#100 baby warehouse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rinhaler · 1 year ago

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DEATH IS NO MORE !

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k

As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.

You shouldn’t be here.

The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.

Is there a dress code?

That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.

The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.

You just couldn’t resist, this.

Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.

With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.

You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.

$100 for a ticket.

“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.

You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.

There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.

You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.

Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.

“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”

“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.

More like a warning.

“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.

You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.

The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.

There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.

Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.

And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.

A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.

The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.

As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.

But you scream.

Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.

Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.

Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.

There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.

He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.

“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.

“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.

It’s suffocating.

He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.

“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.

If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.

A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.

“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”

He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.

A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.

He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.

As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.

But you can’t.

Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.

“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.

“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.

“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.

He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.

You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.

He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.

“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”

“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.

“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.

He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.

Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.

“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”

“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”

“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”

“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.

“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”

“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.

But—

“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.

“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”

“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.

He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.

It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.

But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.

“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”

“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”

“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn’t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”

“That’s not—”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”

“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”

And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.

You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.

His arms almost cage you in.

Almost.

He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.

But you aren’t trying.

You’re just staring into his eye.

And he likes that.

“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”

“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.

“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.

He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.

You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.

Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.

“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.

Decide?

You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.

“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.

“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.

“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”

“You said you’ll win.”

He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.

“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”

“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”

“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”

“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.

You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.

But he does.

The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.

“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”

And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.

He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.

You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.

“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.

“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.

“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.

You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.

A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.

It’s art, here.

Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.

It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.

You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.

But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.

Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.

And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.

You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.

He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.

This fight… it was on a whim.

Was it just to impress you?

He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.

And why…

Why are you loving this?

You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.

If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.

Watch him forever.

You’re sick.

This is sick.

“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.

Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”

“D… Don—”

“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.

Oh, he’s been paid.

He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.

It’s his height, you realise.

It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.

“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”

“No.”

“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.

His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?

“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”

“N-No.”

“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”

You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.

“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.

“That’s none of your—”

“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.

Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.

Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.

He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.

“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”

“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.

“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”

The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.

A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.

“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.

He doesn’t respect you, though.

Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.

“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.

“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.

He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.

“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.

“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.

No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.

They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.

And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.

He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.

“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.

And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.

“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”

“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.

He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.

“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”

“Wha—?”

“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”

You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.

“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.

But he doesn’t pull anything out.

Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.

Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.

His money.

And it’s everywhere.

You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.

“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.

And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.

The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.

“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.

He's yours.

“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.

But you don’t care.

You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.

“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you’d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”

“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Yes what?” he repeats.

“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”

“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”

“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.

“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”

Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.

But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.

“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”

Fuck, Megumi.

You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.

“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”

“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”

You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.

“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”

“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.

He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.

He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.

“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.

He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.

“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.

“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.

“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”

You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”

“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.

You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.

Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.

You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.

“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.

He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.

The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.

“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.

“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.

Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.

You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.

“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.

“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.

“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.

You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.

So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.

“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”

“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”

“Obviously not, Megumi.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”

“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”

“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.

“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”

“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.

Just like the fighting.

And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.

“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.

“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”

“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.

You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.

“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.

“… love you too… bitch.”

m.list | chapter two

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mostlysignssomeportents · 17 days ago

Text

Battery rationality

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/06/shoenabombers/#paging-dick-cheney

After 9/11, we were told that "no cost was too high" when it came to fighting terrorism, and indeed, the US did blow trillions on forever wars and regime change projects and black sites and kidnappings and dronings and gulags that were supposed to end terrorism.

Back in the imperial core, we all got to play the home edition of the "no price is too high" War on Terror game. New, extremely invasive airport security measures were instituted. A "no-fly" list as thick as a phone book, assembled in secret, without any due process or right of appeal, was produced and distributed to airlines, and suddenly, random babies and sitting US Senators couldn't get on airplanes anymore, because they were simultaneously too dangerous to fly and also not guilty enough to charge with any crime:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/20/damn-the-shrub/#no-nofly

We lost our multitools, our knitting needles, our medical equipment, all in the name of keeping another boxcutter rebellion from rushing the cockpit. As security expert Bruce Schneier repeatedly pointed out back then, the presence of (for example) glass bottles on the drinks trolley meant that would-be terrorists could trivially avail themselves of an improvised edged weapon that was every bit as deadly as 9/11's box cutters.

According to Schneier, there were exactly two meaningful security measures taken in those days: reinforcing cockpit doors, and teaching basic self-defense to flight crews. Everything else was "security theater," a term coined to describe the entire business, from TSA confiscations to warehouses full of useless "chemical sniffer" booths that were supposed to smell out bombs on our person:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2010/01/airport-scanner-scam/

Security theater isn't just about deploying measures that don't work – it's also about defending yourself against risks that don't exist. You know how this goes: in 2001, Richard Reid – AKA "The Shoenabomber" – tried to blow up a plane with explosives he'd hidden in his shoes. It didn't work, because it's a stupid idea – and then we all took off our shoes for a quarter-century:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Reid

In 2006, a gang of amateur chemists hatched a plan to synthesize explosives in an airplane toilet sink, scheming to smuggle in different reagents and precursors in their carry-on luggage, then making a bomb in the sky and taking down the plane and all its passengers. The "Hair Gel Bombers" were caught before the could try their scheme, but even if they had made it onto the plane, they would have failed. Their liquid explosive recipe started with mixing up a "piranha bath" – a mixture of sulfuric acid and hydrogen peroxide – that needs to be kept extremely cold for a long time, or it will turn into instantly lethal gas. If the liquid bomb plot had gone ahead, the near-certain outcome would have been the eventual discovery of an asphyxiated terrorist in the bathroom, lips blue and lungs burned away, face down in a shallow sink filled with melting ice-cubes:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2006_transatlantic_aircraft_plot

The fact that these guys failed utterly didn't have any impact on the dramaturges who ran the world's security theater. We're still having our liquids taken away at airport checkpoints.

Why did we have to defend ourselves against imaginary attacks that had been proven not to work? Because "no price was too high to pay" in the War on Terror. As Schneier pointed out, this was obvious nonsense: there is a 100% effective, foolproof way to prevent all attacks on civilian aircraft. All we need to do is institute a 100% ban on air travel. We didn't do that, because "no price is too high to pay" was always bullshit. Some prices are obviously too high to pay.

Which is why we still get to keep our underwear on, even after Umar Farouk "Underwear Bomber" Abdulmutallab's failed 2009 attempt to blow up an airplane with a bomb he'd hidden in his Y-fronts:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umar_Farouk_Abdulmutallab

It's why we aren't all getting a digital rectal exam every time we fly, despite the fact that hiding a bomb up your ass actually works, as proven by Abdullah "Asshole Bomber" al-Asiri, who blew his torso off with a rectally inserted bomb in 2009 in a bid to kill a Saudi official:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abdullah_al-Asiri

Apparently, giving every flier a date with Doctor Jellyfinger is too high a price to pay for aviation safety, too.

Now, theatrical productions can have very long runs (The Mousetrap ran in London for 70 years!), but eventually the curtain rings down on every stage. It's possible we're present for the closing performance of security theater.

On September 17, the Israeli military assassinated 12 people in Lebanon and wounded 2,800 more by blowing up their pagers and two-way radios whose batteries had been gimmicked with pouches of PETN, a powerful explosive. This is a devastating attack, because we carry a ton of battery-equipped gadgets around with us, and most of them are networked and filled with programmable electronics, so they can be detonated based on a variety of circumstances – physical location, a specific time, or a remote signal.

What's more, PETN-gimmicked batteries are super easy to make and effectively impossible to detect. In a breakdown published a few days after the attack, legendary hardware hacker Andrew "bunnie" Huang described the hellmouth that had just been opened:

https://www.bunniestudios.com/blog/2024/turning-everyday-gadgets-into-bombs-is-a-bad-idea/

The battery in your phone, your laptop, your tablet, and your power-bank is a "lithium pouch battery." These are manufactured all over the world, and you don't need a large or sophisticated factory to make one. It would be effectively impossible to control the manufacture of these batteries. You can make batteries in "R&D quantities" for about $50,000. Alibaba will sell you a full, turnkey "pouch cell assembly line" for about $10,000. More reputable vendors want as little as $15,000.

A pouch cell is composed of layers of "cathode and anode foils between a polymer separator that is folded many times." After a machine does all this folding, the battery is laminated into a pouch made of aluminum foil, which is then cleaned up, labeled, and flushed into the global supply chain.

To make a battery bomb, you mix PETN "with binders to create a screen-printed sheet" that's folded and inserted into the battery, in such a way as to produce a shaped charge that "concentrat[es] the shock wave in an area, effectively turning the case around the device into a small fragmentation grenade."

Doing so will reduce the capacity of the battery by about 10% or less, which is within the normal variations we see in batteries. If you're worried about getting caught by someone who's measuring battery capacity, you can add an extra explosive sheet to the battery's interior, increasing the thickness of a 10-sheet battery by 10%, which is within the tolerance for normal swelling.

Once the explosive is laminated inside its (carefully cleaned) aluminum pouch, there's no way to detect the chemical signature of the PETN. The pouch seals that all in. The PETN and other components of the battery are too similar to one another to be detected with X-ray fluorescence, and the multi-layer construction of a battery also foils attempts to peer inside it with Spatially Offset Raman Spectroscopy.

According to bunnie, there are no ways to detect a battery bomb through visual inspection, surface analysis or X-rays. You can't spot it by measuring capacity or impedance with electromechanical impedance spectroscopy. You could spot it with a high-end CT scan – a half-million dollar machine that takes about 30 minutes for each scan. You might be able to spot it with ultrasound.

Lithium batteries have "protection circuit modules" – a small circuit board with a chip that helps with the orderly functioning of the battery. To use one of these to detonate a PETN-equipped battery, you'd only have to make a small, board-level rewiring, which could deliver a charge via a "third wire" – the NTC temperature sensor that's standard in batteries.

Bunnie gets into a lot more detail in his post. It's frankly terrifying, because it's hard to read this without concluding that, indeed, any battery in any gadget could actually be a powerful, undetectable bomb. What's more, supply chain security sucks and bunnie runs down several ways you could get these batteries into your target's gadget. These range from the nefarious to the brute simple: "buy a bunch of items from Amazon, swap out the batteries, restore the packaging and seals, and return the goods to the warehouse."

Bunnie's point is that, having shown the world that battery bombs are possible, the Israelis have opened the hellmouth. They were the first ones to do this, but they won't be the last. We need to figure out something before "the front line of every conflict [is brought] into your pocket, purse or home."

All of that is scary af, sure, but note what hasn't happened in the wake of an extremely successful, nearly impossible to defeat explosives attack that used small electronics of the same genus as the pocket rectangles virtually every air traveler boards a plane with. We've had no new security protocols instituted since September 17, likely because no one can think of anything that would work.

Now, in the heady days when the security theater was selling out every performance and we were all standing in two-hour lines to take our shoes off, none of this would have mattered. The TSA's motto of "when in trouble, or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout" would have come to the fore. We'd be forced to insert our phones into some grifter's nonfunctional billion-dollar PETN dowsing-box, or TSA agents would be ordering us to turn on our phones and successfully play eleven rounds of Snake, or we'd be forced to lick our phones to prove that they weren't covered in poison.

But today, we're keeping calm and carrying on. The fact that something awful exists is, well, awful, but if we don't know what to do about it, there's no sense in just doing something, irrespective of whether that will help. We could order everyone to leave their phones at home when they fly, but then no one would fly anymore, and obviously, no one seriously thinks "no price is too high" for safety. Some prices are just too high.

I started thinking about all this last week, when I was in New Delhi to give a keynote for the annual meeting of the International Cooperative Alliance, which was jointly held with the UN as the inauguration of the UN International Year of Coops, with an address from UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres:

https://2025.coop/

When I arrived in New Delhi, my hosts were somewhat flustered because Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi had just announced that he would give the opening keynote, which meant a lot of rescheduling and shuffling – but also a lot of security. I was told that the only things I could bring to the conference center the next day were my badge, my passport and my hotel room key. I couldn't bring a laptop, a phone or a spare battery. I couldn't even bring a pen ("they're worried about stabbings").

Modi – a lavishly corrupt authoritarian genocidier – has a lot of reasons to worry about his security. He has actual enemies who sometimes blow stuff up, and if one of them took him out, he wouldn't be the first Indian PM to die by assassination.

But the speakers and delegates gathered in the hotel lobby the next morning, we were told that we could bring phones, after all. Because of course we could. You can't fly people from all over the world to India and then ask them to forego the device they use as translator, map, note-taker, personal diary, and credit card. Some prices are just too high.

They took a lot of security measures. Everyone went through a metal detector, naturally. Then, we were sealed in the plenary room for more than an hour while the building was sealed off. Armed men were stationed all around the room, and the balcony outside the room was ringed with snipers:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54165263130/

We were prohibited from leaving our seats from the time Modi entered the room until he left it again, despite the fact that the PM was never more than a few steps from the single most terrifying bodyguard I'd ever seen:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54164805776/

And yet: the fact that we were less than two months out from an extremely successful, highly public demonstration of the weaponization of small batteries in personal electronics did not mean that we all had to leave our phones at the hotel.

After that, I'm tempted to think that, just possibly, security theater's curtain has rung down and its long SRO run has come to an end. It's a small bright spot in a dark time, but I'll take it.

#pluralistic #batteries #terrorism #security #security theater #modi #bombs #petn #bunnie huang #aviation #tsa #fin de siecle

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hearts4chriss · 10 months ago

Text

Fresh love for the fit.

Boyfriend! Chris x poc! Girlfriend

prompt: chris asks you to sit on his lap while he’s working only to discover ur only wearing panties

Part 8

Contains: cockwarming, mentions of reader having a fat ass, p in v, backshots, creampie, dirty talk, dom!chris pet names, ass slapping/grabbing, dirty talk, semi public, warehouse sex, caught??

Chris had draggedddd me with his brothers to the warehouse because he insisted I be with him.

They all had to sign their 6 million cards for their merch and I was sitting at the table with them as music played , I was wearing his oversized pink freshlove hoodie and a pair of panties which is not what I had intended on wearing but Chris didn’t know so I decided not to change.

I watched how they all worked taking breaks every so often trying their best not too as they had a lot of cards to sign.

that didn’t stop Chris to glance over at me with a smile pretty often resulting in his brothers groaning telling him to focus.

eventually he took his phone out sending me a text

my man😛💋

come sit on my lap baby

my girl🫶🏻

Chris no😭

my man😛💋

pleaseeee😁

I’ll behave

Now he was gonna realize I only had panties on and I was screwed, quite literally he would fuck the shit out of me for only wearing panties.

I roll my eyes and sit on his lap and he shifts his hips before pausing and whispering in my ear.

“are you only wearing panties?” His raspy voice rings in my ear allowing my pussy to react to his words and feeling his bulge through my wetness.

“God you’re such a whore, should’ve known.” Chris mumbles in my ear seeing his brothers completely in their own world.

He lifts my hips up and slides my panties down to my thighs and removes his sweatpants allowing his cock to rest on my ass.

“Chris no-“ I whine and he stops me by lifting up my hips slightly sinking me down onto him allowing him to be fully inside me, his balls resting on my clit as I tried not to moan.

“Stay quiet sweetheart.” He kisses my head beginning to work on the cards again as I tried my best not to shift on top of him knowing one singular moment would’ve sent him into a spiral and he’d bend me over this table right here.

The head of his cock rests against my g-spot making me bite my lip feeling the tears in my eyes from how desperately I wanted him to move and just fuck me.

Chris knows how easily it is to make me sexually frustrated and he seemed to notice by my quiet whimpers.

“hey Nick and Matt can you guys go grab us food? We’re gonna be here for a while let’s take a break.” Chris smiles warmly at them as if he’s not buried inside my cunt.

“yeah sure we’ll be back in like 30 minutes?” Matt says grabbing his Keys nick following him as they exit out the back of warehouse. The second that door closed Chris slides out of me standing up pressing my stomach on the table bunching up my ( his ) pink freshlove hoodie completely ripping my panties making me yelp.

“Chris I liked those!” I whine and he slaps my ass rubbing over the soft skin before rubbing his dick in between my folds making my legs quiver at the feeling and wet sound it made.

“I’ll buy you 100 new ones.” He chuckles resuming that same action

“Please baby- fuck me-“I moan pushing into him and he bunched up the hoodie against my back before slowly sliding inside me making my voice cry out.

“shhh baby we gotta be quick yeah? I’ll make you feel good I promise.” He whispers before beginning to thrust inside me at such pace I couldn’t keep up with.

I choked on my moans as my body rocked against the table, my ass meeting his pelvis making a clapping sensation sound from the size of it and how hard Chris was fucking me.

“oh fuckk! Chris feels so fucking good-“ i throw my head back as he gripped my ass rocking me back and forth on his cock roughly, his tip abusing my g-spot.

“shit- been waiting to fuck this pussy all fucking day”-he groaned slapping my ass again and I shudder but moan in response from his thrusts.

Chris slid out an inch or two then ramming back into my pussy causing him too knock the wind out of me every time, the sounds of us fucking only rising by each passing minute.

“shitt so deep Chris-“ I squeal feeling him so far inside in such way I wanted this to last forever, if I let him Chris could go round for round without tapping out.

“yeah? Like feeling my cock inside ur tight pussy? Like a slut? Couldn’t fucking wait His his snap with mine and I let my jaw hang open at his vulgar words unable to form a sentence

“Answer me sweetheart or I’ll stop and you won’t cum.” He smacked my ass and my head props up and I throw it back as he waited for me.

“Fuckk! I love ur cock in my pussy baby-“ my legs shake at his touch and his words alone seeing starts from his pace.

“mm that’s a good girl gonna stuff ur pussy with my cum, would you like that? Wanna be my cumslut?” His raspy groans and filthy wording shoots directly too my abused cunt clenching around his thick cock in desperation to cum.

“Fuck Chris! I-I wanna be ur cumslut- please let me cum-“ I sob helplessly feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes my lash extensions poking into the corners of them and he gripped my ass tightly.

I lost all control and his hands attached to my waist forcing me too take all of him to drive me to a mind blowing orgasm.

“Fuck- that’s right baby cream my dick.” Chris lays another smack too my ass reaching down to rub my clit chuckling when he feels how swollen it is.

“god Chris I’m cumming!” I cry out hoarse and I creamed his cock in a matter of seconds after that sentence left my lips him soon following behind stuffing my hole with his hot liquid.

“Fuck-“ I pant as he carefully slides out of me, us wincing at the feeling and loss.

“damn mama look at the mess we made.” Chris pants grabbing napkins to clean me up for the time being and I smile along with him realizing my handprints and body print were on the table.

“you okay? I wasn’t too rough was I?” He says pulling me up to look at him.

“No I’m okay- my legs just hurt.” I flush a bit and lean on the table.

“need these?” Chris smirks holding a thin lace material in his hand in a pinkish color matching the hoodie I’m wearing.

“Are those my- Where’d you get those?!” I say snatching them sliding them over my legs.

“I was planning to jerk off with them but, you definitely fixed that problem.” Chris says going in for a kiss before Nick and Matt walk back in with two boxes of pizza.

“Y’all did NOT fuck in here did you…” Nick says questioning us both inspecting for anything weird.

“Alright shut up I’m superrrr hungry.” I groan sitting on Chris’s lap like before and they just look at each other.

Remember what got us in this situation before sweetheart.

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @mattsnymphette @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @ratatioulle @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @stqrnstars @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @lacysturniolo @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris @breeloveschris @meetballmatt

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #hearts4chriss #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic

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chuunai · 11 months ago

Note

I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️

I’m trying I swear TvT

✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu

the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.

Assistants were something he never cared for much.

They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.

No use in actually getting to know them.

All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.

Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.

Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.

A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.

He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.

So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.

Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.

The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.

Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.

‘Single mother of eight month old girl’

There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.

And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.

Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.

Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.

Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.

“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”

Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.

“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“

His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.

“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”

Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.

“Dazai. Not sir.”

Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.

“And the baby can stay.”

She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.

Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”

He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.

“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”

“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”

This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.

Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.

And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.

New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.

Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.

So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.

He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.

His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.

Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.

“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”

Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.

“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”

His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.

“On it.”

And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.

A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.

“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”

The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.

“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.

And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.

“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”

Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.

That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.

He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.

Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.

Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.

And yours.

Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.

Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.

He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.

Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.

Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.

It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.

Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.

It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.

It wasn’t fair.

Nor were his growing feelings.

Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.

He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?

Did you even like him back?

That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.

Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:

‘I like you. Do you like me back?’

Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.

So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.

Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.

That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.

Regular Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts.

Tags for everyone who interacted with this post (it’s over 100): @walking-simp, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @heartsfourdazai, @cheriiyaya, @depressed-monarch, @nyxt0t, @baby-tini, @h0nk3rs, @internet-angell, @cupidszvlvr, @owosamu, @my-dear-melancholy, @dazaibae, @nekomafumafufan18-blog, @cvsmois, @lizsano, @nanamiinto, @inojuuy, @reomarys, @mayanakahara, @briiscoolig, @maislovebot, @syona-sachyo, @xieqq2, @angelof-darkness, @moriiko, @fuckthisfuckingshit, @daushu, @wrynue, @amnda-ft-fyodor, @rain-alucard, @hanayoshiii, @moemoekunn, @thatwasa, @miiiloo, @probablyzombiedinosaurs, @mauviese, @chips-and-vinegar, @https-dazai, @rragudoru, @leyla3x0, @cheetozai, @jillyfsh, @rylerboi, @linaaeatsfamilies, @zorizoras, @onlinewhisper14, @komicoral, @anim3-simps, @theoddsinner, @caayye, @scaramow, @such-a-silly-little-gy, @bunnybs-stuff, @psychiclovecollective, @sleepy-yumi516, @fromjas, @suzurans-world, @mrstengenuzui, @mitislm, @tealover111, @edgarallanpoeswifey, @baby-tini, @yaz4luvv, @deliciouscandysalad, @isrealityevenreal, @briefcreationcandy, @astr3eaa, @underscoredaniii, @nolongerhooman, @notalooo, @ratinawetsocksweater, @tomiroro,

Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #pm dazai #dazaibsd #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #fluff #bsd fluff #bsd tag #bsd #okay it’s lowkey shorter also might update later when I’m not about to pass out

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charlotteking23 · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! Your stories are hilarious and amazing! I was wondering if you could write a story about Batmom secretly meeting with Gotham City Sirens (Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Pamela Isley) and for a private girls night where they accidentally cause havoc (intense barfights (harley), impromptu jewelry store heists (Selina), shady alley deals (batmom), plants going crazy (Pamela), and massive amounts of sweets being "stolen" in metropolis (batmom had to stop the others from eating everything). All of which the batfam has to clean up. They follow the destruction and see what they think is batmom's ✨️Villain Debut✨️ (not really) so they go back to the manor and they stage an "intervention" for batmom. When she gets home bruce and her boys start scolding her and the Sirens for their behavior only for the girls to share a look and burst out laughing. They reveal that they were helping batmom get gifts for each of them. They went to that particular bar because they had a well aged vintage bottle of whisky that Alfred enjoys from time to time. The "shady alley deals" were from them going to a local seedy bookstore that had been open for over 100 years to get one of the only surviving copies of Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated herself. They went to that jewelry store because they were helping to make the remaining pearls of Martha Wayne's necklace into a set of cufflinks and a tie clip for Bruce, and to turn a few of Batmom's family heirloom peices into a ring that was secretly drawn by dick to propose to Kori with. They went to that confectionery because Conner mentioned they had the best coffee brew and an "espresso cake" made with extra strong espresso for Tim. That plant nursery had specific and highly nutritional feed and supplements products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat to keep them healthy. This makes them all tear up and wholesome fluff can happen.

Sorry for the length 😅 😬

Villian's Debut

Y/N slowly walked out of the house as quietly as possible, opening the manor gates and hoping in her car. She drove around the quiet streets of Gotham, it was night only those who were bad were up causing chaos in the city. It was easy to sneak out since the boys were out patrolling Gotham, and Alfred was sitting in the common room sipping his cup of tea.

Y/N drove to a secluded area parking her car near a warehouse. Upon entering she met up with the infamous Gotham City Sirens. It was a girl's night with Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Palmela Isely.

"Y/n, your finally hear", Selina Kyle said walking up to Y/n and hugging her sideways. "The sirens are back together", Harley said dragging Palmela's wrist and joining the hug. "guys we saw each other last week but as much as I enjoy the hug we have work to do.

Selina was driving in Y/n's car while Y/n was in the passenger seat turning on the radio. Harley and Palmela were in the back putting their hands in the air having the time of their life.

Their first stop was the bar, One of the best bars open in Gotham City. As they walked in all eyes were on them, I mean it was the infamous Y/n L/n, Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Palmela Isely. The four girls walked up to the bar all sitting down and ordering.

Everything was going fine till "Hey baby, you want to go somewhere" " The guy said laughing with his equally ugly friend while holding a beer.

"Excuse me, Do you want to go I can beat the living shit out of you", Harley said standing up and drowning her drink in one go ready to take the guy down. "Babe, You're a girl you can't take us dow-" Harley took out her bat and whacked the guy in the face before the guy could finish his stupid sentence. She repeatedly hit him all over his body aiming straight for his dick. Selina was still sipping her drink while Y/n was taking a video as Palmela Isely cheered for Harley.

Yeah, so they got Kicked out of the bar but it's okay because Harley was literally about to kill the guy. Next, they went to the "Shady Alley deals".

Bruce p.o.v

"Guy's there's trouble at a bar?", Bruce said checking the alarm.

"why a bar out of everything, I mean at least do something interesting", Jason leans on Dick whining about how bored he is.

"Jason will you shut up", Damian said slapping him.

They made it to the bar entering they saw a man on the floor beaten up badly.

"Who the fuck could do this", Jason said watching Tim check the drunken man's pulse.

"he's fine but way too much alcohol in his body", Tim disgusted quickly wiping his hands on his pants.

"What happened"? Dick said but was astonished to hear a girl had done this because he was being a pervert.

"Go boss bitch", Damian said walking up to Bruce.

" They must have left already, I wonder where this girl went", Bruce questioned dragging the drunken body outside to the emergency care.

Girl's p.o.v

"Aww, this is so boring", Harley said leaning against the bookshelves.

The girls were at the shady Alley deals trying to buy Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated. But the guy refused to sell them this piece claiming it was too precious. I mean that's why it's called shady.

"Look we need this copy now, how about 2,000 for the whole copy", Batmom said with annoyance.

"look lady, these are valuable and you don't seem like the person to take care of them", the stupid guy said.

With a loud dramatic gasp, "Oh know you didn't", Poison Ivy said dramatically.

"he's in for it", Selina said filing her nails.

"Look I work day and night taking care of 4 children and one husband, this is the only time I get a day off so you better give. me. those. books. or else! and trust me you don't want to know what else is.", Batmom yelled grabbing the guy's collar and pulling him face to face with an angry batmom.

"here, take it pls don't hurt me", the guy said closing his eyes in fear.

"Thanks", Batmom said skipping with the books in her hand to the car.

Time Skip

"where to next", Selina said driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone.

"Oh of course the jewelry store", Harley said pointing at the sign.

"Ok here's the plan Selina you go get the pearls", Batmom said looking at Selina.

"huh, why me"

"You are literally a cat, plus I am too clumsy, Harley too loud and Ivy refused to do it", Batmom said.

So Selina carefully went in through the roof slipping in where no one could see her. Walking through the store towards the back, she sees the pearls. She stops taking her white powder compact from the back of her pocket blowing some revealing lasers. If she stepped on one she could set off triggers of alarms. Manuering through them jumping over them, backflipping, crawling till she reached the glass box. opening she switched it out for a cat collar successfully taking the jewels.

Alarms are blaring, flashing red "Damn it", Selina hisses running away.

"what's that noise", poison Ivy says, covering her ears.

nevermind let's get out of here", Selina said hopping into the cars with the girls and driving away.

"here are the pearls", Selina says

"perfect", Batmom put them into a clip and some cufflinks.

Bruce p.o.v

"there's trouble at a jewelry store", Dick said driving towards the store.

As the boys came they saw the owner in complete panic.

"Thank goodness you're here Batman, some robbers took Matha Wayne's remaining pearl necklace", the owner said in a panic.

"The ones she died in", Batman's voice grew deeper laced with emotion only those who knew him deeply could tell.

"Let's look around B", Jason said looking around for clues.

Tim was trying to access the cameras during the robbery but as expected they were wiped out.

"cat hair", Batman said picking it up.

"This could only belong to one person", Damian said with a glare on his face.

"Oh, Batman they also took some other things, a diamond it was a heirloom from the L/N family, the owner said.

All the boys could think about was Y/n and how she would react to this news.

"We need to find these robbers before Ummi finds out", Damian said ready to beat the guys up.

Girls p.o.v

"How much candy are you going to eat Harley", Selina said but Harley only shrugged eating more.

Here they were at the confectionery, it was a small cafe but it looked so pretty pink, there was an outside patio and the inside looked like those 70's diner joints.

The girls sat down at a booth obviously Harley and Ivy sat together so Selina and Batmom were on the other side.

"H-hello, what c-can I get y-you, the waiter said in fear. I mean he is serving notorious criminals, he was shitting his pants.

"Hi, we need a coffee brew and an expresso cake please, Batmom said with the sweetest voice.

" Oh and a giant cake the biggest one!", Harley exclaimed. The waiter quickly nodded running away.

"Isn't that too much sugar, you are going to get a sugar high...again", Selina said crossing her arms and leaning back towards the booth.

"Remember last time, when you crashed right into the wall because you ate too much sugar", Ivy recalled laughing at the memories.

"H-here is your order t-too g-go, have a nice night", the waiter quickly left as we paid for the meal leaving a tip.

"how much did you leave"? Selina questioned as they left the cafe.

"$200", Batmom said shrugging and getting into the car.

The girl's final stop of the night was the plant nursery, It was a big white building, looking kind of spooky in the night.

"This feels like a scooby doo episode", Harley said walking with the girls.

"Okay Ivy we need highly nutritional feed and supplement products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat", Batmom said looking at all the machines and plants in the room.

As the girls walked they heard a strange growling noise, huddling together not because they were, definitely not. For comfort just in case, a crazy plant tried to eat them.

"come here plant...yes who's a good boy you are, yes you are", Ivysaid in a baby voice.

"she does the same baby voice batmom does with her kids", Selina said.

batmom protested but only got a yes you do face or the fucking lying face. Thinking now she did do the baby voice to her kids but they were all just so cute.

Harley suddenly screamed whinning she felt something touch her feet. No one paid attention and it still continued to flow Ivy. Suddenly a huge plant wraps its vines around Harley's mouth and legs dragging her away from the group.

"Hey, where's Harley", Selina said looking around.

All the girls screamed for Harley as they looked around in different areas.

Selina felt something and before she could attack the huge pant monster dragged her away. Only now there was batmom and Ivy left.

"Ivy what the fuck is going on", Batmom said but before Ivy could answer the plant monster appeared growling towards the girls.

the monster took hold of Batmom wrapping her in vines and trying to crush her. Ivy used her powers to fight it but before she could she saw a thorn.

"oh poor baby it's only hurt...oh you weren't trying to hurt anyone were you", Ivy said pulling the torn out trying to keep the plant monster calm.

After it was calm the monster let go of Batmom and cuddled Ivy. Batmom found Selina and Harley tied up, undoing the vines the three were weirded out to see the same plant monster who tried to eat them getting a belly rub by ivy.

"This was the best girl's night ever", Harley grinned hugging the girls in a group hug tightly.

Tonight was a roller coaster, but it was fun, especially with the girls. They got in trouble with the Authorities twice no doubt the infamous Batman and her kids had already heard about the incident. But it was a memory you look back on and laugh at, doing it with those you love.

Batmom signed slowly entering the dark mansion seeing that no one was awake.

Suddenly the lights came on frightening Batmom seeing all her kids and Bruce looking at her with disapproval in their eyes. It's like looking in a mirror.

"Hi, how was everyone's night?", Batmom said trying to diffuse the situation.

"Mom, you were out with the villains Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Selina Kyle again", Dick said crossing his arms in sadness.

"yes, but I had a good reason-, Batmom tried to explain but Bruce interrupted her.

"Y/n, you girls got in a bar fight and stole jewelry and other things", Bruce said trying to keep an emotionless expression. He couldn't believe his innocent wife could do all of this.

Soon all the kids started to talk at the same time, asking questions of all sorts. It was getting too much for Batmom wishing now she stayed with the girls for another hour or so.

"kids, you give the girls a chance to explain what happened", Alfred said as you gave him a grateful nod.

you took a deep breath before sharing a look with the Sirens before laughing out loud with the girls all clutching your stomachs.

They reveal that they were helping Batmom get gifts for each of them. They went to that particular bar because they had a well-aged vintage bottle of whisky that Alfred enjoys from time to time.

The "shady alley deals" were from them going to a local seedy bookstore that had been open for over 100 years to get one of the only surviving copies of Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated herself.

They went to that jewelry store because they were helping to make the remaining pearls of Martha Wayne's necklace into a set of cufflinks and a tie clip for Bruce and to turn a few of Batmom's family heirloom pieces into a ring that was secretly drawn by dick to propose to Kori with.

They went to that confectionery because Conner mentioned they had the best coffee brew and an "espresso cake" made with extra strong espresso for Tim.

That plant nursery had specific and highly nutritional feed and supplement products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat to keep them healthy.

"see you big goofs all this was a big misunderstanding all the things we did were for you tonight", Batmom said to her family with tears in her eyes holding all the girl's hands.

"Don't worry Ma I never doubted you for a minute, Jason said smiling at his Ma.

"Really, Because when you first heard about Mother Time with the SIrens you were crying out that your Mother betrayed me", Tim said looking smugly.

Jason only huffed at Tim crossing his arms in annoyance before Damian came up and hugged his Ummi burying his head in her chest.

When Damian released his Ummi, Bruce walked up to his wife kissing her with so much passion. Bruce couldn't believe his wife did all of this for him and his kids. Oh, how he loves her.

"I love you", Bruce said quietly for only her to hear.

"I love you more", Batmom whispered back pecking his lips.

"Heyyy, who's up for a sleepover", Harley said shouting while hugging the sirens.

Oh Boy

#batman #batfam x batmom #batfam x reader #batmom #batmom imagine #batmom imagines #batmom!reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #harley quinn #catwoman #selina kyle #pamela isley #poison ivy #harleen quinzel

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gangrenados · 2 years ago

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Mala sangre

Yandere!Miguel O'Hara headcanons ft. Fem!reader

@liurnia is owner of the gifs, they're not mine

•I 100% belive this man got some yandere tendencies going on. He's obsessive and determined and will not hesitate to fight for what he wants or believes (even if it means body slamming a poor guy into a train but ayways)

•Miguel it's the type of yandere who won't show his love, he's not verbal, you won't even realize his feelings till he acts on them.

•He might not be the hopeless romantic type, but he cares deeply and believes that he knows what's right for you. So yeah, Miguel doesn't really care about what you have to say.

•Is he violent towards his darling? Well, not intentionally...you see, he gets riled up easily and when he gets angry he doesn't really measures his actions.

•The only way he could potentially hurt his darling is if she tries to escape. Spider or not, Miguel would haunt you down and drag you back to him no matter the cost.

•During the chase he acts crazy, rabid. He's the predator and you're the pray; so good luck hiding cuz the thrill of the chase gets him going.

•Towards others then yes, there's not if or buts. Miguel it's aggressive towards those who harm you or try to take you away from him, he has no mercy or control with them.

•Miguel is down to kidnapping, he might keep you locked up in that techno-bubble trap or perhaps go as far to get a little warehouse for you to live in.

•Also I feel like he would go as far as web you to the bed to prevent you from even thinking about running away.

(In a nsfw take he might web you to the wall or even the ceiling to get his way with you and act on his low desires)

•Whatever the decision might be, Miguel it's going to have his eyes on you 24/7.

•Listen, he's aware that his behavior it's fucked up and all, but deep down his delusional too.

Miguel calms down his anxiety by thinking that maybe this was supposed to happen, it's the right thing to keep you close and safe.

•He has seen too much and knows that the world it's an unforgiving place where anything bad can happen at any time. Miguel doesn't want you to be at risk, he can protect you from all that, he knows he can.

•He's just doing what heroes do, it's his duty as a Spider-man.

•Sometimes, Miguel let his mind wander through all his delusions and daydream a bit.

• Is it selfish to want a peaceful life full of love? He knows he can give you a beautiful life, he can be a good lover, a good husband, a good dad.

•Being this close to finally reach happiness and get his own family makes him have a little bit of hope for the future.

•To be able to have his pretty wife and a baby. Maybe with a bit of luck he'll be able to have a daughter of his own, his Gabriella.

•Yeah, Miguel would surely try for kids. Deep inside he truly believes he can be good, that you both could have a good life

•"Esto es lo mejor para ti, trust me." Miguel repeats that phrase over and over again like a mantr, at this point he's not even sure if he's still trying to convince you or himself.

#miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara imagine #atsv x reader

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bonezone44 · 11 months ago

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it's CLINT

(headcanons for a character in a [currently] unreleased movie)

listens to country and metal

used to do speed while working overnights at a warehouse

drives a shitty sportscar that he's always working on. ( "Can't go out with ya this weekend, baby. Gotta replace those brakes.")

obsessed with eating steak. (example: no hamburgers, he wants a steak sandwich) He eats all the french fries on the way home EVERY SINGLE TIME he gets y'all fast food. It's to the point where he's not allowed to pick up food anymore.

he loves arguing with you. he loves how fiesty you get.

heavy into degradation aka loves calling you 'slut' and 'whore.' into spanking, face-slapping, choking, rough blow-jobs, rough sex in general.

Won't let you buy/use dildos or vibrators. If you wanna come, you gotta use him for that.

Will allow butt plugs, anal trainers, inflating plugs

Will use objects on you. (bottle, hairbrush, etc)

He sleeps around sometimes, but wants you to be 100% monogamous.

Will literally buy you anything and everything. Will empty his wallet at your feet. You give him purpose and he wants to shower you with gifts.

Sex is either a quickie ("Get over here. I need to fuck somethin right quick.") or a marathon. He uses viagra/blue chew and has zero shame about it.

Possessive, jealous. Brags to all his friends about you. Shows you off when you're out together. His hands are always all over you in public.

Exhibitionist because he's so cocky about having someone as sexy and kinky as you.

#what am I even doing here #i don't even know this dude

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darkbluekies · 2 years ago

Note

hi hi how have you been if it's no trouble and if you are taking requests can I request your ocs with an artist reader that gives them a painted picture of themselves, If it's too difficult pls ignore this. Thanks and have a great day/night♡

(sorry if my grammar is bad)

A/N: I'm so sorry, there might have been some translation error in my brain that said that yn gave the yanderes a picture of themselves, not of yn! I'm still not 100% sure what you mean, but I wrote this. I hope you'll like it even if it's the wrong interpretation :(♡

Warnings: a bit suggestive parts in Edmund's and Silas’s

Silas:

You’re quietly coming into his office with something behind your back. Silas looks curious, asking you what you want since you never come down to his office. Youquickly give the paper over to him and attempts to run, but he lets his men lock the doors before you have the time to reach them.

“Now, now, don’t run. Let’s see what you’ve given me … wow, baby, this is magnificent. You drew me? Why haven’t you told me that you have such a talent, little thing? Now, don’t get all shy now. I really like it. I’ll keep it right here on my desk. Come here now so I can give you a kiss.”

Dr Kry:

He can tell that you’ve been drawing something for over an hour by now, but you haven’t let him see it. Everytime he comes close you pull the paper away. He’s growing curious, he can’t deny that. By lunchtime, you give him your artwork. He scans it with a small smile on his face.

“You made this of me? How sweet of you. I will cherish this dearly, I promise. Do you like to draw? Do you want me to buy you some supplies?”

King Edmund:

He has hundreds of portraits from all ages. Every year there's a new portrait of him (and you) hung in the throne room. But when you give him a messy sketch of him that you made while waiting for him to finish a meeting, he's mesmerized. You've caught something that the other painters haven't. There's something real about your sketch. Something human that has gotten erased in the official portraits.

"This is so beautiful, my jewel. You have a wonderful talent. I want you to paint my next portrait. And I'll do whatever pose you want, wearing whatever you want."

Jerry:

She likes to make some sketches too. But nothing professional. Just some doodles when she's bored. She has let you borrowed her sketchbook while she's gone in a warehouse to retrieve stuff you want nothing to do with. You draw her from memory and when she returns you hand the book back. She catches a glimpse of the small cartoonish sketch you've made of her.

"Is this supposed to be me? Why did you make my face so round? I have a jawline, you know. I'm just teasing, I know it's an art style. It's stupidly cute somehow. I'll make one of you later and then we'll keep them in our phonecases, got it?"

Hedwig:

You're not paying attention in class again. It's okay, though! Hedwig will give you her notes. You're leaning against the wall, doodling. You start to draw your girlfriend, picturing her side profile magnificently.

"Y/N, we'll work in pairs now- … oh, is that me? Wow, you're amazing! You have to show me more later, I didn't know you had such good talent! Can I keep it? Thank you, I'll hang it in my locker and get reminded of you every time I open it!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere headcanon #yandere reactions #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere doctor #yandere king #yandere female #yandere x darling

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100babywarehouse · 5 months ago

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Categories of Sim by Gender

Female

Male

Gender Non-Conforming

Categories of Sim by Age

Infant

Toddler

Child

Teen

Young Adult

Adult

Elder

Categories of Sim by Sexuality

Gay (m or f)

Straight (m or f)

Bisexual

Pansexual

Asexual

Categories of Sim by Life State

Alien

Human

Vampire

Werewolf

Spellcaster

Servo

Mermaid

Categories of Sim by 100 Baby or Legacy Spare

100 Baby Sim

Legacy Spare

Categories of Sim by Parents

Well Known Townie is a Relative (e.g. Don Lothario, Mortimer Goth)

No Townies in Family History

Categories of Sim by Custom Content

No CC

Light CC

Heavy CC

Categories of Sim by Level of Berry

Vanilla (normal)

Banilla (colorful hair and eyes)

Berry

Categories of Sim by Creator

Oswanily

Cyazurai

All TS4 Sims from the Beginning || Most Recent

#the sims #ts4 #the sims 4 #100 baby warehouse #sim resource #sim download #navigation

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vaingod · 1 year ago

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you better be stealing shit during any holiday sale btw, black friday isnt real. 90% of these prices are genuinely fake, items that were usually $40 put on sale for $39.99 with a "was" price listed as $60 and a black friday sale banner put above it will get sold out within the day, there are no sales no deals nothing is currently being sold at a crazy good price just save your money and steal all year round! theres your deal! 100% off all the time forever baby stop being tempted by artificial sales meant to empty out corporations warehouses just to refill them with shit for the next capitalism holiday i know its hard but steal that shit instead of spending any money on it

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seramilla · 8 months ago

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Okay Vaggies emotional turmoil I 100% understand and I am LIVING for the angst but can we touch on Carmilla, Clara, and Odette? They just learned that their daughter and sister, their BABY sister is not only alive but also a full grown adult at this time.

They missed everything. All of her firsts and all her heart breaks. They weren’t there when she needed advice. Or for any of her awkward questions. They missed getting to grow up with her. Getting to raise her. Getting to know her. I KNOW they want some way to get that family back together.

And she missed having a family. Having anyone. Unless you count the exorcist cause in a way they are her sisters.

Either way more angst for your mind. And if you write about it more content for me to consume.

Carmilla does meet Vaggie at the door to her compound this time, just as she'd promised. When the angel arrives, the district of warehouses and workers loading and unloading trucks is deserted. The street is still empty and eerily quiet. Vaggie suspects Carmilla’s people are still stocking up from the Extermination. Not much manufacturing to be done while fresh angelic weapons are still lining the streets, waiting to be salvaged.

Vaggie doesn’t even need to buzz the door — as soon as she comes within sight of the camera, the door lifts, and Carmilla is standing there. Just as tall and intimidating as ever, especially compared to her, but her eyes communicate the exact opposite of the impatience they had the last time she'd been here. Now, she really seems like she’s trying to see Vaggie, see into her, instead of like the intruder she'd been before. Vaggie shifts between her feet awkwardly.

“Umm, hi, Carmilla,” Vaggie says, making a waving motion with her hand. What was that, idiot?! Vaggie screams at herself. Why are you such a fucking putz?

"Hello, dear," Carmilla greets her, warm and inviting and so unlike that fierce warrior that taught her all that fancy footwork a week prior. Now she's looking at the angel like she has something to prove. "I'm glad to see you again. Would you come in?"

"Yeah." Vaggie agrees, rubbing the back of her head nervously, and following her inside. The warehouse is just as dark and depressing as the last time she'd been here, and just as empty. No one else is around, and Vaggie wonders why Carmilla is here on her own.

They don't go far. A short trip up the elaborate staircase, and Carmilla turns them toward a small office space at the very top. She opens the door, letting the little angel head inside first, before entering herself and turning on a light. It's much more inviting in here, with big windows and lots of natural light. The space is meant to look like a small apartment, maybe one Carmilla stays in when she's overseeing her workers. A futon and coffee table sit in the corner, with an industrial-sized desk on the other side of the room, covered with papers.

"Sit anywhere you'd like, dear," Carmilla instructs. There's really only one place to sit, other than Carmilla's big executive office chair, so Vaggie takes one edge of the futon. Suddenly, Carmilla reappears with two cups of tea in her hand. She gives one to Vaggie. "I made some tea for your arrival. Hope you like chamomile."

"Th-thank you," Vaggie says, taking her cup. She doesn't drink right away, just rubs her fingers against the rough ceramic surface for a moment, before finally taking a sip. Carmilla sits on the opposite end of the futon beside her. Both women just co-exist in the space for a while, letting the silence permeate, unsure of where to begin. Ultimately, it's Vaggie who breaks the silence.

"I was hoping I could talk to you about...the other day," Vaggie admits, still not able to meet Carmilla's gaze. Carmilla doesn't have that problem. She's staring straight at Vaggie, overly hopeful, fighting the urge to reach over to her, and grasp her shoulder. Vaggie notices the subtle shift in her movement, like she's trying to hold herself back. She smiles...it's a sad smile. One that speaks of unspoken feelings rather than genuine happiness. Vaggie wants that to change. Why is this so difficult?

"It's okay," Vaggie says, finally able to look Carmilla in the eye. "I'm not really a touchy-feely person, except with Charlie. But you can hug me, if you want."

Carmilla had gotten so used to doing it that first day in the hospital. Vaggie can tell she wants to do it again. They'd both been so confused, and desperate for one another's affection. Leaning toward Vaggie slowly, so as not to scare her away, Carmilla scooches closer to her on the futon, and puts one arm around the angel.

Like she'd said, Vaggie is not normally a touchy person, except with Charlie. She gets the impression Carmilla isn't either, except with her daughters. Even so, Vaggie turns her small body into the older woman, and falls into her embrace. Carmilla moves in even closer, short of wrapping herself around the girl again, and starts stroking her long hair, like she'd done at the hospital. It had helped calm Vaggie down then.

For some reason, the movement sets Vaggie off this time, and she struggles so badly not to cry. Pushing away slightly, she rubs her good eye with the back of her hand, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Vaggie says, ashamed at how easily she crumbles in front of this woman. She's normally made of better stuff than this. "I didn't come here to do this again. I really wanted to talk."

Vaggie keeps rubbing at her good eye, and then at her eyepatch, as if it's hurting her. She does so until the skin on her face and arm starts to turn red and raw. Carmilla pulls Vaggie's arm away, placing it between them in her lap.

"Don't." Carmilla says, squeezing Vaggie's hand. "Don't hurt yourself. I've been doing a lot of that the last few days, too. It's okay. You don't have to hide it."

"It's not okay!" Vaggie exclaims, getting frustrated with herself again. "I came here to ask questions, and maybe give you answers, too. This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"We've got time," Carmilla says, pulling her closer again. Vaggie is thankful for it. At least she can hide her embarrassment in Carmilla's chest, where she doesn't have to acknowledge her tears. "We can just sit here, and talk some more. We can do whatever you want."

Then, hesitating, not sure if Vaggie is ready yet, but Carmilla adds the caveat anyway, "My daugh--Odette and Clara will be here shortly. They've been out gathering supplies. You don't have to, but would you...want to meet them?"

Vaggie remembers Carmilla's other girls. They'd delivered Sir Pentious' weapons that day, when he still found everyone at the hotel so untrustworthy. She'd never given the two women much thought before at all, but admittedly, she is very curious now. She doesn't know what they will make of her...but if they're also family, if there's something she can learn about her would-have-been life from before...there's a part of her that really wants to know.

"Would they...be okay with that?" Vaggie asks. "Do they even know about me?"

"They know about you, yes," Carmilla answers. "I can't...say with certainty how they'll react. They are their own people. But if we want to try and make this work...?"

Carmilla leaves the statement open-ended. Vaggie gets it. These one-on-one rendezvous with Carmilla could go on ad nauseam, and a part of her is okay with that...but another part really wants to know all the extended members of her family. She's not unfamiliar with having sisters before. In a sense, all the Exorcists had been her sisters. They worked together, and trained together. Made small talk, and had each other's backs (most of the time). Maybe this wouldn't be much different.

"Yeah," Vaggie says, acknowledging what Carmilla had been trying to convey before. It won't be easy, but...maybe it's another step they can take together. "I am nervous, but...I'd like to meet them. If that's okay with you."

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #vaggie #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #sir pentious hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories #vaggie carmilla related au

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lingy910y · 10 months ago

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Galladrabbles

post 11x05? prompt is “Loser, Baby” from Hazbin Hotel by @depressedstressedlemonzest, for @galladrabbles. man is it hard to let them have a conversation under 100 words 😭

“You alright?” Mickey glances at his husband with his head down. And he’s definitely not looking at the route.

“Yeah, I’m just…still grieving losing my job. Feel like a fuckin’ loser for not keeping it and stomping outta there.”

“You’re not, man. At least you tried. Better than me.”

“…Proud of you too. You’re better at illegal but smart shit.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Look, you got a job since you were 15. Did so many odd jobs even when your brain was against you. Became an EMT. You lost your shitty warehouse job, so? Now you’re with me.”

#galladrabbles #no116 #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless us

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headfulloflettuce · 1 month ago

Text

The Human Who Fooled All of Prythian

31. I Am Definitely Just a Tourist. For sure. 100%

“I confess I do not know why, but looking at the stars always makes me dream.”

- Vincent van Gogh

“Holy shit.” Cosette whispered as their boat entered Velaris’s port.

“This is nothing yet, wait until you get into the city.” one of the faeries yelled, laughing at her reaction, helping several crewmates drag rope to help the boat dock.

Cosette closed her mouth, still staring at the city of starlight. Or well, the parts she could see.

From the ship Cosette saw the city stretch out into the mountains, streets glowing like someone had spilled starlight over the peaks and let them slide down, creating various cascading patterns.

Cosette leaned on the edge of the ship, trying to get a better view of the city beyond the port’s buildings. The wind, chilly, but not nearly as harsh as the one in Winter Court, ruffled her hair and dress. She had taken the cloak and hat off after they entered Day Court’s waters, the weather shifting to one of warmth.

The Sidra River cut through the city, filled with small sailing boats. Several bridges went across, permitting carts and people to travel.

As the boat moved deeper into the port, the Sidra River was partially obscured from sight, making Cosette frown like a child denied a tasty treat.

Alright, well, at least the Velaris hype was real.

Cosette no longer questioned why any individual, faerie or human, would want to come to this place. It was just too pretty to pass up!

“Sorry to wake you from your reverie Miss, but the boat has docked.” the same fae from before gently patted her on the back.

“Oh? Right! Thank you!” Cosette quickly moved from her spot, finding Amelio and Linus ready to climb off the ship, waiting for the gangway to be raised.

Their boat was much larger than most of the other ships in the bay. Thus the faeries at the dock had to raise a platform to make climbing off the freighter easier.

Otherwise the bridge would be more like a slide.

Cosette walked down the steps, holding onto the railings, her head looking from side to side, earning an eye roll from Linus.

“For spirits sake Cosette, you live in the capital of Winter Court, Velaris isn’t that impressive by comparison.” the man muttered, quiet enough so that the Night Court sailors nearby wouldn’t hear.

Cosette ignored him.

No wonder all the girls want to be isekai’d here. Look at the buildings! Look at the sky! Oh my God the sky!!

Cosette stared at the sky. Despite it being daytime the stars were still visible, with the sky being a darker shade than normal.

Okay, that’s it. If I find a bat boy out on the street I am gonna make them fall in love with me so hard they have to take me in and help me.

Cosette paused.

Wait, none of the bat boys are eligible bachelors though. Damnit, that means I cannot get a sugar baby pass. Whoever put me in this world really forgot to give me the traditional isekai startup kit for a girl. I want my money back.

Similar to the Winter Court, Lesser Faeries were rushing from bay to bay, managing and assisting ships with loading cargo or maintenance, with several large faeries carrying tool kits to a nearby sailing ship that was unloading boxes of fish.

Cosette didn’t even care that Amelio was too busy to chat, there was just so much to see.

Some of the faeries here had grayish skin tones, with a couple blue heads peeking out near the edge of the pier, reporting something to the faeries with tools.

“Cosette?”

“Huh?”

“Back to Prythian Cosette.”

Cosette snapped out of it, turning to blink at Amelio, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“They have unloaded a part of our cargo which we’re planning on delivering now.”

“What about the rest of it?”

“It’ll be stored in a warehouse and we’ll take care of it during the following days.”

Cosette nodded.

“Will you be coming with us?” he continued.

“Yes, I don’t really know my way around the city, so I would appreciate some direction.”

Amelio nodded, offering his arm to Solene who took it, and began walking towards the exit of the port, several carts of produce and packages following after them.

“We will be traveling down the roads meant for goods, but afterwards you’ll be able to properly see the city.”

I don’t know what you’re talking about Amelio, I can already see plenty from here.

Just in the port Cosette had already spotted various shops and restaurants where sailors mingled with regular civilians.

“Miss, head down!”

Cosette barely ducked under as a wooden log appeared where her head was seconds ago.

Two large faeries with skin color of smoke, walked past her, carrying a long wooden log.

“You should move back to your group, Miss, don’t want to get hurt.” one of them warned.

Cosette nodded, quickly moving back to rejoin Amelio and the rest, having gotten separated from them as she was exploring.

“Seriously…foreigners…so annoying…go back to your own court.” the other faerie muttered to his friend who shook his head in disappointment.

Amelio cast a small glance over his shoulder to Cosette, “Don’t fall behind.”

Cosette picked up the pace, getting into the carriage that was waiting for them at the edge of the port, after Solene and Amelio entered, with Linus begrudgingly, letting her sit down first.

Since they would be returning to the ship to rest for the night, Cosette had just a small bag with her, inside of which was her xeranthemum perfume, the perfume samples, notebook, pencil and a light cloak, in case she got cold in the evening.

The carriage was different from the ones in Winter Court. Instead of the whole thing being enclosed, it had no walls, with curtains hanging off the roof of the carriage, ready to be unfurled to provide privacy if needed.

The moment the carriage took off Cosette leaned over to get the best view she could, looking out at the city in fascination, earning a snort from Linus who quickly coughed to silence it when seeing Amelio’s expression. The road they took was a separate one from the main street passing between shops and businesses, permitting faster and more direct travel to the backs of stores and other warehouses.

Despite this, Cosette could still see quite a bit of the ongoings on the main streets where faeries walked in groups, chatting and laughing. Some were shopping for food, others casually relaxing in cafes. The cobblestone that made up the roads almost shimmered, making it look iridescent.

In retrospect, she could see just how much their group stuck out by clothes alone. While most of the Velaris citizens wore airy robes and clothes in darker blues or purples, their group wore much more heavy clothing with furs that didn’t suit the weather. Even those that decided to cover up from the chilly breeze wore translucent cloaks or sparkling, light shawls.

The whole scene seemed almost otherworldly.

I am sure the Night Court citizens have warmer clothing for venturing into the mountains, or when it snowed.

The carriage eventually came to a stop behind a furniture store, with Amelio and Linus leaving Solene and Cosette to greet the business owner that came out to meet them.

Cosette also got out of the carriage, still not used to the lack of snow separating her from the ground.

Funny how quickly I got used to Winter Court as my new norm, though perhaps, that was a human strength rather than a weakness: adaptability.

Cosette watched Linus delegate and assist in the distribution of goods, doing her best to not get in the way. Solene joined her.

“It’s really pretty here.” Cosette said tentatively, uncertain if Solene’s frost towards her had thawed by this point.

“It is.” Solene nodded, “I especially like the main streets, it’s unlike anything we have back home. Everything is practically glowing with moonlight.”

“Yes!” Cosette nodded excitedly in agreement, happy that Solene was finally speaking normally to her again.

Amelio approached the group, his employees unloading produce with Linus going down a catalog.

“The next shop is right next door so we can just walk to it to deliver the goods.”

Solene nodded in agreement.

“Amelio, why do you visit all the vendors personally?” Cosette asked.

“Well, I want them to like me.” Amelio smiled.

Like you want me to like you?

Seeing that she wasn’t convinced he elaborated, “It’s to establish good relations in a place that I don’t frequent on the regular.”

“Right.”

The group walked with the carts several shops over to a restaurant, where the amount that faeries began unloading was much more substantial than for the previous stop.

“Don’t you have anything better to be doing than staring at the buildings?” Linus raised an eyebrow.

“You seem to have plenty of time to chat with me even though you’re supposed to be helping.” she retorted.

“Sure, sure, turn it around on me when you’re the one who supposedly came here because of your project.” Linus walked back over to the other Lesser Faeries, checking something off his clipboard.

“We’ll be staying here for about three days, with us leaving midway on the third one.” Amelio spoke up, “If you want to find the information you came here for, it’s probably best to go now.”

Are you trying to get rid of me?

Cosette had to admit they had a point though, she needed to get a move on.

“Where should I go to find weavers and artisans?” Cosette didn’t mention the Rainbow of Velaris since according to her ‘lore’ she shouldn’t know about it.

“You’ll want to head to the Rainbow of Velaris. Just cross the Sidra River and you’ll find it.”

After giving her directions on how to get to the bridge Amelio turned back to Linus, monitoring his work with the other faeries, Solene wrapping her arms around her husband’s.

They look like a family.

Taking a deep breath, and without looking back Cosette began her journey.

Cosette was starting to fear she would never make it to the Rainbow of Velaris as her eyes kept wandering to literally everything else that was present. Bakeries, forges, clothing shops, cafes, and various food vendors selling fruits she had never seen before. The streets managed to not be too crowded despite the number of buildings, faeries and carts, because of the organized design of roads.

Perhaps it was simply the number of magical elements that prevented it from feeling like New York or any other major city Cosette had visited back on Earth, but something about the streets just felt like an inescapable dream.

It was almost a similar experience to when she first came to Winter Court; except that when she had arrived there she had hiked in heels for several days straight and had been stressed out of her mind for her own and Ophelia’s future. At least, Cosette assumed if she had been in a better state of mind she would have been as blown away as she was now by Velaris.

The human took a deep breath and relaxed, being able to afford to enjoy the scenery around her.

A real privilege in this world - not fearing that Eris would ride up on a horse and bust your secret for the whole of Prythian to see.

Cosette stopped before a small table full of unfamiliar sweets.

Ophelia would like these.

In fact, I should get her and Blanche’s family some souvenirs while I am here. Something for Theo too, he’s hard at work after all.

After managing to pull herself away from the food stalls, Cosette stood in awe of the Sidra River for a few minutes, staring at all the sailboats. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen a river before. Cosette had seen plenty, albeit smaller ones. The Sidra was simply enchanting, from its shimmering dark blue hues to the sailboats that had various flags and ribbons billowing in the air.

Crossing the bridge, the next place that had caught Cosette’s eye was different from the rest. Instead of a shop, a merchant’s tent or some other vendor, it was a shrine.

The walls were tall, built out of granite and limestone, forming a large dome. Craning her neck as she walked up the steps, Cosette could see how the stained glass windows, stretching almost the entire length of the wall, depicted great horned owls and unfamiliar planets.

Do they have their own solar system?

Cosette stopped.

Wait, do they even know they’re on a planet? How much has science actually progressed in Prythian?

Do…do they know about gravity?

Cosette couldn’t remember if such details were mentioned in the ACOTAR books.

Walking up the stairs leading to the heavy doors that opened with ease to her touch, Cosette stepped inside the shrine.

It was brighter than she expected. The center of the shrine, which was beneath the dome, was the brightest spot in the building and contained rows upon rows of seats in a circular fashion, surrounding a pool of water.

Looking up Cosette gaped, unable to tear her eyes off the ceiling decorated in a large mosaic made out of crystal and stone, depicting a night sky full of stars and nightjars. She could swear the crystals shone, being the ones responsible for the surprising illumination within the building.

In the air, specs of green, purple, pink and even orange fluttered across the sky, Squinting, as one flew closer Cosette realized what they were - moths. Moths of various species danced across the fake sky, landing on any object they chose to, before taking flight once more.

The candles placed along the walls provided additional luminance, highlighting how the mosaic sky crept down the pillars and walls, before slowly fading into the limestone peppered with granite, where cabinets with books and scrolls rested, accompanied by small paintings decorating the walls.

“Ahem.” a soft voice made Cosette almost jump.

She turned to face a woman dressed in a dark blue light dress with cold shoulder sleeves, the hem of which was decorated with sparkles. The whole outfit felt casual and relaxed due to its silky and floaty design. At the center of the woman’s chest there was a large ornate star brooch.

“Do you require assistance?”

“I-oh. No, I just came in. Sorry, is that not allowed? No one stopped me…”

“No, no, it’s completely fine.” the lady smiled, “I just ask because I haven’t seen you here before. I know most of our visitors by name.”

Aw shucks, was it the staring that gave me away?

“I am a tourist.” Cosette cringed, deciding to be honest, “I came in because the building looked pretty.”

The lady tilted her head, before smiling, “Ah, well that makes a lot more sense. You had me concerned that something had been keeping you from coming to a Spirit’s shrine all this time. May I ask what court you are from?”

Is there a strict schedule for coming to church, because me and Ophelia haven’t gone once in Winter Court.

“I am from Winter Court.”

“Lovely.”

“Is…is it required to go to a spirit’s shrine, regularly?”

The lady frowned, “No, of course not. Or well, it isn’t in Velaris. We give our citizens the choice of who they choose to worship, but most people come in to pay respect once in a while. A small portion of the citizens choose to worship the minor, supporting spirits instead, along with the Mother, of course. It’s quite funny actually, you can tell whenever exam season is happening in schools, or when merchant families are traveling as High Fae and Lesser Fae kids alike will come in to pray for their success.” she gently brushed her dark black hair, “Times like that make me think we’re truly the same.”

Cosette’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything, “Minor spirits…like the farming spirits?”

How did education work within Velaris? Or anywhere in Prythian in fact?

The lady gave Cosette a look.

Cosette, shut up, you’re digging yourself into an early grave.

“Not exactly…but something similar. Do you not have minor spirits in Winter Court?”

“I-no I am sure they exist, I am just not aware of them. I came here from Winter Court but I am originally from the Faerie Realms.”

“Ahhh.” the lady nodded in understanding, “Do you worship just the Mother then?”

Again, a reminder to self to get a specialized textbook about spirits. My lack of knowledge is absolutely unacceptable at this point.

Also, when I find your Mister Aristippus I am going to tell you exactly what I think about your vague answers or lack thereof for the spirits. How dare you only focus on the High Priestesses?! I am being quizzed out here and you did not prepare me. I place all the blame on you.

“That was the case for my family and village.” Cosette decided if she was going to bury herself, she would put the final nail in too, “Is there a difference between the priestesses who work here and the ones that worship the Mother?”

“Are you referring to the High Priestesses?”

Cosette nodded.

“Oh, most definitely, although, we too worship the Mother.” she frowned, “Do they not separate the two in the Faerie Realms?”

Cosette shrugged, “Not sure, my family just didn’t worship the spirits as much so…”

“You seem to be quite an uneducated child. The High Priestesses visit the Faerie Realms for important celebrations and events, you should know this.”

Sorry ma’am.

Cosette looked down at the ground in shame.

Easing up on her though the faerie explained, “The priestesses are High Fae we are Lesser Fae.”

“Always?”

The lady was starting to look very concerned, “Yes…always.”

“I see.” Cosette smiled brightly.

See? I am cute, you can’t stay mad at me for long!

The faerie tilted her head slightly.

Please don’t stay mad at me.

The faerie nodded, the only sound coming from the shimmering pool of water, and a few other shrine workers, moving around silently in the background.

Deciding to change the topic, Cosette blurted out, “Does the Spirit grant them?”

“What?”

“The wishes of the children?”

The faerie laughed, the sound like an evening breeze, “Sometimes.”

“Well, thank you for having me.” Cosette bowed, unsure where to take the conversation next, “I am sorry for disturbing you.”

The faerie shook her head, “You’re fine, would you not like to come and pray?”

“Can I?”

“Of course child, why would you be turned away?”

The fae led Cosette deeper into the shrine, passed the rows of seats and the pool.

“My name is Lailah, what about yours?”

“Cosette, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lailah.” Cosette hoped the shrine maidens didn’t have a particular title she was supposed to use.

The faerie stopped and knelt before a stained glass window of a white hooded figure with white sparkling hair, and skin made up of galaxies fading from white to dark, clothed in modest robes from which nocturnal critters peaked out, hiding amongst the stars in the form of constellations.

Cosette followed her lead.

“Here is where we say our prayers. I assume you do not know how prayers are done in Winter Court?”

Cosette shook her head.

She sighed, tired but not angry, “The youth these days…no respect for tradition.”

“Sorry.”

My apologies for being too busy trying to survive to go to church.

“No worries, I was just curious if it was different from our traditions.” Lailah gave Cosette a slightly annoyed smile.

Right, I forget you all have basically never left Velaris.

“If you would like to go somewhere besides Velaris, where would you go?”

Lailah thought for a minute, “I have always wanted to see the Summer Court.”

“The beach is the best!

“Have you been to Summer Court as well?”

“No, we had a beach back home.”

The faerie nodded, turning her attention back to the stained glass, and lit one of the many candles. Throwing away the match she closed her eyes, and put her hands together in prayer afterwards.

Seems like a waste to get rid of a good match.

Cosette followed suit, staring at the candle she lit herself.

Noticing her tension Lailah jokingly whispered, “You can pray if you wish.”

So Cosette prayed.

Hi, Spirit of the Night Court. I apologize, I am not very good at this due to a lack of experience, but I will try my best.

Cosette sat quietly, thinking.

I pray…please let me find what I am looking for.

She paused; not specific enough.

Spirit of Night, please help me in finding the necessary information for the spirit homes. I would be honored if you assisted. I really want to help the people back in Winter Court and I truly think your court can help me.

Cosette shifted slightly, Lailah beside her not moving a millimeter.

Should I do something else? What else does a perso-faerie do in this kind of situation?

Cosette tried to think back to the times when her mother would take them to see cathedrals in France, claiming them to be better than the ones in America. Or the Sunday service their father would insist on driving them to once in a while to maintain appearances with extended family.

Cosette wasn’t sure why their father insisted on it, considering that he beat up an uncle who claimed he shouldn’t have married an immigrant, but who was she to judge? Maybe he wanted to beat someone up again.

Cosette and her brother would always be a willing audience, to their mother’s displeasure. Not that she didn’t like the act of honor. She simply didn’t want her children to witness such brutality amongst adults that were supposed to protect them.

Aren’t you supposed to confess to your sins or something?

Cosette thought hard.

Okay. What have I done that’s absolutely terrible?

I guess I did stab a faerie, but he was also trying to kill me and a fellow human so that was somewhat justified.

I did buy the home of two innocent faeries but I also allowed them to stay there, while giving them a job! I lived in a hotel while those two lived in a house I technically owned!

I stole a faerie’s locket and the money of other workers in the Forest House.

Cosette thought hard.

Guess that one is harder to excuse. It was a simple act of revenge. Granted, revenge against the fact that I had gotten whipped and thrown into a cell for that snake’s lie, but nonetheless it was petty.

Cosette opened her eyes.

The smarter choice would have been to steal something else. Targeting a personal item was too bold a move.

She shook her head.

It was in the past now. Nothing I could do about it anyways.

Cosette almost laughed.

Aren’t I supposed to be feeling remorseful, not strategizing for how to commit crimes better?

As for an actual sin…apart from the countless minor things I have done throughout my time on Earth, I wish I had said goodbye to my family. A simple text at the end of the messages she had spammed her parents, or the voice memos she had left her brother saying a proper ‘Goodbye.’

Cosette considered that of all things, her greatest sin.

She stood up, Lailah opening her eyes to look at her. The fae’s dark hair looked a dark shade of blue under the lighting, with a couple moths finding their resting spots within Lailah’s locks.

“I will be going.” Cosette said quietly so as not to disturb her too much, “Thank you so much for showing me the shrine and letting me pray here.”

“We welcome anyone who is curious.” she responded, accompanying Cosette back to the front door, trying not to move her head too much so as not to disturb the moths, “I am glad you decided to stop by Cosette. Perhaps this will encourage you to go to a shrine back in Winter Court.” she gave her a slightly pointed look.

“I will make sure to pay my respects to the Spirit of Winter as well.” Cosette gave a small bow, unsure how one was supposed to pay respect to the shrine maidens, “Thank you again.”

“Have a safe rest of your trip.”

As much as the Rainbow of Verlaris was gorgeous, Cosette couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“Sorry love, but it's a trade secret. I can’t show you how I weave my baskets.” the woman gave her an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Cosette smiled back.

This was the twentieth one. Guess I should have expected this strong of a resistance to not share how products are made.

Cosette let out a small sigh, continuing her walk through the colorful neighborhood.

At least, this lady was nice. The last vendor I asked practically chased me away with a broomstick.

She didn’t let it get her down though, the paper bag she carried crinkled slightly as it brushed against her dress.

If they didn’t want to tell me, I would just figure it out myself!

Cosette had purchased several woven items from various vendors: two baskets of different shapes, and a hair ornament meant to ward off malicious spirits by sensing their aura. The prices were a bit steep but she was certain they would be worth it.

Albeit, Cosette was doubtful of how well a hair accessory could protect someone just by detecting bad vibes.

Despite all this, she still had hope that she could find a faerie willing to explain the weaving process to her. In particular how it related to magic and runes.

Having actual instructions would speed up the process of creating a new prototype since deciphering how the artifacts were created in the first place is time consuming. I am not looking forward to having to work backwards on these works of art side by side with Theo.

Not that Cosette judged the artisans; who would willingly give up a trade secret? Besides, as she continued exploring the neighborhood, despite its clear beauty, certain areas stuck out. Boarded windows, active construction: all signs of the war with Hybern. It made sense why everyone was so on edge. Their city and court were weakened yet borders were open to complete strangers.

Even Velaris wasn’t safe from the aftereffects. Though, they didn’t seem to have much problem with acquiring produce in the city. I wonder where they bought it from? Dawn or Day Court maybe? Thinking logically, they probably have a lot of trade amongst the solar courts.

Cosette made her way over to another stall, spotting tapestries hanging up for display.

Another target unlocked. Let’s hope it goes better than the rest.

She approached the vendor carefully, admiring the pieces on display. The works of art showed scenic images of Night Court’s nature or artistic sprawls of colors in various patterns and designs.”

“Your work is beautiful.” Cosette complimented, taking in the details on the tapestries.

“Well thank you.” the High Faerie’s black hair shifted as she smiled at her new potential customer, her gray eyes watching her movements.

Cosette carefully touched the blankets on display, “They’re so soft.”

“I make them with the highest quality threads Velaris has to offer.”

“How high does that make the price then?” Cosette blurted out.

The faerie laughed, “Certainly on the higher end, but I have some more affordable options if you’re interested.”

Cosette shook her head, “No thank you, I am looking for something more along the lines of your tapestries.”

“Well, you’re in luck! I have many of those.” she smiled, showing some more of her woven works, “What is your name dear?”

“I am Cosette.”

“Nice to meet you, I am Aranea.”

Cosette’s face lit up.

Yes! A character! An actual character with a direct connection to the main cast! And not just anyone in the main cast, Feyre of all people!

Cosette was choosing not to count Kallias, Viviane or Eris. The first two still had an unclear relationship with the Night Court as far as she knew, and the Autumn fae was someone she never wanted to see again.

“Do your tapestries contain magical properties?” Cosette continued the conversation with new found vigor.

“No dear, I just weave for the sake of beauty.”

Admirable, but unfortunately not as useful. Though, I was certain that ‘void’ tapestry of hers was supposed to be magical, was it not?

“Could I purchase one of your smaller pieces?” Cosette asked.

Another time when she had tried to purchase a piece after asking how it was made, the faerie guessed what she was trying to do and threatened her to leave before he called guards on her.

“Of course!” Aranea happily sold her a tapestry of Night Court’s mountains.

Cosette mourned her steadily emptying wallet.

Thank goodness me and Ophelia budgeted before this because 20 gold for a small tapestry that I will have to unravel would have been complete bonkers if no thought had been put into my spending for this trip.

“Wow, it’s just so beautiful.” Cosette murmured, playing up her fascination slightly, “Would it be possible for you to show me how you make your tapestries?”

“No, sorry dear, unfortunately I can’t.” Aranea smiled.

“Ah, it’s okay, I understand.”

“May I ask why you’re so curious?”

“Oh…well…in truth, I am from Winter Court and am currently working on a project that is meant to help our crops grow better...” Cosette mustered up the best downcast, puppy eyes she could, “Unfortunately nothing we have tried has worked, and no one here is willing to speak on the subject.”

It always worked on my parents. Hell, even my brother would concede to me when I used the forbidden power.

Cosette followed up with a compliment, “The reason I came to Velaris was to seek guidance. I heard you had some of the best weavers so I just knew I had to come here.”

The speech seemed to have somewhat worked as Aranea looked at her with sympathy.

“That is quite terrible, I am so sorry to hear that. Around here we’re also still rebuilding from the war with Hybern, I can only imagine how bad it is in areas where the larger battles took place.”

Cosette nodded.

The buildings seemed to have been fixed pretty quickly over the two years, but that’s in the nicer areas. If one were to look at streets with less guards patrolling, or even the spot we went with Theo, that would be enough to spot the abandoned buildings and the less than fortunate businesses.

“Say, are you free tomorrow at noon?”

“Yeah, I should be.”

“You’re welcome to come visit an art studio at which I teach free weaving classes. We have a class tomorrow at that time if you’re interested.”

“That would be amazing, thank you so much!” Cosette beamed, practically hugging the faerie.

Aranea laughed lightly, “My pleasure dear, I’ll see you tomorrow then, alright?”

Cosette nodded eagerly.

Finally, a proper stepping stone.

Cosette walked away after getting the art studio’s address, enjoying the scenery, passing by other tents full of pottery, paintings and other creations.

By any luck, I might even get to meet Feyre!

Cosette acknowledged that it was somewhat of a pipedream. Even if Feyre taught art classes, the likelihood that they would cross paths during a weaving class wasn’t likely. She was High Lady after all.

As she made her way through the Rainbow she re-entered a main street, spotting a bookshop across the road.

Perfect.

Cosette’s heels clicked against the cobblestone, as she carefully crossed the street, avoiding the wagons, carriages and other faeries passing through. She stepped inside, determined to find something about the Spirits.

I’ll check in Winter Court when I get home, but it’s quite possible that they have a different selection here that’s not available back there.

Browsing the store, Cosette migrated deeper into its depth, walking past softly shattering faeries and shelves lined with various books from politics to baking, towards the section labeled ‘Beliefs of Prythian’.

It should be called ‘Belief of Prythian’, these are all on the same subject.

Cosette gently ran a finger down the spines of the books, selecting a ‘The Ways of Spirit Worship’ and a large tome labeled ‘The History of Prythian’s Spirits and Traditions’.

“Excuse me.” a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?” Cosette turned, to be greeted by a beautiful golden-brown haired woman, with sun-kissed skin and brown eyes so warm that they could melt the harshest winters.

“May I ask what perfume you are wearing? It’s absolutely delightful.”

“Oh, it’s actually one of my own creations.”

“Really? Are you a perfumer?”

“Sure am!” Cosette grinned.

“May I know your shop’s name so I can visit sometime?”

“It’s ‘Serene Fragrances’, however it’s located in Winter Court.”

“Winter Court?!”

Seeing the woman deflate slightly Cosette pulled out a small vial and handed it to her.

Three cheers for Ophelia’s foresight.

“Here, I brought samples with me just in case. This is goldenberry, the scent that I am wearing right now.”

Cosette had been experimenting back home with adding some of the perfumes she had created to the scent she used to conceal her human smell. According to Ophelia, the added perfume didn’t mitigate xeranthemum’s effectiveness.

I am very careful when it comes to modifying the scent currently protecting me, but if I never wear other perfumes, faeries might get suspicious. Ophelia said I smell fine, so I should be safe.

“Oh wow, can I really have this?”

“Of course.” Cosette smiled, “If you ever get the chance, I would be happy to have you at my perfumery back in Winter Court of course.”

“I will be sure to visit when I can. What’s your name Miss?”

“Cosette, and yours?”

“Elain, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

Cosette’s brain stopped working upon hearing the name.

Elain.

This is Elain.

THE Elain.

“Is everything okay Miss Cosette?”

“Absolutely fine!” Cosette quickly responded, “When you say Elain, do you mean Elain Archeron?”

“Oh, um…yes.” Elain’s face fell slightly upon hearing the last name, although she tried to smile through it.

Wait, she’s with the inner circle do I bow? Is there a sign of respect I am supposed to give??

“Elain, there you are, I lost you after you ran off from the counter.” a man with dark hair and massive Illyrian wings approached the duo. His hazel eyes remained unchanged as they met Cosette’s nervous green ones.

“Oh, I am sorry Azriel. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“It seems your training is going well if you’re sneaking off this effectively.”

“Haha, well I have the best teachers in all the land, no?”

On second thought, Cosette wasn’t prepared for this.

“Azriel, meet Cosette. She’s a perfumer from Winter Court.”

Do I need to bow to Azriel?!

“Ah, Miss Cosette of Serene Fragrances I presume? I heard about you when we last visited Winter Court for the Winter Solstice celebration. Mor tried to purchase a perfume from you.”

When did Morrigan try to purchase a perfume from me?

Seeing Cosette’s confusion Azriel’s lips twisted into a small smirk, “Unfortunately she got held up and never got to place her order.”

Cosette wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Have you ever been in Velaris before?” Elain asked.

“No, this is my first time.” Cosette said.

“Then we must show you around! Right Az?”

Azriel nodded, still watching Cosette silently as Elain took the blonde’s hand and led her back out into the street, after she purchased her books.

“Me and Azriel have been out and about for a while now and are ready for some lunch, are you feeling hungry Cosette?”

“Yes actually, I think I am ready for some food.”

Unsure if I’ll eat anything considering that you two are making my stomach complete Olympic level gymnastics, but I appreciate the thought.

Cosette and Azriel let Elain steer them to a cozy cafe, filled with various plants, flowers and trees. Despite the fact that it was only 5, the sky looked like it was much later in the evening. The stars, now fully visible, shone brightly and the city showed no signs of slumber.

“How do the plants grow here?” Cosette ordered a cup of blackcurrant tea and a sandwich, gently poking the Purple and shimmering blue flowers decorated the tables. Leaning in closer, Cosette could see that the petals were fluffy, and the inside was filled with a blue powder.

Elain and Azriel sat across from her with their own drinks and snacks, a few shopping bags resting by Azriel’s feet. Dark vines slithered down the walls of the establishment, with leaves akin to flower petals.

“It’s actually quite interesting!” Elain’s face lit up, “The plants here have two stages throughout the day, one is when they take the limited energy they can from the sun, and the rest of the time they rely on starlight!”

“Starlight? Is that really enough?” Cosette sipped her tea.

Azriel nodded, “It is, but due to it some of the plants have stranger shapes compared to what most other court dwellers would consider the norm.”

Cosette nodded, “They certainly are unusual compared to Winter Court.”

She recalled the palace garden Viviane had invited her to have tea in.

Flowers have become expensive, especially ones that would grow during spring. The market had been filled more and more with crystal-like flowers and branches.

I might need to consider raising prices on the existing perfumes and switching to making perfume with the native Winter Court flowers to not lose customers.

“If I may ask, what are you doing all the way in Night Court?” Azriel asked, but his tone screamed that it was a command.

“I am a tourist.” Cosette said simply.

Something told her she shouldn’t go talking about how she berated every artisan in the Rainbow about their weaving techniques.

Azriel hummed, gently swirling his black coffee with a teaspoon, watching the ripples spread.

Elain added some sugar to her black tea, “How many days are you here for?”

“Only three, technically two and a half as I’ll be leaving midway on the third day.”

“That’s so little time, you won’t be able to see all that Velaris has to offer, you should stay for longer!” Elain said.

Cosette had to admit the offer was tempting, but as of this moment she had obligations back in Winter Court she couldn’t abandon, and she had no guarantee that the inner circle would actually get close to her, or let her near the dead trove. God forbid use the dead trove for her since there was no way she could without severe consequences.

“I am afraid I can’t, I have people waiting for me back in Winter Court.” Cosette smiled apologetically.

“Aww, that’s unfortunate.” Elain nodded sadly, but with understanding in her eyes, “Do you have any areas you want to visit?”

“Hmm, well I visited the Rainbow today, along with a shrine. I also signed up for a weaving class run by one of the vendors.” Cosette tapped her chin, “I guess I would love to try some native Night Court food, if you have any suggestions for where I should go?”

“Well, how about we show you around tomorrow? We can join you for the weaving class too and then go from there!” Elain offered.

“Oh, I would appreciate that, thank you.” Cosette beamed.

A tour given by the main cast? Sign me up!

“Who is teaching the class?” Azriel took a swig of his coffee.

“Aranea.”

“Oh! So it’s at Feyre’s studio!” Elain clapped her hands together, “You’ll love it there. Everyone is kind and welcoming.”

Cosette took a sip of her tea, doing her best to practice the etiquette listed off in the books Viviane permitted her to borrow.

I should probably return those soon.

“I really wanted to visit you during the Winter Solstice, but unfortunately didn't get the chance.” Elain confessed, “I was curious, how did you get the idea of starting your business?”

“Well, the perfumes sold in Winter Court are different from mine, so I wanted to diversify the market.” Cosette answered politely.

She could swear Azriel laughed quietly at her statement.

“Did you bring other perfume samples with you?”

“Yes, I brought our entire collection.” Cosette pulled out a sample vial of the vanilla, cinnamon, mahogany teakwood, and goldenberry perfumes, “There’s not many at the moment, but I am working on creating new additions to the catalog.”

“What scent are you working on at the moment?” Elain sniffed the teakwood one.

“I am afraid I cannot tell you, it would ruin the surprise.” Cosette winked.

“Do you do custom perfumes?” Azriel spoke up.

“Yes I do.”

“Any notable customers?”

“I made custom perfumes for Viviane, Kallias and Solene.” Cosette felt bad, as if she was bragging.

Azriel picked up the goldenberry scent, taking a small whiff, “Is this the scent you’re wearing now?”

“Yep!”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing.

Oh please tell me this man will sniff me out.

“Would you like one?” Cosette offered, a bit nervous.

Azriel shook his head.

Right, makes sense, why would a spymaster want to wear a distinct scent?

“What is your favorite perfume?” Elain asked.

“I am partial to the scent of cinnamon.”

“Do you hire a lot of employees?”

“Not really, it’s just me and two other faeries.”

These are all very business oriented questions, is this an interview?

“Would you ever consider moving your business to Night Court?”

“Well, maybe not move permanently, but expanding as a branch could be interesting.”

“Expand? But wouldn’t that be hard to manage?”

Cosette shrugged, “Merchants manage their trade routes, I see no reason why this wouldn’t be plausible.”

Elain nodded, “I guess that makes sense.”

Azriel merely hummed, chugging the coffee.

Cosette hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed when she checked the grandfather clock standing in the corner - 7:30 pm.

“I should go.” Cosette stood up, “It’s getting late and I would like to get back to the ship I came on before any of the crewmembers began to worry.”

“We can walk you there!” Elain offered, quickly standing up.

“No need.” Cosette declined, “I appreciate the offer though.”

You have berated me for the past two and a half hours, and although I do want to get close to you, this feels a bit too intrusive for my tastes.

“It’s unsafe traveling by yourself this late in the evening.” Azriel said.

“I thought Velaris was a safe haven though?”

Oh my, I am practically blushing, are you worried about me Azriel??

“It is, but you can never be too careful.”

Talk about being paranoid.

“Besides, the conversation was flowing so nicely, it would be a shame for it to stop.” he looked at Elain with a soft smile who practically sparkled back at him.

Ah, tis not me you’re worried about.

“Thank you for spending time with me.” Cosette bowed, at which Elain giggled lightly, “I look forward to meeting you both tomorrow.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Azriel said, “Please get back to your ship safely, Miss Cosette.”

On second thought perhaps Cosette should have taken Elain’s offer as she only got back to the ship in the late evening, by which point the sky had turned a dark indigo color and the stars were shining like brilliant jewels.

“What the hell happened to you?” Linus was relaxing on a chair on the deck of the ship, watching a couple of the smaller sailboats still catch fish, despite the late time, “You look like you just survived a war.”

You have no idea brother, I have just returned from the trenches.

“I got lost on the way back.”

“Ha, stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“There are literally street signs?”

“I still got lost.”

“Exactly, so the title ‘stupid’ is deserved.”

“Hm, then the title of ‘asshole’ is equally earned.” Cosette walked away, heading to the cabin where they were staying.

Once she got changed there was a knock on her door, and Amelio’s voice, “Cosette? Are you back?”

“Yeah.” she opened the door after straightening out her new dress, “I just got back.”

“Good, I was about to send out some of my men to go looking for you. You shouldn’t stay out too late by yourself.”

“The streets were still full of faeries.”

“Still, you can never be too safe in a new environment.”

You have a point.

Seeing Cosette concede with a smile, Amelio relaxed slightly, “We’re having dinner with the whole crew on the deck, are you hungry?”

She nodded, after all, getting lost in Velaris was extremely tiresome and she deserved a meal for all her troubles. Cosette followed Amelio back up to the surface of the ship where faeries had already set up tables with food. Cosette sat down opposite Linus, both of them sitting by Amelio who was at the head of the table.

“Where is Solene?” Cosette asked.

“She’s staying at the House of Wind and won’t be coming back until the last day.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Did I not mention it? She’s coming to negotiate the import tax with Rhysand and Feyre on behalf of Kallias and Viviane. Well, it’s likely she’ll be negotiating with Morrigan or Amren rather than the High Lord of Night himself.”

“Right…” Cosette nodded.

Well, good thing I didn’t get my hopes up about Feyre. She’ll probably be busy.

“How did your day go?”

“Productive. Linus did a great job coordinating everyone.” Amelio nodded, starting with his salad, “He even managed to secure additional trade agreements with a few of the restaurants.”

Linus’s ears went red, “It was nothing…”

“How about you?” Amelio turned back to Cosette.

“It went alright. Shock of all shocks no one wanted to tell me their strategy for creating magical artifacts.” Cosette began eating her soup.

“Almost like they want to stay in business.” Amelio chuckled.

“Indeed.” she laughed, “I did manage to find a faerie, her name is Aranea, and she offers classes on weaving. I also bought some smaller pieces from various artists as examples for us back home.”

Amelio nodded approvingly.

“I also met Elain and Azriel today.” Cosette dropped a bomb that exploded into thunderous silence at the dinner table.

“You’re just…a magnet for interesting people aren’t you?” Amelio looked at her.

I didn’t choose this life! The magnet life chose me!!

“You met Azriel? The Night Court’s spymaster?” Linus leaned in, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, “What was he like?”

Cosette shrugged, “Quiet and reserved. He was hanging out with Elain when she approached me about my perfumes.” she looked up at Linus, “What do you have to say about my fragrance water now?”

“At least they’re useful socially.”

That’s all?!

“Still think it’s not that hard to make something smell good though.”

Amelio frowned at Linus.

“Go visit the Night Court perfumeries, then we’ll talk about high quality products.”

“If you’re so confident Linus, maybe you and Cosette should switch jobs for a day once we return to Winter Court.” Amelio took a swig of his wine.

“What?!”

“It seems I’ve been too lax on your ego.” Amelio smiled, making Cosette shiver

Something felt off. His smile was usually warm, but this one felt…

As soon as the feeling came it was gone. Cosette felt herself breathe normally again.

“Sorry sir.” Linus murmured, turning back to his food, avoiding Cosette’s gaze.

I feel like I did something wrong…

“Anything else you want to tell us?” Amelio joked, “Perhaps you had tea with another one of the other Archeron sisters while you were at it?”

“I got to stop by a shrine for the Spirit of Night.” Cosette replied, still trying to meet Linus’s gaze, but he adamantly refused.

“Hmm, yes, their shrines here are quite different from ours back home.” Amelio mused.

“So, about that, are we required to go? To the shrines, back in Winter Court?”

“Wait, have you never gone?” Linus stared at her incredulously, “You’re kidding.”

“I’ve been really busy since arriving at the capital and haven’t gotten a chance to…”

“No excuse!” Linus practically screeched, “If our boat crashes it’s because of yo-”

“Linus.” Amelio’s stern voice interrupted, “Don’t.”

Linus faltered once more, returning to his plate.

“As for your question Cosette, no, you aren’t required to go, although it is encouraged.” Amelio’s tone softened.

“Are there any laws regarding this?”

“Again, no, you’re welcome to go when you are able to. Kallias and Viviane removed the requirements to attend shrine gatherings officially once Kallias returned from under the mountain.” Amelio’s calm demeanor helped soothe their side of the table, “Most faeries go simply out of respect and tradition. Plus, it would never hurt to have a little extra support in your corner.” he winked.

“Right.” Cosette nodded, Linus’s comment worrying her slightly.

Amelio rolled his eyes, “Our boat won’t sink Cosette just because you didn’t go to a shrine. To truly be in trouble with the spirits you would have had to offend them. Being too busy to go, while contributing to the betterment of their court is not the thing that will set them off.”

“You say that as if you know what they’re thinking.” Cosette noted dryly.

“For once we agree.” Linus said, “If I were a spirit I’d take offense to it.”

“You’d take offense to anything.” she quipped back.

But if we look at most legends, deities, spirits, you name it, tend to be volatile in unpredictable ways. Linus’s concern is valid.

“How did the court react to the change Kallias and Viviane made?”

“Ha, depends on who you ask Cosette.” Amelio smirked.

Ah. I see.

“It wasn’t a favored response, and a risky move by the two of them. Many faeries turned to rather fervent worship during Amarantha’s reign. Making shrine gathering an optional, personal decision, was a slap in the face to some.”

“Because the moment they make it optional faeries won’t go and then you have unhappy spirits and a court that is falling apart because they cannot agree on a belief system.” Linus retorted.

Amelio shook his head, “Faeries still go to ceremonies and regularly provide offerings. Can you name a household that has truly forsaken the faith?”

Linus made a dramatic motion towards Cosette.

“Well that’s not fair, Cosette is not technically from Winter Court. The Faerie Realms may worship some other spirits.”

“Decline of worship and belief is a valid fear. If our borders are open and we’re diluted by nonbelievers, how will that make the Spirit of Winter happy?”

“Beforehand faeries could be persecuted for not showing up to gatherings or events. Innocent faeries were beheaded Linus.” Amelio’s voice wasn’t harsh, but firm, “The whole reason they changed it was because during Amarantha’s reign some faeries didn’t have access to a shrine and couldn’t go. Kallias and Viviane already lost enough of their citizens after the war, they don’t need more useless bloodshed being caused by their own court trying to snitch on each other.”

“I think it could also be a matter of principle; that people get a choice in what they want to worship or believe in.” Cosette pointed out.

Kallias and Viviane seem like they would stick up for such autonomy.

“Principles are great if they’re not actively making the court fall apart.” Linus muttered.

“Sometimes sticking to your beliefs is not without casualties.”

“But if it tears everyone apart, is it worth it? At what point are the casualties too much?”

“I already miss Solene, you two will be the death of me.” Amelio ruffled Linus’s hair, “Have you both considered becoming philosophers?”

“Philosophy doesn’t earn money.” they both said at the same time.

“Well, unless you're in Day Court. Then you’d be paid handsomely.” Amelio pointed out.

Paid? To yap? Sign me up!

Linus looked annoyed, “Don’t call their whole show ‘philosophy’, it’s a disgrace towards critical thinkers.”

“What’s wrong with Day Court’s philosophers?” Cosette asked.

Apart from Mister Aristippus ignoring the spirits, he seems like a cool dude.

Cosette gasped internally.

Is that the problem!? His lack of writings on spirits?

Amelio sighed as Linus began his tangent, “Day Court prides itself on being the court of knowledge and justice but all of their philosophers are on Helion’s payroll meaning that they literally cannot be completely free in their thoughts and opinions because they are sponsored by the court’s ruler. Now, there is no issue with Helion sponsoring skilled or smart faeries, in fact it’s a good thing. Their universities are so great because of the funding, but they deny it whenever faeries point out that their philosophers are actually extremely constricted in their opinions and beha-”

Linus unfortunately didn’t get to continue as a fellow Lesser Faerie approached him, slinging an arm around his shoulder, “We’re playing cards, Linus, Amelio, wanna join?”

“Absolutely.” Amelio dragged Linus away to the group of faes, with the white ash haired faerie squirming, trying to finish his thought.

Cosette giggled lightly, finishing her food, observing the faeries as they played cards. The sailors cursed and cheered whenever they lost or won. Amelio, although still maintaining an air of dignity seemed to relax, his expression more coy and voice louder than when he was with Solene. Linus also seemed to return back to normal, chatting with the cabin boy and a few of the other workers.

Cosette headed back to her room.

Gotta admit, it’s admirable how Amelio teaches Linus. I didn’t expect a faerie in Prythian to be that free thinking, and for his teacher to not only not censor, but encourage him.

Although, my surprise is unwarranted. Looking back at Earth’s history there were always people who were ahead of their time. Granted, they almost always got burnt at the stake.

On the other hand, Linus manages to be conservative in certain beliefs. Maybe that’s why he gets away with voicing his thoughts aloud? Because he still fits into the general status quo?

Getting to her room Cosette changed into her pajamas, redoing her braid before crawling into bed.

Now that I think about it, what were Azriel and Elain doing out and about if Solene is here to discuss trade? Maybe they’re not needed since Azriel’s job is not directly related to taxes, and Elain is just not involved?

Wait, were they on a date?! Did Rhysand cave and approve their union then?

Cosette shook her head.

It didn’t feel like I was third wheeling. I am sure it was nothing.

Cosette pulled out the ‘The History of Prythian’s Spirits and Traditions’, beginning to read it by candlelight. However, she didn’t get far before her drowsiness won out, and her eyes closed, plunging her into darkness.

Next: Chapter 32 -Behind Closed Doors

Back: Chapter 30 - Quiet, the Adults Are Talking

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