as he knows he can never fulfill her dream and be her husband. It is unlikely that he can view he games of man and maid in any wholesome light after all he had been through. For this reason, I cannot see Ciel honestly being paired with anyone.

It could be he could grow over time and find some form of happiness. Yana drew a 'what if' piece for Ciel if he had stayed on at the circus with Doll. So that if the conditions were right, he might find some level of safety and comfort could have maybe been possible, but given this is a horror anime with a Faustian pact, it isn't meant to be. Moreover, since he is fully aware of his deal, Ciel knows he must stick to his bargain or forfeit his life early. He doesn't dare express too much affection, even if he feels some amount of it, lest he trigger some nullification clause that takes him out before his revenge is complete. We see this in the Green/Emerald Witch arc where Ciel has to recover from his brush with a a dangerous chemical and winds up being too afraid for a while to continue his hunt. At that point, Sebastian goes in to eat him and gets rebuffed. When Ciel asks if he were actually going to do it, Sebastian replies he was only 90% serious. So yes, Ciel has parameters set to continue to have the services of his butler. That also means he can't necessarily take time to heal.

In the anime, Sebastian describes the experiences and emotions Ciel has gone through as a sort of seasoning to his soul. Since he wants his master to be at some desired flavor combinations of emotions, it is unlikely that he would tolerate changes that would undo something the demon considered beneficial towards his later repast.

That is another reason it can be hard to get into Ciel's head as some of what he does is driven by the butler's requirements rather than his own. Ciel does state what he wants to achieve. What he has to go through to get it is not necessarily what Ciel bargained for, somewhat literally.

Another side of Ciel is the further loss of people close to him. Those who should have been on his side, protecting him, became mortal enemies. This was especially true of his own aunt, Angelina Dalles. As I mentioned above, she appeared to be about to repent and possibly reconcile with Ciel when her life was ended by the Grim Reaper/Shinigami she had befriended and run with. Seeing her true motivations and thoughts in her cinematic record, Grelle Sutcliff declared her "unworthy of the color red" and claimed her jacket.

Now it could be that the shock of the events cause Ciel to forget meeting the Grim Reaper, or it could be that once away from such supernatural beings, the events tend to grow fuzzy and slip out of mind. People don't tend to handle such well. Add in the other things Ciel has been through and it isn't surprising that he might throw it all in a box in the back of the attic of his mind and label it as "do not open".

At his aunt's funeral, Ciel went against all custom at the time and ignored the idea that dressing her in white. Dressing someone in white was to prepare them for their arrival in Heaven. Instead he says she always looked best in flaming red and presents her with her own red dress. Whether this is a desire to throw away the pretense and embrace the person she really was or a revelation of her sinful nature and death at her funeral is up to debate. He didn't accuse her for he doesn't see himself as better than her. His hands are just as covered in blood. However, he chose to honor her passing as a family member that he once cared for and shed tears for her although Lizzy shed more for both of them. That loss left Ciel a little colder, more isolated, and more cynical than before.

Certainly it is easier for Ciel to escape dealing with his traumas by keeping busy and moving forward towards his ultimate goal. Yet that feels a little false. People can't run from their experiences forever. When they get overtired or overtaxed those things will come out. Likewise, trauma revisits when people do start to heal. The brain says "you're in a better place, let's process things!" So in some sense, the Green Witch arc forced him to process some of the horrors he's seen before facing more. Likewise, his trust in his other servants, particularly Finny, increases during those trials. Much of Ciel's outlook towards other people is cynical and utterly untrusting. He doesn't believe in goodness anymore or God. If people are being nice, they must be hiding other motives in his book. That's why he thinks he can be transactional with someone like Abberline and can't quite process that maybe there really are people, outside of the ones from his past like Lizzy, that are actually as good as they appear.

With the Campania/Book of the Atlantic arc, Ciel has to face his feelings towards Lizzy. There are hints of him heading towards puberty as he starts feeling more awkward around her, but doesn't know what to do with those emotions. Then he gets to find out how capable she really is and how she can protect him as much as he desired to protect her.

Protective is the primary feeling he has towards Lizzy. She is that last strong link to his past that is positive. For that reason, he's willing to do a great deal to protect her body and her feelings. That doesn't mean he's always good at it or that he's tolerant of all her actions, he's still a young boy just growing into his teens himself, but he tries hard to master his own emotions and find the words needed to be gracious to her when all is said and done. He also knows he can do nothing but let her down ultimately, so he's doing his best to do so gently that she might keep the better memories of him when he's no longer there.

By the Public School arc, Ciel has become better at hiding his true self and being ruthless in his pursuit and smooth with his lies. He learned to paste on a fake smile in the circus and has butted heads with enough adults that he has a good idea of how people work. He's not used to dealing with peers and so underestimates them just as adults underestimate him...with similar results. By the end, he has achieved a level of competence that can carry him towards his final goal.

When we arrive at the Blue Sect arc and beyond, those skills and resolve get challenged as he faces his older brother and is driven from his home and all his resources. This echoes the anime where London is burning and he is forced out and loses access to his butler for a time. His situation and limitations physically are made clear as he can hardly dress himself without help. If the manga keeps going with the theme, Ciel may have to sell off or lose the few things he's held onto such as the family signet ring and the Phantomhive cursed blue ring. This is sort of a call back to the preparation for death. A version of "you can't take it with you" where Ciel must determine what is still important as things disintegrate around him. He can't hold on to relationships nor items, nor is he supposed to. Only he can decide in the end, from a detached point of view, if his life and efforts are worth having lived at all. So we will see how the manga finishes out. This was quite a long and rambling piece that took me all day to complete. Hopefully it will give you, the reader, some insight on Ciel's inner thoughts as well as what shaped him growing up so you can read deeper into his past and story and possibly write him better or a little easier. He's troubled, secretive, and secretly still caring and trying to do what he thinks is right to a degree, while denying that he still holds any such notions dear to his heart anymore. He lies, manipulates, and lies to himself as well, but he still moves forward and embraces his mistakes and learns from them. He has no veil in front of his eyes, and hopes for nothing in his future as he attempts to fulfill a single set of goals/wishes. That's Ciel Phantomhive at this point in time. Whether he is purely mortal, some strange blend of immortal and mortal, or simply a version of Hamlet, he stands in as the wounded character faced with a tragic story that he can't stop, but he can chose how he goes out for that final bow. Let me know if you agree or disagree or see him in a different light.

[paintpanic]

Res AU Joronia drawings. Character rambling and bonus doodles under cut.

This AU takes place a good while after the events of Triple Deluxe happened. Since then, Taranza's mostly recovered mentally from everything. He was able to move on from his grief and (somewhat) forgive himself. Now that Joronia's in his life again, seemingly back to her former self, some of those wounds he'd thought were fully healed have started to ache again. He still feels ultimately guilty for what happened to her.

He's thrilled that Joronia's been given a second chance at life, but is somewhat wary deep down. This feels to good to be true, that she's just back with seemingly no strings attached. The other shoe could drop any day now, and he could lose her all over again. Fearing this, he wants to make the most out of what could be a short time to be together again with his friend.

Joronia senses that there's a distance between the two of them now that wasn't there before. It shouldn't be surprising; he's probably still hurt from what she did. Other people definitely are. She's determined, though, to work hard to make it up to everyone she's hurt, and to prove to them (and herself) that she's not really like that, that she's capable of being better.

The Mirror's influence twisted her mind and her perception of reality. It made her feel like she was inadequate, and that everyone else were enemies to be subjugated. Now, she's supposed to be normal and better, but she still feels like there's something wrong with her head. She still doesn't feel good enough, and it still feels like everyone hates her. It's hard to trust herself. She's not sure if it's some lingering effect of the Mirror, or if there's just something inherently wrong with her now. She's scared.

She's afraid that something will happen, that she'll revert to how she was as Queen, and that she'll hurt Taranza again. Someone who'd always helped her, who'd stuck with her even when she was absolutely horrible to him, and who's kindness she's relying on again now, staying at his home as she worked on getting her life back together. She's a burden on him, and she always has been. She hates it.

Still, her deepest, most selfish wish is that they could be real friends again.

---

These two need to have a long, honest discussion about their feelings toward each other and themselves. Both of them are absolutely terrified about that prospect, though, because they each think that the other secretly resents them to some degree. If they actually talked through it, they'd quickly realize that they both want the same thing.

[sysig]

DAX is just so expressive ♥ (Patreon)

[yusuke-of-valla]

Some days I wish more people actually played Pokemon for the plot so there's incentive to improve on the plot's weak points

[wet-toast-slime]

in regards to my unpopular opinion about pokemon does not own the monster collecting genre, and how not every monster collecting game is a pokemon clone--

if you want to talk about pokemon clones just look at palworld's plagiarism problem

[crownconstellation]

forgot how suffering it is to have ur favourite character in smth involved in a very popular pairing you Do Not Like that is 1. everywhere in their tag and 2. not tagged correctly a lot so you can't even flag it