#a small sensible chuckle for myself

[skullfragments]

i see your "thousand eyes and wings" biblically accurate aziraphale and raise you "biblically accurate according to weird ass medieval illuminations" aziraphale (& bonus crowley)

inspired by this illuminated manuscript page depicting the story of adam and eve:

(i'm pretty sure tumblr fucked the quality on these do please click for full size😭)

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Chapter Two

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

chapter rating: M (no explicit smut but my blog is always 18+ ONLY, just one steamy makeout but the smut show begins next chapter so strap in 😎 as always, i cannot force myself to reread my own writing so this isn’t proofread)

word count: 4.9k

series masterlist | joel masterlist | joel playlist

It was Saturday afternoon, your book club meeting nearly wrapped for the day. You were delighted to see Sarah’s face, half-expecting both her and her father to forget about the meeting, but she was one of the first ones here.

Joel greeted you with a shy wave and a smile as he walked her into the small room in the corner of the library, his grey t-shirt and jeans fitting him far too well.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, both of your eyes trailing away to watch Sarah make a bee-line for the snack table. “That’s my fault, I forgot to make a grocery run.”

“That’s what they’re there for,” you waved off his worry and fixed your eyes on his again.

“I, uh, tried to keep up,” he held up his copy of Sense and Sensibility, surprising you with how far into the book his bookmark rested, not quite where the rest of you were but not too far off. “I don’t know about that Willoughby guy…somethin’ seems off.”

“Oh, yeah?” you chuckled, shifting your weight onto one hip and crossing your arms over your chest as you eagerly waited his assessment. Joel cracked a charming half smirk and nodded confidently.

“Yeah. No man is that perfect.” You snorted a laugh and eagerly agreed. “So I got it, then? He’s a bad guy?”

“No comment,” you replied with an untamable grin, something about his presence filling you with a girlish giddiness you hadn’t felt in years.

“Sarah!” Sarah’s new friend, Jessie, squealed when she entered the classroom and spotted her, causing both you and Joel to look over with proud smiles.

“This was a good idea,” Joel turned back to you. “Hadn’t realized how sheltered she was. It’s nice to see her have a friend.”

“We all deserve friends,” you noted.

“You know, if you ever need a friend…I’m right here,” he offered with a shrug, busying his eyes by looking down at the book he was holding.

“Would Sarah be okay with her dad and teacher being friends?” you asked, Sarah’s well-being your ultimate responsibility and priority over whatever you happened to be feeling for her father.

“Yeah, we, uh, talked about it…I may have made a comment about how pretty you are,” he chuckled in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. “And she’s been teasin’ me about it since.”

“Pretty, huh?” you smirked and relished in the blush you brought to his face, his eyes rolling as a husky chuckle slipped from his lips. “Well, Joel, if I ever need a friend, how can I go about getting in touch with you?”

“Right,” he nodded, frantically reaching into his pocket to pull out his flip phone, your lip caught between your teeth as you watched him struggle to find his phone number—of course he didn’t know it by heart. “Alright, you ready?”

You clicked your pen and pulled out your post-it note/bookmark, jotting down his number as he read it out to you.

“Are we gonna start or what?” Harriet snapped from her wheelchair, making both you and Joel laugh.

“I’ll be back to pick Sarah up at eleven,” he tapped his book with yours before walking out of the room, only stopping to place a kiss on his daughter’s forehead before disappearing, leaving your heart longing for more.

Taking a deep, necessary breath, you turned to the group and smiled. “Alright, how far did everybody get this week?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at your phone so goddamn much since you got the damn thing,” Tommy teased his older brother as they walked around their favorite H-E-B supermarket, Joel determined to surprise Sarah with a fully stocked fridge and pantry for once.

“Yeah,” Joel mumbled as he swore he felt a buzz in his pocket, tugging his flip phone out for the twentieth time since stepping inside the store, hoping to see a message or an incoming call from you.

“That the plummer for the project on 15th Street?” Tommy asked as he loaded a case of Gatorade into the bottom of the cart.

“No, it’s, uh—“ Joel was nervous, having gone so long without having a romantic life that he started to feel like a teenager again, too embarrassed by the weight of his crush to tell anybody. “Sarah’s at her book club so I’m just makin’ sure I don’t miss her call if she needs me to pick her up early.”

“And her ‘pretty’ teacher ain’t got nothin’ to do with that?” Tommy teased with a grin, amused by the look of betrayal and embarrassment on his older brother’s face.

“Sarah told ya, huh?”

“Yep,” Tommy laughed and took over pushing the cart. “You ask her out yet?”

“Not yet,” Joel sighed, the idea of going on a first date at his stage in life seeming ridiculous. What would they even do? Go to a movie? Go out to dinner? It all seemed too…cliche. “What do people even do for dates anymore?”

“Take her to Lady Bird Lake or a museum or somethin’. She’s a teacher, she’ll be into all that,” Tommy suggested. Joel nodded at the advice, making a mental note of it before being interrupted by the first actual ring of his phone all morning.

“Hello?” Joel answered the unsaved number with a hopeful heart.

“Joel?” your voice responded, bringing a smile to his face.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding more like himself. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chirped, but he could tell there was something you were holding back.

“Sarah’s okay, right?”

“Yes! Sarah’s alright, she’s waiting here with me—“Joel heard his daughter greet him in the background. “The meeting ended a bit early, and I was trying to start my car, but it looks like I have a dead battery. Is there anyway I could get a jumpstart?”

“Oh—yeah,” he mouthed to Tommy that they needed to go checkout, Tommy pushing the cart towards the registers without needing any further instruction. “We’re just checkin’ out at H-E-B, but I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

“No need to thank me. It’s what friends are for,” he hoped his attempt at playfulness didn’t fall flat, and judging by your chuckle, it hadn’t.

“That and lots of other things.” Joel’s heart sped up as he contemplated the other things. “See ya in a bit.”

“So,” Sarah started as she sat beside you in your well-used Ford Focus, the two of you reading as you waited for Joel to arrive. “You married?”

You laughed at her bluntness, looking over at her only to see her deadpanning. “No, I’m not married. Not anything.”

“Why not?” You laughed again, this time incredulously.

“I’ve been wondering that myself.” She didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, making you shrug and giggle again as you tossed your hands up. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the men I go after.”

“Like my dad?” You blushed and turned back to your book, finally pulling a laugh from the girl much wider than her years. “I think it would be cool if you two started to go out.”

“What makes you think we want to go out?” you challenged with a smirk, trying and failing to erase it from your face.

“I haven’t seen my dad try this hard since…well, ever,” she chuckled. “And both of you always have this stupid smile on your face after you see eachother. I’d say that’s a pretty big tell.”

“You’re too observant for your own good,” you noted as you felt your cheeks creep with heat, embarrassed that she’d caught you.

A few quick honks cut off the conversation, both of you stepping out of the hot car to greet Joel as he and another man pulled up in front of where you were parked. Joel climbed out of the passenger seat with a smile, striding over to both of you with two water bottles in hand, giving you each one.

“Drink up, it’s hot as hell today,” he commanded and both of you obeyed.

“Hey,” his companion stepped out of the drivers side and joined the three of you, giving you a nod. “I’m Tommy, Sarah’s uncle.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you,” you held your hand out for him to shake and he grinned mischievously.

“Likewise.” Your cheeks heated again despite the cold water bottle cooling you down.

“Mind if I pop the hood?” Joel pointed at your car, your head eagerly nodding in response. You watched him closely as he walked over to the drivers side, bending down to find the hood release. His shirt stretched over the broadness of his back, a line of sweat darkening the gray fabric down his spine. With a sudden thirst, you took a healthy chug of your water, hoping it would soothe the fire burning inside of you.

“Thank you guys,” you started as you turned to Tommy, needing to distract yourself from Joel.

“It’s no problem,” Tommy assured, his arm draped around Sarah’s shoulder. “How was, uh, book club?”

“Oh!” Sarah chimed, earning a furrowed brow look from her father as he walked over to the bed of the truck to grab some jumper cables. “Can I go over to Jessie’s house tonight? She’s having a sleepover—“

“I don’t know,” Joel exhaled as he returned. “I need to talk to her parents first.”

“I have their number,” you offered, pulling your phone out of your purse. “If you want it.”

“Sure,” he gave you a tired smile and trailed his eyes over your form properly for the first time since he arrived. Your hair that was once freely falling had now been put up, the sweat on the back of your neck causing your hair to stick to your skin in a way that bugged you. Your makeup was probably well into oily territory, your mascara smudged the last time you checked it in the car’s rearview mirror. The only thing half-presentable about you was the sundress you were wearing, it’s floral, cotton fabric flowing in the warm April breeze. “Uh,” he caught himself staring and quickly turned his gaze back to his daughter as he fished out his cellphone. “Here—you can type it in.”

After giving Sarah the phone number, she and Tommy retired back to the cool a/c in his truck, leaving you and Joel alone. An irresponsible thing for the two of you to be.

“Care to show me how it’s done,” you asked, unable to stop yourself from wanting more from him—more attention, more of his voice, more…everything. Being around him made you feel like you were burning alive, and yet strangely enough, the only time relief came to you was when you got closer to him.

“No one ever taught you how to jumpstart a car?” he teased with a smile, glancing over at you as he clamped the metal prongs onto the negative and positive sides.

“Not really,” you chuckled, pointing at the opposite colors. “So black goes on negative and red goes on positive?”

“Yep,” he nodded before pointing at the inside of the car. “Go on and try to start it up.”

“Just start it?” you asked, worried about messing up.

“Yep, like you normally do,” he encouraged you with a smile, watching you as you sat down in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. Both of you gasped at the sight and sound of your battery sparking and then smoking. “Shit.” He walked over to the now ruined battery and investigated as you came out to join him. “Wasn’t your fault, my cords must be fucked or somethin’. I’m sorry—just ruined your battery.” He sighed and gave you an apologetic look, but you were quick to brush it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” you placed your hand on his arm and watched as his head turned to look at the contact before locking his eyes with yours. You fought the urge to worship his biceps like your celibate and cavewoman-like hormones were urging you to and pulled your hand away. “I’ll just call a tow truck and have them tow me to an auto-shop.”

“They’ll take you for all you got.” He shook his head and gestured back at the truck. “We can take ya to go get a new battery for almost free.”

“Almost?” you chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, the only payment I ask for is maybe…a date?” He gave you a bashful but hopeful smile as he tucked his hands in his front pockets. “Maybe tonight?”

You stared at him with a widening grin, pleasantly surprised by his proposition. You hadn’t thought he’d make the first move, at least not this soon. Throwing caution to the wind, you nodded, your stomach fluttering as you watched him sigh in relief.

“Alright, well, let’s work on gettin’ you a new battery and go from there.” Joel waited for you as you locked your car up and joined him again, following him over to the backseat of his truck. He opened the door for you, giving you that warm smile that was beginning to feel like a drug as you climbed in beside Sarah.

Joel remained outside as he unhooked the cables from their working battery to your dead one, shutting the hood of the truck with a firm slam. He ungracefully hopped into the passenger seat, looking over at his brother.

“Take us down to the Autozone,” he ordered, Tommy glancing back at you with a raised brow and smile as he waited for his brother to use his manners. Joel sighed, “Please.”

“That’s better.”

It took under an hour to go get your new battery, bring it back to your car, and have Joel install it. As he bid you goodbye, he let you know he’d give you a call once he figures out a time for your date tonight, and you couldn’t help but beam with excitement.

The entire rest of the afternoon was spent going through your closet, taking the longest shower of your life, and fussing with your hair, wanting to be ready if Joel chose to be last minute with your plans—which normally would thoroughly turn you off, but you were weak when it came to Joel.

Thankfully, Joel called at three, asking if you’d like to join him for a walk at Lady Bird Lake. You eagerly accepted the offer, mildly surprised by the unconventional choice in date but not disappointed with it.

As you sat in the living room, you heard a car approach your house and moved to peek through your window, the same dark pick-up truck from earlier rolling into your driveway. You grinned as you watched him hop out of the drivers seat, dressed in a crisp white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He looked so masculine and broad, but there was something in the warmth of his smile, the deepness of his eyes, that showed he was soft, too.

Quickly heading to your front door, you opened it before he could knock, his look of surprise when you swung the door open turning into a smile as he took you in—a sage green wrap dress that fell between your ankles and knees, your makeup soft and complimentary, your smile knee-weakening.

“You look so pretty,” he complimented softly, as though you weren’t meant to hear it. “Uh, got these for you.”

Joel handed you a bouquet of yellow daisies and you gave him a touched frown, kissing your teeth as you pressed the petals to your nose.

“This is very sweet,” you gave him a smitten grin and gestured back into your house. “Let me just go put these in some water. You’re welcome to come in.”

“Alright,” he followed you into your house and down the hall to your kitchen, his eyes scanning the scene as though your home would reveal some hidden secret about you. “This is a nice place.”

“Thanks,” you replied as you filled a vase with water at the sink. “I found it for a really good price last summer, and now the owner’s gonna sell it to me.”

“Take it you like Austin then. You from around here?” He asked, leaning his hip against the counter.

“Nope,” you continued to tell him where you were from. “But I do love it here. Besides, I’m getting older. Seems like a good investment.”

“Old,” he repeated with a smirk. “You ain’t nowhere near old. Me on the other hand—“

“You’re what, mid-thirties?”

“33,” he corrected. “But my body is pushin’ seventy.”

“You haven’t heard the way my bones crack when I get up every morning,” you joked, earning a laugh.

“We’ll just have to be gentle with each other, then,” Joel quipped, not taking much time to think before he spoke. He internally cringed at the way you looked away and chuckled awkwardly, scolding himself for his stupid joke.

“Hopefully not too gently.” You shot him a wink and every worry of his faded into oblivion. “Alright, then, shall we?”

“Yeah,” Joel swallowed his desire and walked you out to the truck, helping you into your side before seating himself. “You ever been to the lake?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Is it pretty out there?”

“It’s pretty, but you’re gonna give it a run for it’s money in that dress,” he flirted, shooting you a glance and a peek at the smile he was wearing proudly. Your cheeks turned hot at his compliment and you rolled your eyes, grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“You’re a flirt,” you pointed out.

“Me?” He laughed. “I haven’t flirted in…shit, I don’t know how long it’s been.”

“Well, you’re a natural, then,” you nudged his arm with your elbow and felt dizzy by the sparks shooting through your nerves by the simple contact.

“Sarah gave me a run down of things I should and shouldn’t do tonight,” he filled you in.

“Oh yeah? What are the do’s?” you implored with an amused smile, watching his profile as he drove.

“Pay, open doors, and ask questions,” he replied.

“And dont’s?” Joel chuckled and shook his head.

“She said I’m not supposed to kiss you until the second date.” You scoffed and waved that thought away. “You disagree?”

“Strongly,” you answered him with a laugh, Joel laughing along with you.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind, then.” He shot you a wink and you felt like your heart was being shocked back to life. “I haven’t been on a date in so long. You gotta let me know if I’m fuckin’ this up.”

“You’re doing just fine, trust me,” you assured. “I can’t tell you the amount of shitty dates I’ve gone on, so the bar isn’t very high for you tonight.”

“Well, that’s sad,” he chuckled and shot you a lingering look as he stopped at a red light. “Hopefully I can break this streak of shitty dates.”

“I think you’ve already done it,” you laughed. “I mean, I can’t think of a first date that sacrificed hours of his life to replace my car battery on a Saturday afternoon.”

“You’re right, I’m setting the bar high,” he chuckled and shrugged. “Gonna have to change your oil next time just to keep up my reputation, then for the third date maybe rotate your tires—“

“Are these euphemisms?” you asked with mischief in your smile, not knowing the way you made his heart speed up with it.

“You make me nervous,” he admitted with a smile, his cheeks flushed pink. When he turned to look at you, he saw a bitten smirk, his head shaking. “That amuse you?”

“A little,” you nodded.

“Callin’ me a flirt,” he shook his head in mock scolding. “Look at you.”

After your leisurely walk in the park—the green of the grass and array of colors from the flowers and butterflies swarming in the air just as beautiful as Joel attempted to describe it on the way over—you and Joel found yourselves outside of an ice cream shop, sharing a chocolate and strawberry sundae.

“How are you not terrified every day? I only have Sarah to look out for and I can hardly manage, I can’t imagine a class full of ‘em,” Joel spoke, watching you as you spooned the last bit of the ice cream into your mouth.

“It’s scary at first, but then you develop this sort of bond with them—it just happens naturally, and it makes you feel responsible for them. You know? It’s just like…I feel a responsibility to show them some peace and understanding, because who knows what they have going on at home. I show up for them because I might be the only person that’s doing that, you know?” You shrugged, trying not to read into the way he was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, his posture relaxed as he sat back in the metal patio chair. “You gotta stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He chuckled, amused by your fluster.

“Like that.” You gestured at his head. “You know exactly what you’re doing, giving me those pretty brown eyes—“

Joel’s laugh cut you off, his head shaking. “I’m just listening to you talk, I have no control over my pretty brown eyes.”

“Mmhm,” you rolled your eyes and chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

“I, uh—Sarah’s away tonight. If you wanted to come over—“ Joel watched as you lifted an eyebrow. “Not for that—well, I mean—but I just meant to continue talking. We have a pool—“

“Why didn’t you start with that?” You stood upright and snapped your fingers at him, earning a grin. “Chop, chop, Mr. Miller.”

Joel made a pit stop at your place so that you could change into a swimsuit, throwing your dress back on over it before hurrying back out to the truck. Once inside his house, you found yourself studying the scene much like he had earlier at yours. It felt almost unreal to be in his space, the intimacy of walking the same halls he walked every morning and night turning you drunk.

“Pools out back, I’m gonna grab us some beers.” You nodded at him as he broke off towards the kitchen while you kept forward towards the sliding glass door to his patio.

Pulling the door open, you were surprised to see a rather nice little backyard set up. He draped yellow string lantern lights in zig zags from fence to fence, illuminating the pool and patio table.

“Here you go,” Joel appeared from behind you, handing you a beer before walking over to the table and taking a seat. You joined him, giving him an expectant but playful smirk as you entered a staring match. “What’s got you smilin’ like that?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, turning your grin towards the pool. “I’m just having a good time.”

Joel’s chest swole with pride at your confession.

“You wanna get in? It’s heated.” You gave him an impressed up and down, making him chuckle.

“Fancy,” you teased as you stood up, avoiding his eyes as your hands found the knot holding your wrap dress together. Before you could move to untie the knot, Joel’s hands rested over yours, his body now standing tall in front of you. Your eyes shot up to meet his and your breath faltered, his lips just a few inches away.

“May I?” Joel asked for permission as he replaced your fingers on the knot with his own. You gave him a quick nod, your lips parting as you waited with bated breath for him to undress you. Joel slipped the knot undone, the dress falling open. His eyes traveled from your face down the front of your body as he slid the dress off your shoulders, leaving you in just your swimsuit. His hands were quick to touch your skin, a soft gasp spilling from your lips at the fire his skin on yours caused. “You’re too beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” you praised, lifting your hand to cup his bearded cheek. Joel’s lips curled up at the sound of your compliment, his hands giving your waist a squeeze. “Remember that rule we talked about breaking earlier?”

“Uh-huh,” Joel nodded, leaning in to fill the gap between your lips until he was crashing into you, your fingers threading into his hair as you accepted the attack. Joel moaned as you tugged on his hair, walking you back against the table and hoisting you onto the metal. “You taste so sweet, baby.”

“I want you,” you whined, earning a growl of desperation as he licked and sucked his way down to your neck, fighting the urge to leave his mark on you.

“Hey, neighbor?” Joel’s older neighbor called from over the fence, interrupted their heated makeout. He sighed and rested his forehead on your shoulder as he tried to gather his composure enough to form a response.

“Yep?” Joel called back.

“Your girl’s locked out, just came knockin’ on our door.” Joel’s brows furrowed and he immediately straightened up, his eyes apologetic as he handed you your dress.

“Thanks,” he called back before placing a kiss on your cheek. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” you assured as you tied your dress, the throbbing between your thighs persistent but the sound of him calling you baby was a more-than sufficient distraction, filling your stomach with butterflies.

You sat back down at the table and waited until Joel came back out, your fingers drawing hearts on the dust covering the table. When you caught yourself, you scoffed, disgusted by the cutesy feelings filling you to the brim, and wiped the table with your palm. Walking over to the edge of the pool, you rinsed the dust off and listened as the glass door slid open.

“Hey,” Sarah greeted, her voice nearly making you fall into the water as you weren’t expecting it. “How was the date?”

You stood up and chuckled, ignoring her question by changing the subject. “How was it at Jessie’s?”

“It was good, just didn’t want to spend the night,” she informed as she sat on one of the patio chairs, swinging her feet.

“Where’s your dad?” You weren’t sure what to say to her and desperately wanted Joel to come out to help carry the burden of this awkward tension.

“Using the bathro—“

“Nope,” he interrupted as he stepped outside, mouthing an apology to you as he walked over to her and kissed her head. “Can you go inside for a second?”

“Sure thing,” Sarah gave you a knowing smile as she left the two of you alone, closing the glass door behind her.

“Sorry,” he stepped to you, placing his hands on either side of you face. “Don’t think we’re gonna get to continue that tonight.”

“It’s alright,” you rubbed his chest.

“When can I see you again?” he asked, eyes full of reverence as he looked at you.

“Whenever,” you shrugged, pinching his chin. “I’m free after five every night.”

“I’ll try to talk Tommy into babysitting on Friday.” You grinned at his suggestion and nodded your head. “Lemme grab Sarah and we’ll drive you home.”

“Wait—“ You stopped him before he could get too far, tugging him down for a deep kiss, his arms wrapping around you and squeezing you so tight that you hoped it would last all week until you saw him next, but the minute he let go of you, you already missed him. “One more kiss.”

“One more,” he repeated as he kissed you again, slow, deep, and lingering, the two of you procrastinating. Finally, you gathered the will to pull away, chuckling at your breathlessness. “Alright, if we don’t stop now, I’m just gonna keep on torturin’ myself.”

“Not into that?” you quipped seductively, tilting your head at him as you tucked your hands into the back pockets of his jeans to pull him closer. Joel chuckled and shook his head at you as though you were testing every ounce of his strength.

“I’m gonna have my hands full with you, aren’t I?” he husked, leaning back in to place a feather-light kiss to your lips as you responded with a grin.

“Your hands are already pretty full, wouldn’t you say?” Joel laughed against you and gave your ass a squeeze, his palms having already been firmly planted there.

“Oh, I like you,” Joel hummed, pecking your lips once more before pulling away. “Here,” Joel handed you his keys before pinching your chin. “Start the truck up and I’ll go get Sarah.”

“Sure thing,” you beamed as you watched him start towards the house, stopping him once more with your voice. “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too.” You and Joel stood there lovestruck, a chuckle slipping from his lips as he struggled to find the strength to take you back home, not ready for the night to be over. But knowing that the best things come to those who wait, Joel took a breath of patience and smiled.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

[alittlerobin]

Roger/Kate

tags: nsfw; oral, face-fucking, intercrural, dacryphilia, rough play word count: 2.3k

She stood outside the door to the lab, wringing her hands into her skirts as she worked up the nerve to go inside. 

Not like it mattered. She couldn’t just turn around and leave, because he’d already know she was there. She knew he always listened to her footsteps, to her heartbeat, knowing exactly when she approached and when she shied away. If she left now, she’d doubtlessly hear him calling out to her, that smooth and cocky voice telling her to stop fretting and get her butt inside. 

Squaring her shoulders, she pressed her hands against the door and pushed it open. There was no point knocking, anyway. Roger sat at his main lab table, his gaze trained on a thick stack of notes. He didn’t react, but he would’ve known she was coming to see him the moment her foot took the first step down into the basement. 

She crossed the room halfway, then stopped, staying out of reach. Except Roger didn’t look at her. He simply kept scribbling on the page, the pencil lead scratching the paper with each quick stroke. 

It was her choice to come here. Her choice to ask him for help. But… come on, couldn’t he catch the hint and let her off easy for once?

She huffed, cheeks puffed out and pouty… and was rewarded with a quiet chuckle.

“Need something, lil lady?”

Yes. She did.

She’d been stressed, frustrated. During the last mission, her mistake had gotten Jude stabbed. And no matter how much Ellis insisted it would’ve happened regardless, it didn’t help. She was definitely better now than when she’d joined Crown, stronger, more sensible, but… it wasn’t enough. She wanted to do more, help more, fight more—and when she failed, it made her angry with herself, with no real outlet for it.

“......I need to cry.”

The pencil dropped. “Oh.”

“But I can’t make myself cry, no matter what I try right now, so…” She kept her gaze down, watching the floor as she spoke, but she heard the scraping of the stool as Roger pushed it back. She didn’t need to look up to know he would be staring at her in anticipation. “...Will you make me cry?”

“And that’s already my reward for helping out, yeah?”

A small smile cracked the corners of her lips. He tried to play it off, but she didn’t need his ability to hear the hitch in his breath. “I’ll remind you that right now, you owe me a favor, not the other way around.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. She didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, his feet were on the floor before her and her chin was being lifted. 

Roger cradled her face in his large hands and stroked a thumb across her cheek. His touch was gentle, almost curious, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “You wanna be more specific about how I can make you cry?”

She… couldn’t say it out loud. Even if she’d managed to bring herself here, she wasn’t sure if she could string those words together. If she could ask him outright, plead for him to be rough like always, to make it seem like he was taking what he wanted by force when they both knew how down bad they were for each other—even if they refused to bring that dirty little fact out into the open. 

She met his amber gaze straight on, body tense and lips pursed, but her determination unwavering. 

It only took a second for him to smirk and say, “Or do you want me to hazard a guess?”

As if he didn’t already know the answer. “You know... what I like.”

“Yeah, I sure as hell do.”

He didn’t waste time. One arm snaked around her waist, while his other hand jerked her in by the chin as he crashed their mouths together. Any leeway he usually gave her was gone, the sweetness of ill-advised under-the-fireworks kisses forsaken in lieu of teeth pulling on her lower lip and a tongue thrusting into her mouth. 

But that was exactly what she wanted. 

Her fingers curled against his vest, feeling the firm muscle beneath—and she shivered, knowing exactly how it felt to be pinned beneath his strong arms and broad chest, only ever pretending she didn’t want to give him everything. 

One of his hands traveled up her chest, palming one of her breasts and squeezing it. Another deep chuckle rumbled against her mouth, and he shifted his mouth away, pressing his lips to her ear instead. “No corset today? Thought you were a proper, decent woman.”

“Well…” She bit back a whimper as he pinched a nipple, pain sparking with pleasure. “I also know what you like…”

“You sure as hell do.” The echo of their words rolled warm against her ear, making her whole body shiver. His hand kneaded her breasts through the fabric of her blouse and his teeth tugged on her earlobe. She didn’t know how he did it, how he got her so wet so fast, already aching to feel his fingers inside her. 

Only he didn’t hitch up her skirts like he usually did.

Instead, he pushed her down, her skirts barely cushioning her knees as they hit the cold laboratory floor. Maybe she wasn’t good with getting the words out yet, but she could raise her hands, undoing the fastening of his pants as soon as he’d stripped off his belt. 

His cock sprang free, half-hard and already intimidating. His large hand wrapped around the base, giving it a few quick strokes as she parted her lips, tipping up to kiss it. The salt of his precum had barely hit her tongue before his hands were in her hair, twisting into the strands as he fucked into her mouth. 

He was so big and thick it made her jaw ache. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping roughly, the pull almost there but not enough. Not enough to draw out the tears she wanted to spill. Not until he started to thrust into her mouth, fast and deep, pumping himself down her throat. 

It wasn’t the first time. She’d had him in her mouth before, after a night of a few too many drinks at his favorite pub. That night, he’d carried her up the castle stairs in his arms while she nuzzled her face in the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of beer, medicine, and a musk that was distinctly him. He’d set her down in her bed, but she was the one who’d refused to let go, who fumbled with his clothes and his belt and sucked him into her mouth before he could hiss out a warning. 

Roger had been gentle then, coaxing her with softly muttered encouragements. He’d stroked her hair gently and slid his hand to her throat, instructing her on how to relax it so she could take more and more of him in, until her nose nestled into the dark curls all the way at the hilt. 

But tonight, she didn’t want gentle and he wasn’t giving it to her. Her fingers gripped his thighs, bracing herself as she tried not to choke on each hard snap of his hips, a mist finally building in her eyes. 

Almost there…

That’s what she wanted. For him to use her, to be rough and domineering even while he groaned and muttered, “Good girl, just look at how good you take me. Came down here just to get on your knees and suck my cock like that, looking so blissed out even though I’ve barely touched you.”

Was that how she looked? Lips parted, eyes hazy, a blush burning across her cheeks? Enraptured to have his cock down her throat and his fists full of her hair, her mind and body pleading for anything he’d give her? 

Moaning, her lashes fluttered as she shifted, knowing that if she slid a hand between her thighs he’d just slap it away. She rested herself on the heel of her foot, just to put a bit of pressure against her aching cunt.  

That first night, after she’d swallowed thick ribbons of his cum, Roger had fucked her with four of his fingers, muffling each of her moans with kisses as he brought her to climax again and again. She had barely been able to get out of bed in the morning, body aching and thighs sore, her mind reeling from bad decisions. 

But it had been so good. And so, so, so good every time after. Every mission together, every late night in the lab, every hasty fumble when the stress grew too great and the need too tempting.

She arched her tongue and sucked as best she could as he sank himself deep, hitting the back of her throat with a bruising pace. A moment later, she heard him swear, his fingers leaving her hair as he pulled out. Roger hastily squeezed his fingers around the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm. 

Kate was about to object, to plead for him to cum in her mouth, on her face, whatever he wanted. Instead, he jerked her up to her feet and yanked her around, throwing her facedown onto his table. 

Glass shattered somewhere—perhaps a vial—but neither of them reacted. Roger bent over her, dwarfing her body with his. He flipped up her skirts and dragged down her underwear, rubbing the tip of his hard cock between her dripping wet folds. 

He wouldn’t—she knew he wouldn’t—but her stomach still tightened and her legs quivered as she mewled out a barely audible, “N-no…” 

She didn’t even mean it anymore. It was automatic, the faint protest now only a formality in whatever the hell it was they had going on between them. Because even as she said no, she pushed back against him, helping coat him in the slick nectar dripping down her thighs. 

“You sure?” His mouth was hot against her ear, voice low and deep. His hands took hold of her waist, keeping her bent over the table as he thrust his cock between her thighs. “Because I can hear how fast your heart’s beating right now, and I bet it’d beat even faster if I fucked right inside you. Fucked in nice and deep... Bet you’d like it fast and rough, till those pretty nails of yours carved into the wood cause you didn’t know if you wanna beg me to stop or take you even harder.” 

A moan spilled from her lips, picturing it as she rubbed herself onto him. The fat tip of his cock caught on her entrance, just at the brink. If she tipped herself back, he’d fill her just like he said. She wanted it, wanted to be stretched out on his thick cock, wanted it inside her, scoring her, molding her to its shape. 

“Don’t you want that, Kate?” His fingers tightened on her waist, bruising her skin, and he pushed—but instead of slipping inside, he slid between her folds. Her insides clenched, empty and wanting, practically screaming for him to claim her.

“N-no…”

“You sure? Cause I think you do.” He bucked hard, each thrust made easy by the nectar flowing out of her. His cock rubbed between her folds, catching her clit for a brief second, only enough to tease and drive her crazy. “I think you want me fucking you, filling you up till my cum drips down your thighs. I’d fuck you so good, fuck you till your legs gave out, and then I’d eat it out of you while you soaked my tongue, barely able to remember anything except how to moan my name.”

“Th-that…” Sounded so good. She could picture it, could see how he’d fold her in half and drive himself deep until she screamed his name and begged him to keep going. “Ahh, Roger, p-please—”

“Please what, huh?”

“Please… everything.”

She felt him lean down, brushing his lips across the nape of her neck, and then he forced her legs tighter together, fucking between them at brutal pace. Her hips dug into the edge of the table, pain blending with pleasure, and she gasped when she felt him spilling between her thighs. 

A second later, he’d flipped her over, throwing her legs over his shoulders. He hitched her higher, her spine arching as his mouth went straight to her cunt, two fingers plunging inside along with his tongue. She would’ve thrashed from the pure pleasure if the arm around her waist didn’t hold her steady, pushing her further onto his mouth. He fucked her open and sucked on her clit until she came, gasping and crying and squirting onto his tongue. 

It was so good, so fucking good all she could do was squirm, moaning his name again and again. Tears finally, finally spilled down her cheeks and she sobbed as he kept going. He ate her out, taking her from her first orgasm straight to the second. Her legs trembled, followed by her entire body until the pulses became so strong she had to grab fistfuls of his hair and force him away from her, clenching her legs shut as she shook with rapture. 

Roger handled her so easily, a smirk on his glistening lips as he set her down on the table and wrapped her in his arms. He pulled her close, kissing her mouth, then her face, seeking out his payment. The flat of his tongue swept across her skin, licking up every tear before he pressed two gentle kisses to each of her eyelids. 

"Feeling better?" 

Catching her breath, Kate nodded and draped her arms around his neck. She didn’t bother trying to let the tears stop. Instead, she let them flow freely as she buried her face in his neck and whispered a barely audible plea of, "...Again."

Dividers by @natimiles

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Across The Darkened Room {4}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader || Modern AU Summary: Aemond keeps his promise and takes care of you in every sense of the word. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, nudity, sexual themes WC: 2.8k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five ||

“You should pack an overnight bag,” Aemond said as he held you on his lap, his back resting against the headboard. He idly drew circles over your thighs and his hair tickled your cheek as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. “I’ll have movers get the rest for you when you choose which place you like.”

“You are too young to be a sugar daddy,” you murmured and his chest bounced with a deep chuckle. 

“I am hardly buying your affection.” He tipped your chin back so you could see the sincerity in his eye as he spoke, “I promised to take care of you, keep you safe, and you agreed to that control.”

“I know, it just must cost a lot.”

Aemond’s head fell back with a laugh and he shook his head apologetically. “It’s the money that makes you uncomfortable. Sweetpea, it means nothing to me.”

You bit your lip and pondered what such a life would be like, never having to worry about paying the bills or how to make a meal stretch as far as possible. It was as if he could see your thoughts playing in realtime and he didn’t like the way your pulse increased suddenly. 

“Why did you come to my club?”

Your panicked thoughts were derailed and you blinked at him as you processed the question. He was patient as you collected yourself and remembered the moments that led to your search for the sanctuary. 

“I’ve been on my own since I was 16. As soon as I could get out of Flea Bottom I did. Since then I have had the pressure to make every decision alone and I second guess myself at every turn. Whatever the consequence, it's on my shoulders alone. The only relief I have is when I give up that control, for me it’s freedom, even if it is only for a few hours.

“About a year ago Mr Greyjoy sent me to The Heights to collect some special books from an estate sale and I overheard a couple of women in the street. They were talking about the Red Keep and something clicked with what they were saying. So, I saved up for months to pay for the membership and here we are. It probably sounds stupid.”

“Not at all,” Aemond assured you. “It makes perfect sense. Now, do you think you are steady enough to shower?”

The small cubicle was cramped with two bodies in it and it was the first time you had made the attempt. Aemond had taken the loofah and lathered it up with your body wash before thoroughly cleaning you from head to toe. The half moons across your backside had stopped bleeding fairly quickly but the hot water and soap cascading down them sparked a fresh sting in them and your eyes fluttered shut when Aemond paid them more attention than the rest of your skin.

All too soon the water turned cold and Aemond wrapped you in a towel, taking care to dry you as thoroughly as he washed you. It was a fascination to watch him move around your room, opening the closet and drawers with confidence as he collected an outfit for you to wear. 

You should have known he would be sensible in his choices given how late the evening was and how quickly the seaside city temperatures dropped overnight. He could have easily ordered you to wear one of the few skimpy leather outfits you reserved for the Red Keep and you would have donned it to please him, but he grabbed a pair of your worn jeans, and a hoodie. He did indulge himself a little as he chose your underwear, finding a lace bra and the matching panties with a purely masculine smile. 

“You should wear more lace,” he said softly as he traced the detailing over your breasts. “I’m going to take you shopping, Sweetpea.”

The urge to fight the offer didn’t swell in you this time, not after your earlier conversation. Instead, you stepped back and gave him a slow turn so he could see the full effect and your confidence grew as his eye darkened with lust, the iris losing ground to his quickly dilating pupil. 

“I don’t start work until after lunch tomorrow,” you said as you faced him again and he reluctantly held a casual shirt out for you. 

“By the time I show you the properties there won’t be any time for shopping,” he said with a frown, almost like he was embarrassed to admit he couldn’t slow time, and you chuckled at the sight.

“How about you save the time and choose for me?”

A deep hum of approval rumbled from his chest before he closed the distance and caught your chin in his hand as his lips brushed over your cheek towards your ear. “That is a very good idea.”

Aemond was driving towards The Heights, one of the richest suburbs in King’s Landing, and the sparkling blue sea was picturesque behind the mansions that lined the streets. You couldn’t resist opening the window and letting the fresh air blow in with the hint of salt on the breeze.

The trunk of the car was full of shopping bags and they also spilled over into the backseats. Aemond had purchased far more than you had been prepared for but his smile as he handed his card over each time was enough to let him lead you to the next store, and then the next. 

He had been thoroughly amused when you had seen the price of a pair of the barely-there lace panties, you had been aghast that anyone would pay the exorbitant cost for what essentially amounted to a single spool of thread. You had quickly put it back on the rack but somehow it had ended up in the shopping bags without you realising and Aemond had smiled wickedly when the cashier scanned it. 

The sound of the indicator pulled you from thoughts of the overladen trunk behind you and you gasped as you saw the property that Aemond was turning the car into. Words failed you as you took in the row of pretty townhouses that overlooked the water.

“Please tell me we are just visiting someone here,” you murmured.

Aemond pressed a button hanging from his keyring and the garage door for the end townhouse began to open. “Welcome home, Sweetpea.”

You were dumbstruck as you stood in the bright open living room that took up most of the second floor. A balcony sat beyond the floor to ceiling glass sliding doors with unimpeded panoramic views of the sea. A lavish kitchen full of appliances and a marble island could not take away from the view of the water and when Aemond opened the sliding door the sound of lapping waves was carried on the breeze.

“This is too much,” you murmured from behind your hands that covered your lips in shock. 

Aemond beckoned you to join him on the deck and he caged you between his body and the balustrade as he nipped your shoulder sharply. “Agree to disagree.”

A thick wall on one side of the balcony gave the illusion of privacy but you knew there was a neighbour after seeing them on the way in. It didn’t stop Aemond from tilting your head so he had free access to your neck that he grazed his teeth over. 

“You should see the master suite,” he suggested as he pressed himself into your lower back and palmed your breasts until you moaned before pulling away, “then I’ll take you to work.”

You suppressed a groan at the thought of having to go to work, especially after he had teased you, but you dutifully followed Aemond up the stairs to the third floor. It was just as you imagined it would be, light and airy with another grand view of the sea. You could easily see yourself sitting in bed with a book and watching the sea on a lazy Sunday morning. 

“Thank you, Aemond,” you whispered as you climbed the large bed and sat against the headboard to soak in the view. 

Aemond fingered the hooks that were skillfully embedded in the headboard and smiled as he soaked in the sight of you bathing in sunlight. “You are very welcome, Sweetpea.”

The alarm on your phone suddenly blared and you couldn't stop the groan that escaped as you turned it off. Patting the bed longingly, you climbed off with a promise you would be back and Aemond chuckled as he took your hand. 

“I could be terrible and suggest you call in sick,” he said as you descended the stairs to the garage. 

You shook your head and slipped into the front seat of the Maybach “I haven’t taken a sick day, ever.”

“Then you are seriously overdue.”

All joking aside, you made it in time to start work, even with the extra distance to travel and you waved goodbye to Aemond when he dropped you off outside the bookstore. Mondays were always quiet so after unpacking some new inventory and sweeping the store front, you took a seat behind the counter and checked your emails on the store’s laptop. 

You immediately dialled Aemond.

“Why have I got an email from my doctor? It says you requested an appointment.” you asked as soon as the call connected.

“You are overdue for your pap smear,” Aemond answered distractedly and you heard a keyboard tapping away in the background. 

“Aemond...” you groaned, “how did you even…you bribed my doctor?”

Aemond sighed and the typing fell silent as he leaned back in his office chair. “Bribery is such a dirty word, Sweetpea, I bought the medical centre.”

A growl of frustration clawed at your throat and you glared at your phone as if he could see it. “That does not make it any better.”

“Would you rather me not take care of your health?” he asked quietly and you felt the question ran deeper than just the words he was saying and you sighed.

“No, just a little heads up would have been nice.” You looked at the email again before shutting the laptop. “I need a refill of my pill too so I would have had to book something soon anyway.”

“Ah, yes, I was hoping we could talk about that. I like to think this relationship is going well and will continue to do so and, well, neither of us are virgins,” he stated and you laughed at the obvious statement, “but, I find condoms a minor inconvenience. It takes a bit of the spontaneity out of sex, in all honesty. If we were both tested and clean, is that something you would be open to?”

The bell above the door tinkled and you looked up to see a customer walking in with a young girl and you waved in greeting. “Mhmm, yes, sir. I can definitely locate that book for you.”

Aemond spoke with amusement thick in his voice, “I’ll book the appointment while you help with your customers.”

The call ended and you slipped your phone into your pocket before walking to the children’s section, after all, Mr Greyjoy didn’t pay you minimum wage to sit around on your phone.

Dr Merins didn’t know who to look at when he spoke to you. Though his words were directed at you, his eyes kept flicking to Aemond as he sat in the chair that your mother had stopped filling when you were about 15 years old. She had deemed you old enough to take yourself to the doctors if you really needed it and she couldn’t afford to take time off from her two jobs. 

Dr Merins pushed his glasses back up his long nose and looked down at the lab results. “Everything has come back clear on the swabs taken last week and you won’t need another Pap Smear for three years. I was a little concerned by your iron levels in the blood test, they still haven’t increased since your last test and they are borderline anaemic.”

Aemond thrummed his fingers along his thigh as he spoke, “What would you suggest for it, doctor?”

The poor doctor looked between the two of you and sighed, giving his attention to Aemond. “She needs to be eating iron rich food, red meats or leafy green vegetables.” He reached over his desk and grabbed one of the many pamphlets for healthy eating, holding it out for Aemond to take. You had the same pamphlet in your old apartment but no matter how hard you had tried to eat better, healthier food was more expensive and your budget didn’t always stretch that far. “Or, I can prescribe an iron supplement.”

Aemond folded the pamphlet up and slipped it into his suit jacket. “That won’t be necessary.”

The doctor nodded and his glasses dipped again, forcing him to push them back up his nose before writing the script for your contraceptive pill and handing it to Aemond as well. “Very well, Mr Targaryen,” he said. “You can pick this up from the pharmacy on your way out.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stood, somehow feeling relieved despite knowing your test results would come back clear. Aemond merely nodded and opened the door for you, leading you back to the reception to pay for the private consultation instead of waiting for you to fill out the papers to claim back the cost. 

The drive home was peaceful as Aemond navigated the streets, patiently waiting in the morning rush hour. The day was still fresh and it was your day off so you had no expectations on how you were going to spend it. Aemond didn’t seem to have any particular set days off from running his businesses, shifting his schedule to fit yours as needed. 

The phone in the car rang and Aegon’s name flashed across the display before Aemond answered with a resigned sigh. “What’s wrong now?”

“Good morning to you too, little brother,” Aegon greeted with a laugh. “I just signed a cheque for our dear mother, do you want to know why?” 

You gave Aemond all the privacy you could by turning your attention out the window but nothing could stop you from hearing the conversation with Aegon. 

Aemond pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “No, but I assume you are going to tell me anyway.”

“It seems her perfect little boy was photographed buying heroin off some street dealers. Really, Aemond, you couldn’t just snort a few lines of coke with the rest of us? We aren’t the riff-raff.”

You shrunk into your seat and Aemond cast his eye over you before placing a reassuring hand on your knee with a squeeze before addressing his brother, “You wasted your money, Aegon, my vice is nothing as pitiful as drugs.”

“I told mother that, but now she’s all worried. She wants you at the family dinner tomorrow night.”

Aegon didn’t seem to enjoy the idea of the dinner from the snarl in his tone and from Aemond’s deep breath he must have felt the same. 

“Fine, but tell mother I am bringing my girlfriend.”

You spun in your seat to face Aemond and found his lips curving into a full smile, pleased by your surprised reaction. You had noticed he no longer used ‘arrangement’ and instead spoke of your ‘relationship’ but you had not let your hopes get too high regarding what that meant. Now your heart beat erratically and a smile split your own face as he called you his girlfriend. 

“Oh, Aem, I can’t wait to meet her,” Aegon laughed, and for a moment you forgot the call was still connected. “See you later, little brother.”

Aegon’s name disappeared from the display as the call ended and you placed your hand on Aemond’s where it rested on your thigh. “So, girlfriend huh?”

“That’s the part of the conversation you want to discuss?” Aemond shot back with a smirk. 

Your eyebrows pinched together as you remembered the reason his brother had called to begin with and grimaced. “I knew talking to Mad Dog was a bad idea. Your mother is going to think I’m a junkie…”

“Relax, Sweetpea, she’s going to love you…once I explain what actually happened,” he said with a laugh. 

“This isn’t funny,” you said as you pressed your palm to your forehead. “I’ve never met anyone's parents before. What do I even say, or wear? Oh god, it's dinner, what if I use the wrong piece of cutlery. Don’t rich people have like ten thousand different forks?”

Aemond laughed heartily as he pulled into your driveway and he was still chuckling when he parked in the garage. “We have three at most, and I will be beside you the entire time so just follow my lead. As for what to wear, I know just the dress.”

Click here for part five.

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[stxrshxpxd]

autumn

pairing: 90s professor hugh grant x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: student x teacher

prompt: reader falls for her university professor and she thinks it just might be a mutual feeling…

requested by anonymous <3

September.

I had seen Mr. Grant twice in passing on my walks across campus and through the seemingly endless hallways of marble flooring and dark stain wooden arches, on my little quests to navigate my way through my new university. The first time I had turned my head rather indiscreetly and nearly walked into a massive pillar as I studied his locks of brown hair bouncing away from me along with his rushing steps. The second time I had felt a stab deep in my stomach at the sight of him across the library, pulling his hand through said locks of brown hair, before ending his short conversation with the headmaster and quickly disappearing again.

My third encounter with him came on a September morning with ambiguous weather. I sat watching the strong sun begin to beam through the patchy coat of clouds and chase the morning mist away. As the doors opened to the lecture room I expected a large pregnant belly to enter first, but instead that pain in my stomach returned at the sight of Mr Grant marching inside. There were scattered whispers and mumbles around the room. I had no one to whisper to, and so I took a deep breath and secured my gaze on the bronze buckle of his belt and bit the inside of my cheek.

“I take it Mrs. Sherman hadn’t told you who would be filling in for her,” he chuckled at the palpable surprise in the room. “Well. It’s lovely to meet you all. I’m Professor Grant. I do recognise a few faces around the room.” His gaze hopped between students and he gave a handful of them soft smiles, skipping over me. “Well… Mrs. Sherman went into labour on Sunday and now has a little baby girl at home.” I noticed he spoke with his whole face and half his body, smiling, raising his brows and opening his arms in celebration at the happy news. “So, I will be teaching the rest of your Literary Analysis course this year.”

The sun had come to lay across half his body and was making the silver ring on his pinky glow brightly.

“I heard you’re reading Sense and Sensibility,” he said and a few of the students nodded in silence, backs straight and ears eagerly open. Mr. Grant swiftly pulled out a small, weathered copy of the book in question from the back pocket of his black suit trousers. For some reason that act made the stabbing in my abdomen worse. I held in a sigh at the fear that everything he did would make my stomach wrench in agony.

October.

The rain was beating aggressively against the large windows to my right and added to the soundtrack of Mr. Grant humming between his nods as well as tapping his index finger softly against the desk he was half sitting back on. I had lost track of what the student behind me was saying about Children of the Corn but forced myself to hurriedly tune back into the monologue once I felt Professor Grant’s eyes resting on me occasionally. I anticipated his question and I searched my mind quickly.

“That’s a very nice analysis, Thomas, thank you. Y/N, what thoughts did this story provoke for you?”

I couldn’t recall a time when I had properly shared my analysis directly with him before. My written words about Sense and Sensibility had been met with a seeming intrigue on his behalf though.

I greatly appreciate the depth of your character analysis. It shows you have a strong sense of morality and can view a person from a number of perspectives without favouring one. That is a very helpful tool. I am eager to hear more of your thoughts this year!

I had read the scribbled comment at the bottom of my short essay over and over, and right now they were the only words in my brain.

“Um, well, I think King has an incredible way of creating an atmosphere with just a few words. It’s quite remarkable.”

Mr. Grant nodded and smiled in agreement. Finally my thoughts caught up with me and I stammered on, all the while staring at the previously hidden forearms now sticking out of Grant’s rolled up sleeves.

“And, um… the thought that followed me all the way through the story is the exploration of religion in the modern world. Oftentimes I feel that religion is this untouchable and completely unstoppable thing that is, sort of, ironically out of our hands. You know, do we create it or does it create us?” Professor Grant’s smile grew slightly and I looked away, desperately trying to not lose my train of thought to the beauty of his pale, soft face.

“And also what is the difference between religion and cult, what defines them? …And why is one seemingly the pinnacle of good and the other inherently evil, if the line between them is so blurred, or indeed can’t be drawn at all? …Is ruthlessly shunning and marginalising people not just as bad as brutally killing them in a corn field? It’s just a choice of mental or physical death really. Except there isn’t a choice.”

I looked back at my professor once I had gotten my sentences out. He nodded slowly and pondered calmly with that satisfied smile on his lips, as I sat half panicking in the silence. All I could hear were my words echoing in the air between us.

“And do you think it should be stopped? Religion.”

He tilted his head and I took a deep breath in, in the midst of my light panic. He chuckled sympathetically with me, realising the magnitude of the question he had just asked.

“Yes and no, of course… I just think that it’s been a hell of a long time since society existed without religion, it might well be very healthy for us to step back and consider the world without it.”

“So, yes?” Mr. Grant suggested for me with a charming grin and an eye with a big twinkle in the centre. I laughed shortly and looked down at my nervous hands toying with my pencil.

“So, maybe,” I responded, looking up again. He chuckled and nodded once more and combed his fingers through the left side of his hair, only for it to bounce right back to its previous position.

November.

My eyes ached as I sat with my head hanging over my borrowed copy of E.M. Forster’s Maurice, reading the same line over and over again. I had read the book a few years earlier and adored it, but re-reading it now as the time was nearing 11 pm on a Friday night the words carried little meaning. Even my own words in my neat notes appeared increasingly alien.

The library was lit up softly and was about as silent as it could possibly get. It felt wrong to move and make sound as I stared out at the vastness of the room and the hallway outside of the library walls. Suddenly, just as my gaze had fixed sleepily on a framed painting hanging in line with my eyes, a person startled me as he came walking down the hallway. It was Professor Grant.

I shortly pondered the concept of fate as he turned his head casually and locked eyes with me. A smile came upon his face and he steered his steps inside the library without hesitating. He was in his usual black suit trousers and tight belt, a button-up without a tie, and a long coat and knitted scarf draped over his forearm. Under his other arm sat a thick stack of stapled papers caged in firmly against the side of his ribs. Shortly again I pondered the concept of jealousy now, before he spoke and washed my mind clean of everything else.

“Why aren’t you at that big dormitory party?”

Mr. Grant sat on the edge of my table and glanced down at me. He tossed his stack next to my stuff, at which my eyes scanned it and noticed several little notes and markings in red ink scattered throughout the text. I concluded that he had stayed late in his office to mark essays.

“How do you know about the party?”

He laughed quietly and looked around the room momentarily, allowing me a few seconds of shamelessly staring at his strong jaw as he looked away from me.

“Kids always think they’re very secretive. My hearing and deductive skills are excellent in fact.”

I smiled when he looked back at me, but the sentiment of the smile faded quickly from inside me.

“Do you think of us as kids?” I asked in the most neutral tone I could manage. He was only fifteen years older at the absolute most. He couldn’t be a day over thirty-five.

Mr. Grant’s soft stare dropped down my body in stages, seeming to halt at my collarbone and ribs and then my hinged hips where his gaze settled a short while.

“No,” he decided after a moment’s silence.

I didn’t know how the rest of that conversation was meant to go or indeed how to deal with the apparent tension that had built in the quiet room. Instead I backtracked to his initial question of why I was in the library on a Friday night.

“Well… You set an essay due Wednesday, didn’t you,” I chuckled breathily and impulsively looked down as I closed the book in my hands. We both gazed down at the cover and it felt like a strange form of eye contact. When I looked back up I saw a soft smile on his lips.

“That’s one of my favourite books.”

I exhaled and responded quickly.

“I will choose my words carefully.”

My professor’s smile grew and he met my eyes with his visibly tired ones, shaking his head.

“I trust you.”

Something in the air made me feel as though our conversation was coming to an end and it made me sad, which was why I grabbed onto a bit of substantial conversation I could find in our repertoire.

“I’m not big on parties anyway.”

Mr. Grant had crossed his arms now and nodded with the remnants of a smile.

“I understand.” He thought for a second and licked the corner of his mouth. “The parties in your future will be much more up your alley, when you’re an esteemed author. Trust me.”

He spoke of me being a revered published writer, yet all I felt like was a silly teenage girl as I tried to control my blushing cheeks at his sweet words. And then a soft groan escaped him as he reached to grab his essays again and stood on his long legs, clearly on his way to exit again.

“Just don't forget your old Literary Analysis professor when you’re famous,” he demanded sweetly and I simply kept smiling and blushing as he headed out, leaving me with my own company again. I had to fight to stop grinning and I found I was on the verge of breaking a sweat under my knitted jumper.

December.

For a few weeks now I had noticed an increase in stares between me and Professor Grant. I had found him resting his eyes on me several times across the room and once I thought I had made him blush, simply by looking up and meeting his eyes. He had looked down quickly and stuck his one hand into his hair, tensed his brows and stared down at his books again. I had mirrored his actions but hadn’t been able to make a single note for the next few minutes, completely consumed by the idea of letting my lips gently kiss his brow bone and feel him soften at my touch.

I was currently wrapped up in another one of those thoughts as I stared out the window, where light snowflakes were falling and slowly but surely forming a thin white coat over the lawn. I could hear his voice loud and clear as he was in the middle of a lecture - something about anti-heros apparently - but I wasn’t listening to the words. In my mind my lips were attached to his jaw and my fingers rushing to unbutton his shirt. Just as my mouth had reached his collarbone, his real life self changed his tone of voice and I tuned back in.

“Right, we’ll continue this tomorrow for a bit. And we will also have a chat about the exam in two weeks. So, bring all your anxieties and questions tomorrow and we’ll talk it through. Does that sound alright?”

I scanned the room quickly to find all the nodding and smiling students begin to toss their books into their bags and I scrambled to do the same, but once my eyes turned back to the front of the lecture room I found Mr. Grant on his way over to me.

“Hi,” he uttered quietly with a kind smile and I returned it. His hands were in his trouser pockets and his head tilted slightly as he looked down at me.

“I heard,” he began, glancing away at the last few students leaving the room. “from Mr. Holland.. that you’re doing quite well in your Creative Writing class.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I shrugged and laughed shyly as I fidgeted with the pages of my notebook.

“Now, I would hate to find out you have a favourite class that’s not mine, but,” Grant sighed jokingly and then gave me another soft curl of the lips. “I would love to read some of your writing if you wouldn’t mind. I promise to give you nothing but praise, of course.”

I chuckled and had to force my mind out of the gutter of imagining what type of praise he might give me.

“No, I want your critique,” I nodded, still anxiously toying with the notebook that conveniently enough held a lot of my creative writing drafts and half-ideas. Mr. Grant nodded back and swivelled around to my side of the table as I began flicking through my notebook to the sound of my umming and ahhing nervously.

He had planted his large palms on the table and his head hung between his broad shoulders as I finally decided on a page that felt somewhat representative of my work. His thin-rimmed glasses had been pushed up into his hair for the majority of the lecture, and he pulled them down now as he focused his eyes and mind fully on my text.

He was so close to me I could feel his scent begin to fill my nose, and his tricep was nearly brushing against my shoulder. I studied the few veins on his hands as his fingertips instinctively held the paper down against my table.

“It’s really good, Y/N,” Professor Grant finally concluded with his voice just a step above a whisper. “Really good.”

I looked up to make shy eye contact again and found his expression had changed from his sweet, composed smiles he would usually give me. There was something behind his spectacled eyes that suggested conflict. I realised there were just a few inches separating us and the urge to stand up and press my lips to his grew quickly, until I simply couldn’t fight it.

Pushing my chair back and half standing up, I planted a desperate kiss on his already slightly parted lips. For a second everything stood still and I wasn’t sure if he was kissing me back, but at least he wasn’t pulling away. Then I felt those gorgeous hands coat my sides, if only to help stabilise me as I staggered to my feet. It felt like everything happened within the space of a nervous heartbeat. Soon he backed away a step, his warm palms being the last to leave my body. Grant anxiously threw a glance behind him at the half open door as he wiped his bottom lip with his thumb. The sounds from the hallway came back to me again and regret washed over me with such power it nearly made me lightheaded.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I breathed.

“No,” he simply said and shook his head. The empty space in the air made me feel like he was supposed to or wanted to say something else, but he didn’t for a while. His eyes hopped from one corner of my face to the other and his chest rose and fell with his stressed breathing. At last his gaze settled on my lips.

“Y/N, you’re…” He rubbed his forehead and took a few more steps further away from me. “You’re very special and I really admire you… There’s just no way this can happen. You understand that, don’t you?”

He turned around to find me standing in the spot he left me, horrified by my own actions.

“And you have no idea how common it is to fall for a professor. It’s a very peculiar relationship; a student and a teacher… It happens. It’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?”

Fully knowing I was going to be excruciatingly embarrassed by this incident maybe for the rest of my life, I nodded.

“Really, it’s alright,” Professor Grant spoke in a warm voice with a definite sadness behind it. My whole body was vibrating with nerves and heartache and I managed to move my stiff limbs enough to pick up my books and bag.

“Okay,” I exhaled, wanting so badly to believe him. I left his concerned expression behind as I passed him and stepped out into the hallway, managing to catch the heavy sigh he let out behind me. Even still, with embarrassment weighing down my steps, the only thing I could think of was the incredible feeling of his lips against mine and his hands holding my waist. My insides ached as I realised I would never be allowed to kiss him again. Hell, I wasn’t even allowed to kiss him this time. My lower lashes held heavy tears as I stomped outside and kicked my boots through the fresh snow, heading towards my dorm.

[jack-cass-and-co]

Let me explain myself. I never thought it would go this far. It was a fling, nothing else, if even that. I didn't set out to deceive anyone, Carl, Elliott, or otherwise. How could I?

I'll tell you how it happened.

It was the April that Carl left for his ordination. Lillian was born only two years ago, and I had to stay behind to take care of her. I had found a temporary job at the local gas station for the basics-- food, mortgage, etcetera. I couldn't take her with me, so I had to leave her behind with my sister Georgia while I worked and ran errands. It was difficult, but we worked around it, and Georgia was a well trained nanny and good friend.

He showed up around the ninth.

A sleek, black, expensive looking convertible (Carl could tell you what kind, I've no knack for that sort of thing,) rolled into the parking lot, not into a gas pump. I could hear his music, maybe Soundgarden, even through the glass doorway, half expecting the man I could just barely see to be hard of hearing by the time he entered.

The man, yes.

He walked with such smoothness. I'm not sure how else to describe it. Like every step, every wave of his hand, were choreographed, and he had been dancing all of his life. One foot in front of the other, hands tucked into the pockets of spotless white, perfectly ironed slacks. A brown leather jacket over a black, tight turtleneck that looked almost as sleek as his car. Golden hair, sides shaved, long enough such that you could tie into the world's smallest ponytail, but he didn't wear it that way. He didn't look like he hadn't shaved that day, but I wouldn't have called him rugged or anything of the sort. What struck me were his sunglasses. The springtime clouds were just starting to roll in, and it wasn't bright outside in any way, yet he strutted in as if it were the middle of July. Tall. Young. Squared, chiseled jaw. Fit. Permanent smile like he knew a secret you didn't. He was attractive. Scarily attractive. Of course, I did not notice any of this because I was reading Jane Austen. Carl did not care for Jane Austen, but Georgia said it was necessary for every woman of age, so I spent most of that winter hiding "Emma," "Pride and Prejudice," "Sense and Sensibility," and some other I can't recall for my life, from him while we lay in bed. Sense and Sensibility was the book I was reading this particular day, I believe.

"Pardon, darling." He knocked on the counter, shocking me up from my book. I may have yelped.

"Sorry. Excuse me. Hello," I answered, setting the book on my chair as I stood up. I've never been called darling before, which would have shocked me if I'd noticed. It didn't exactly sound unnatural-- his accent was not at all American-- so it felt more like one of those big-time European men from the movies that my friend Nancy likes. Like Tom Hiddleston. I couldn't really place where it was that the accent was from, not that I know much about Europe, but I know for sure he wasn't British. His smile grew gently when I met his sunglass-shadowed gaze, letting himself pause a little.

"Think nothing of it, my dear. I know all too well what it's like to get caught up in a good book."

I ignored the attempt at a conversation starter with a polite smile. "How can I help you today?"

"Oh, if you could perhaps show me to the wine. I'm afraid I'm rather new here," He answered without any hesitations, leaning forward with his hands behind his back like a scientist trying to be rebellious.

Asking a 7/11 for wine at four in the afternoon. I didn't have a bad feeling about him, exactly, though I recognized his oddity. "This is a gas.. station?"

"Gas station," The man whispered like it was the first time he's heard it. Now that I'm thinking about it, maybe he was from a very small European country, if he's never been to a gas station. "How wonderful. Gas station wine, then?"

"Not here, that I'm aware of," I said with a chuckle. The man let out a swear I didn't understand under his breath. "We have Coke, Pepsi, beer, sparkling water, Snapple.."

As I listed out the products, I watched his face for any reaction to any sort of thing. His eyebrows twitched with confusion at most, but on "Arizona Iced Tea," they raised.

"Tea?" I added.

"I do enjoy a good tea. I'd be rather grateful for something cold, especially on such a hot day, yes?"

The 56° wind shook the spring trees in my silence, warning of an oncoming storm. "..Sure."

[alexanderlightweight]

For writing prompt could we perhaps get a little more of the marriage of inconvenience? It’s a wonderful fic! If not no worries, married at first sight/meeting/date is my favorite trope!

Yeah! Thanks for the ask I really loved this fic so I was happy to finally finish it but I’m not burned out

Hope you enjoy!

—

Alec starts to wake up and he squints, because he’s definitely not in his own room.

He’s not in any room he’s seen before and it smells different but more like home than Alec’s ever had.

Something rustles next to him and Alec can’t help the small yelp when a strong arm wraps around his waist and he’s hauled back.

Back against firm muscles that are hard and smooth against the line of Alec’s back and there’s stubble, scratchy against his neck and he burrows back into the chafe of it.

“Magnus.” He gasps out in a sob of pure relief even as lips are being pressed to his shoulder. N

Alec is sore and pleasantly aching, his body tingling from the inside out and he has everything he’s never let himself dream about.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He’s asked, a dark chuckle against his nape and teeth are scraping over the bruise that is Alec’s deflect rune. “Good morning.”

And Alec whimpers when he finally rolls himself over and stares at Magnus.

Magnus who looks so very incredible, with his sleep-mussed hair and his makeup gone.

And he’s still just as devastatingly beautiful as the first time Alec saw him.

Which was the night before.

“We got married, we got married right?”

“Yes, we did.” Magnus is rumbling, pulling Alec closer and Alec lets himself be manhandled, limp with relief.

Magnus himself sounds very pleased and smug but the tightness of his fingers on Alec’s hip belay his sudden tension.

“Oh thank fuck.” Alec mutters because Maia swears like a mundane and he’s picked up on it. And Alec certainly isn’t going to be thanking any angels when this whole thing is an angelic problem. “The wedding is supposed to be in three days.”

“That’s cutting it a little close.” Magnus tells him and his grip has only tightened but the rest of his body is relaxed now.

His fingers are proprietary and knowing as they pet up and down Alec’s skin. And Alec has to wonder, how much did Magnus touch him while he slept, trying to memorize Alec’s body.

The way Magnus touches him, it’s like he already knows Alec and is familiar with him.

He acts like touching Alec is a natural extension of Magnus moving, because his fingers belong on Alec’s skin.

“If I let myself get poisoned by a demon can I just conveniently stay unconscious until after that?” He asks without any real thought and there is a sharp inhale and then Magnus rolls them from their sides over. He’s pinning Alec down and staring down at him and Alec gets the distinct impression that he’s said something wrong.

“If you get yourself poisoned by a demon, darling Alexander. Especially if it’s on purpose, I will be putting you to bed and I will be withholding myself.”

Alec can’t help the way he lurches up, arms winding tightly around Magnus.

“No poison.” He promises because avoiding the clave isn’t worth any loss of Magnus’ attention.

Magnus chuckles and it’s a comforting rumble, the promise of a predator's protection.

“Well, not for you at least.” Magnus murmurs against his lips, “though we could always plan a little poison for our wedding favors.”

Alec fights the grin because duty is still important to him but Alec is so tired of being the sensible and strong one when he’s been the one caught in a storm and dashed against a reef.

“You might not like how they react.” Magnus warns him, reminding Alec of the consequences.

The price that may be his freedom.

And Alec, maybe that would have scared him before.

But he has a powerful, magical, amazing husband who holds Alec like he’s a flash of frozen starlight about to vanish forever.

And Alec finds that he can live with this version of himself.

This version of himself that chooses happiness over a slow death.

Because Alec was never going to stay married to Clary if he even made it to the altar.

One of them would have ended up dead, one way or another.

Alec would have made it so.

So he kisses Magnus in answer.

A little hesitant because it’s new and there’s a little flare of magic where he tastes mint instead of morning and then his mouth is being claimed much more skillfully than his own attempt.

“I’ll have you, right? No matter what happens?” Alec pants when Magnus finally takes agonizing mercy and lets him breathe.

“We’re bound to each other, Alexander. As tightly as Jonathan Shadowhunter was to Raziel, if not much more intimately.” Magnus kisses him again and then his brow and the bridges of his cheeks.

Alec knows that his family won’t understand. Especially when he’s been trained to let them break and crush him into a mold of their own making that doesn’t fit for him.

And Alec knows he could have done it. He could have held on till he was at least forty and then if it got too much, well accidents happen.

Clary is the spark that set off the inferno.

Because Alec has considered willingly giving up his runes rather than marry her but somehow saying no to his family was harder.

“I think I lost them a while ago.” Alec admits and it’s hard, “and no one is asking me how I feel. Just that I’ll have Clary and Jace to help me run the Institute—“

— like Jace who is a soldier but not a leader and Clary who is a little girl who knows nothing and refuses to learn can help —

“I think I’m tired.” Alec finishes lamely, a quiet admittance and he means so much more than just simple exhaustion. “And I’m glad you found me last night. I’m glad you took a chance on me.”

Because Alec’s not sure what would have been left of him in three days.

“Even if I don’t want to let you go back?” Magnus asks and he’s testing the water, and Alec who has spent his entire life denying himself for other people is done.

“Okay.” He agrees, because Jocelyn is in the council and

Alec blinks his eyes open, “hey the downworld knows Valentine’s alive, right? I didn’t find out until recently but you guys know right? It’s why people are being more careful right?”

“Oh darling,” Magnus says and Alec’s being kissed again and he’s not complaining but he’d like to know how to make it happen on purpose. “I did know, but thank you for telling me.”

Alec nods and then he realizes and he’s shocked.

“I’m your husband.” Alec says. “You married a shadowhunter knowing the shadowworld was about to implode.” And Alec can’t help it, he’s impressed by Magnus’ sheer arrogance. “Dealing with the Fairchild’s was worth this outcome.” He decides and it’s a testament to how much he already adores Magnus that he’s making the concession.

“ Fairchild? Clary? Was your fiancé Clarissa Fairchild?” And Alec nods even though he’s not sure what her actual first name is.

“They were going to marry you off to a mundane-raised, memory-wiped, sight-hidden unbloodied child?” Magnus is seething above him, his muscles bunching and his magic coiling in the air.

“Memory-wiped?” Alec asks, because that hasn’t come up. He would know, memory wipes are serious and he could have used it as an excuse. Not that he’s unhappy with where he’s at.

“I wiped them for a fee.” Magnus tells him dryly and Alec decides then and there that Magnus is quite obviously his soulmate.

“Can we make sure she never gets them back?” Alec asks, and it’s petty and cruel and Magnus grins at him and croons gently, like he’s absolutely delighted by the prospect.

“Yes, I think that can be arranged.” And then Magnus is scowling at the wall like he can set it on fire with the force of his glower and he probably can. “How should we do this?”

Alec blinks and then shrugs, “send enough fire messages to let them know I’m still alive and show up as freshly married to my own wedding?”

“Sounds splendid, I’ll pick our outfits, a united front?” Magnus asks and Alec smiles at him, charmed. “It’s likely you’ll be disowned on the spot.”

“Well it’s a good thing I can just take your last name.” Alec mutters because he knows what he’s doing. Alec knew the minute Magnus kissed him what he’d be losing.

He also got a glimpse of everything he’d be gaining.

The choice had been easy, it still is.

[metamorphosisff]

|Chapter 17| Spread Your Wings

The dark cloud that had been hovering over me had started to dissipate last week around the same time I met with a therapist for the first time. My reaction to Trevor tearing my apartment to shreds did not stop at pulling away from Xavier. The week after I barely went outside out of work and spent hours in bed crying. Crying because one man’s entitlement had upended so much, most importantly the illusion that I was keeping it together. Mari was not having that though and after exactly seven days after that she stormed into my apartment to shake me out of it. That day we went shopping all over downtown Brooklyn to get new things for the living room. We were even able to find small vials for the remaining ashes of my grandmother I managed to save. It was what I needed to start feeling human but I went through the motions the following week. It wasn’t until Jazz dragged us to some off Broadway play that I slowly realized I owed it to myself to get help. So I started therapy because a wise man once told me talking about my problems might make them easier to get through. 

Sweeping a glance over my apartment as I got my purse together, my mind projects Xavier standing before me with those eyes glossed over in as much pain as I was in. Taking a deep breath, I shake away the memory. I prayed he was doing okay because for the moment it felt safer to keep my distance. I had put too much onto him which was not fair. He had his own problems to contend with and expecting him to add mine into the mix wasn’t sensible. That did not mean his absence wasn’t felt though because a day had yet to go by without me thinking of him. 

The sound of my phone ringing with an incoming Facetime made me roll my eyes. I was trying to head out and get some food but that would have to wait because it was Lonso who was calling. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks so there was no way I could miss his call without him going off on a tangent in our text thread.

“Hey,” I greeted, once his bronze face filled the screen. His curls were shorn close to the scalp in the way military men often sported their hair. He was dressed in uniform and sitting in a nondescript office with a pair of slate gray AirPod Maxes over his ears. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking about you and decided to call. I am surprised you answered though since you seem to specialize in dodging me,” he said, with a pointed stare. 

“Don’t make me regret doing so by being an ass,” I said, with a roll of my eyes which he chuckles at.

“I’m fucking with you, partly. I worry about you and it doesn’t always show in the best of ways,” he said.

“That’s putting it modestly. You are overbearing at best and a pain in the ass at least. There is never any in between with you. I can’t handle that,” I said, finally coming clean about why I avoided conversations with him. Well, one of the reasons. The main reason.

“Cause you be hiding shit when I can help you. Like why Mari had to tell me about what that nigga did?” Lonso asked, folding his hands in front of him. His frustration was slow to start, opposite of mine which was explosive but I can tell he was trying to remain calm so we could have a full conversation. “Like what the fuck Jamila? You know I would have found a way to come up here.”

“And do what? He’s locked up and not coming out for a long ass time. I handled it,” I said, raking my hand over tangled curls. My hair hadn’t been a priority lately but it needed to become one. I made a mental note to take care of it while Lonzo shook his head at me.

“Be there! I could have helped you clean up and replace stuff. What happened was scary as fuck and to hear about it from someone else days later hurt. I can’t lie,” Lonzo said.

“I’m not trying to hurt you on purpose. I’m just used to doing things by myself and asking for help is hard because I don’t like being let down,” I said.

There had been so many times when I was a teenager that I asked for help and people always feel short or never fully followed through. After a few times I realized the only person I could count on in this world was me. Life became easier once I accepted that I had to make sure I was okay at the end of the day. While I did have some help from Mari, I tried not to lean on her too much because raising Papi was a lot. With her I was decisive about what I decided to let her in on as not to worry her. It never even crossed my mind to tell Lonzo about what happened because he wasn’t in my daily orbit. He had been reduced to unanswered calls and texts I’d sometimes reply to depending on my mood.

Nodding his head, he said, “I get that but I haven’t let you down. Anything I ever said I was going to do, I did even when I was broke.”

That was true especially when I was in college and struggling to feed myself after paying rent. Lonzo found a way to send me a hundred dollars every two weeks until I got a better job. Almost a whole year he did that. When I got the flu bad one year he came up from Virginia to take care of me because Mari, having a toddler at the time, couldn't. However it was during that time that he decided he had to hover over every decision I made. 

“Our parents made some terrible decisions that affected us differently and I hate that you got the shorter end of the stick. The one thing they did right was us though. I don’t want us to keep on the way we are, sniping at each other because we used to be close. If you died with our relationship being like it is…,” he stopped to take a deep breath. Lonso wasn’t an emotional person so to see his eyes redden caused mine to as well.

He looked away from the screen for a second but I caught the way his bottom lip trembled and immediately I felt bad. 

“I thought about that too,” I said, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t want to fight with you Lonso, I swear I don’t but I need you to be my brother, not my de facto parental figure. I’m grown now and yes sometimes I struggle but I always find my way.”

“You do and I’m not taking that from you but there’s no harm in letting other people walk beside you. I worry about you, I haven’t stopped worrying about you since the day we left,” Lonso said.

That had been a shitty day because Ms. Lena didn’t let anyone know the day of the move. Later she explained that she didn’t want to be talked out of her decision or be further manipulated by my parents. When I got older, I somewhat understood where she was coming from but that didn’t take away from how cruel the act was. Our father had to physically rip Lonzo from me because even at fourteen he knew what leaving would mean. 

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. Guess that means I should listen huh?” I said, causing him to smirk.

“That’s exactly what that shit means,” he cracked.

“I’m going to do better,” I said, drumming my fingers on the counter top.

“Me too MiMi, me too.”

Hearing my childhood nickname doesn’t make me cringe like it normally does when he uses it. For the first time in a long time, we smile at each other.

It’s late at night and try as I might, I can not fall asleep which isn’t a surprise. Insomnia had been a dear friend ever since the tornado known as Trevor ripped through my apartment. He took away my ability to feel safe in the home I grew up in and I would hate him forever for that. Having enough tossing and turning, I get up and slide on some sweatpants. Grabbing my keys and phone, I head across the hall to let myself into Mari’s apartment. The light in the living room is on but everything else is off leaving the apartment quiet with the exception of humming appliances. Out of habit, I pad my way down the hallway and stop at the first door on the left. Slowly I turn the knob and find Papi with a sheet over his and a glow coming from a screen alongside the sounds of a video game. Flipping on the light, I watch amused as he quickly pokes his head out.

“Auntie?” he questions, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He takes one look at me and knows something is off but like the intuitive kid he is, doesn’t press me. Instead he lifts his Switch in the air. “You tryna play?”

“Hell yeah,” I said, walking over to sit beside him. 

“If I win, can I stay up for at least another hour?” he asks, knowing I’m about to tell him this is his last round of whatever he’s playing.

“Yes but if I win, it’s light out. It’s already going on eleven and your mom will kill us both if you're still up when she gets home,” I said.

“True,” he said, as he passed me a controller. Propping up the Switch, I see we’re playing Mario Kart. “I couldn’t sleep though.”

“Me either. Anything in particular on your mind?” I ask, as he starts the round.

“Yeah I was thinking about how our building needs better security. Like if our door downstairs actually locked how it was supposed to that nig- I mean that bum wouldn’t have been able to do what he did,” Papi said.

“Maybe,” I said, trying to figure out how to approach this conversation with him. “But I don’t want you worrying about that okay?”

“I can’t help it. That was messed up and I hope your boyfriend beats his ass,” Papi said.

I tear my eyes away from the screen just in time to see the serious expression etched across his features. His eyebrows are sunken as his lips twist to the side.

“Xavier is not my boyfriend and stop cursing,” I said.

“Yes he is, he takes you out and makes you happy. He also buys me stuff by the way. Can you tell him I’d like some more X-Men stuff?” he asked.

“I’ll see what I can do Papi but I make no promises,” I said.

“I’ll take that,” Papi says, causing me to chuckle.

We end up going for best out of three when he wins the first but in the end I let him have his extra hour. With one last warning for him to keep his eye on the clock because I will deny agreeing to let him stay up if caught, I leave him to his lonesome and go into the living room. 

As I snuggle into the couch to wait for Mari to come home, my phone vibrates against my thigh where it is resting. Seeing Xavier’s name on the screen on the text notification sends my heart racing against my chest. Papi spoke him up and he must have heard it from wherever he was. My hands grow sweaty as I unlock my phone to read the message.

Hey, I know you still taking your time but I just want you to know that I love you and I miss you. I especially miss you talking during our Marvel marathon. I think I miss your snoring too (not the sound but knowing you're that close). Nothing and I mean nothing, will ever change that baby. I’m here. Take your time.

Hot tears splash onto the screen by the time I have reread the message for the tenth time. A weight is removed slightly from my shoulders but there is no real reprieve. I want so badly to call him but I toss my phone to the side. I’m not ready to talk to him but I should be. 

The scent of Jam fills the air as Mari takes a rat tail comb and makes another part in the back of my head. After waking up and sending Papi outside to play, we decided today would help each other with our hair. I had touched up the bleach on her roots once we finished eating breakfast and now she was returning the favor. I turned my phone over and over in my hands contemplating what I was going to say to Xavier. Contemplating if I was ready to say something at all. I had resolved that he should hear from me last night and thought sleeping on it would help me get there. All I’ve managed to do is lament on the fact that in a dark moment I pushed him away instead of embracing the lifeline he was tossing me. I did not have to face the aftermath of Trevor’s destructive behavior alone but I chose to because cleaning up other people’s messes alone was second nature to me. I did not want to have an audience but that’s not what he was offering. He was offering a helping hand and it took me longer than it should have to realize that.

“I miss him,” I sighed, raking my hand over the few finished braids Mari had placed over my shoulder. 

“So call him,” Mari said, as that was the simplest thing ever after the month of silence between us. The text he sent last night still has my heart racing and made me realize how much I miss his presence in my life. “And before you start, no, it’s really not that hard.”

I open my mouth to respond but my phone ringing in my hands steals my attention. A picture of Jazz and I fills the screen with an incoming Facetime call. I hit the green button to accept it and in seconds, she’s filling the screen with a full beat face and a slicked back black ponytail. 

“You called right on time Jazz, your daughter is in here tripping,” Mari says, peeking from behind me. 

Jazz cackles while I shoot Mari a side eye which she ignores with a mush of my head and a command to keep my head down. I adjust how I’m holding the phone, lowering it further into my lap so that Jazz can see my face and Mari can braid comfortably.

“Gon’ head and tell me what’s going on Birdie. I see it all over your face,” Jazz said, adjusting her AirPod. I can tell she’s on break at the center she works at because this is when she usually calls me to check in or to confirm any upcoming plans.

“Xavier texted me last night and it made me realize that I miss him…a lot actually,” I sighed. 

“I’m not hearing the problem. Not only has Mr. Clipboard been respecting the space you asked for but he didn’t take it as a dismissal. He probably reaffirmed that he loved you, right?” Jazz asked. 

I nodded my head and am reminded by Mari, gently putting it at the right angle to keep still. “He did but-

“But what?” Mari sighed exasperatedly behind me. “You love that nigga real bad.”

“And do,” Jazz chimed in, causing them to laugh. 

“But,” I said, over them, “I blinked and a month went by y’all. There are things broken in me that I thought I could ignore but I can’t and I don’t know if time will ever fix it. He doesn’t deserve the mess that I am.”

“Now that ain’t never been a kept secret baby girl and Xavier has always known that you have some baggage. I’m sure he has his own because we all have our shit Birdie but that’s a lazy excuse to push him away. It sounds like you have let your fear get comfortable in the driver's seat,” Jazz said, instantly calling me to task.

She has a keen sense of knowing when I’m stepping around an answer. Where Mari has gotten used to waiting me out, Jazz has no patience for it. 

“I’m afraid that one day he’s going to decide that he can’t handle me or my shit. Like he’ll realize maybe I’m not worth the trouble after all and I know how fucked up that sounds. My therapist says it’s easy to talk ourselves out of a good thing but I don’t know. It keeps me up at night because I have never been loved like he loves me and we have only scratched the surface of what we could be,” I said. 

“Your therapist is right. Love is a risk, being vulnerable and open is a risk, not loving at all is a risk. Everything in life comes with a risk even the choice to do nothing is a risk because you might miss out on your person or an opportunity. Ultimately you have to decide what outcome you can live with,” Jazz said. 

“Right, and missing out on Xavier will be one of the dumbest things you have ever done and I’ve watched you shave your eyebrows off,” Mari added.

“Regardless of how much he loves you, you have to love yourself and believe you are worthy because your worthiness is eternal. It shows in your attitude, in your walk, in your eyes. Some days will be harder than others to do so but you have to,” Jazz said.

“Sure do and Mila, babe putting Xavier to the side for a moment, you have been more mindful lately. Less snappy and more patient. That little orange vest stint put some things in perspective for you and he came along while you were already in motion,” Mari said. 

“I’m trying but I feel like that shit with Trevor’s dumb ass set me back because bad things keep happening and I realize I never had a break. There is always something and I want there to be peace so bad. In order for me to be at peace I have to heal but my healing is always interrupted and that makes me want to give up. Why is maintaining change so fucking hard?” I sighed, feeling tears align the bottom of my eyes. 

I was sick and tired of crying. Ever since that night I do it easily and it leaves me feeling like a constant torrential downpour. The dam I put up in my teen years had eroded and there was no longer anything between me and my feelings. Though I’m exhausted from crying these last few weeks I let these tears fall too because they feel different. They aren’t sad, they are cleansing. 

“Because change is scary but remaining the same keeps you stagnant and you can’t grow that way Birdie. Actually, that’s the quickest way to die. You deserve to live not just survive but live and you are well on your own way. This really is the time to push past against all your fear and hesitation. You’ll be better for it in the long run,” Jazz said.

Not just live but survive. 

Taking a deep breath, I nodded my head because Jazz was right. I was taking the steps to better my life by going to job interviews, working on my attitude, trying to fix my relationship with my brother and getting my therapist. I deserved the happiness I got from and with Xavier to balance out all of the rest. 

“Y’all are right,” I breathed out. “I just get stuck in my head sometimes and that inner voice is a bitch to drown out.”

“That’s why we’re here. To be loud as hell and tell you to chill the hell out and go get your man,” Mari said, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Period. Take life by the reins Birdie and I’ll see y’all for brunch this weekend. Can’t wait to hear how it goes. Toodles,” Jazz says with a quick wave as someone enters her office calling her name. She makes an annoyed expression before slapping on a quick smile which we laugh at as we wave back. Shortly the call disconnects and I lock my phone back.

“I love how she makes plans and just expects us to show up, any other plans or obligations be damned,” Mari giggles as she finishes another braid.

“I’ve learned to embrace it. Her plans have been a bright spot this past month,” I sniffle, as I wipe the last of my tears from my cheeks.

“Agreed, be giving me something to do other than work and cart Papi around,” Mari says, as she makes a new part. “But back to you real quick. Text him back right now. You have had your space but he deserves for his effort to be met with some of your own.”

I nod my head and unlock my phone. “Never thought I’d see the day you would be on a man's side.”

“He’s not just any man, he is the man that returned your real smile. So unless he does something extremely out of pocket, I fuck with him,” Mari said. 

Her approval means the world to me because Mari is the only family I see every day. Without her I would be adrift and I haven’t always brought the best people around. Xavier passed both her and Papi’s test without even having to try hard because he’s a genuinely good person. Opening up our text thread I try to type out a message but nothing feels adequate enough.

“What time do you think you’ll be done with my hair?” I asked.

“In like maybe two hours and no, you cannot wait until after I’m done to text him because that defeats the purpose of me saying ‘right now’ girl,” Mari said.

“That’s not why I’m asking. What I need to say, shouldn’t be done through text. I’m going to go see him,” I said, turning around to look at her. 

Throwing her hands up in the air, Mari shouts, “Hallelujah! She has awakened with the spirit of common sense.”

“Not too much on me!”

[drpeppertummy]

[stuffing, mild burps]

"Sunny, I think you might be the dumbest guy I've ever met," said Laurie, sipping her Coke. The two sat alone in her ancient minivan in the McDonald's parking lot.

"Even dumber than that guy you were seeing a couple months ago?"

"Yeah, you just might be."

"I can't believe you would say that!" Sunny looked up at her with exaggerated woundedness. "I never stole your hubcaps and tried to give them back to you as a present."

"Maybe not, but he never tried to eat ten filet o fishes just to prove a point," said Laurie.

"You're the one who made a bet out of it," Sunny said defensively. Laurie shrugged and ate a fry.

"It just seemed like an easy victory," she said.

"Yeah, for me," said Sunny.

"Yeah, right! You're gonna owe me, Sunshine!" Sunny stuck his tongue out at her and shoved the first sandwich in his mouth. Filet o fishes were his not-so-guilty pleasure, and the last time they'd been to McDonald's, the conversation had shifted into a grand debate about how many of them Sunny could hypothetically eat. The debate had ended in a bet: if he could eat ten of them in one sitting, plus a large soda and an order of fries, he got to pick the music in the car for a month. If he couldn't, he had to pretend to be Laurie's date when her grandparents came to visit next week. Truthfully, losing didn't sound awful to either of them; Laurie liked Sunny's music taste, and Sunny liked the promise of Laurie's grandmother cooing over him. That didn't matter, though. The real prize was victory itself.

Sunny had been thoroughly confident in his ability to put away all those filet o fishes, and that confidence held up until the third one. The first two went down easy, but as he worked on his third, the feeling of fullness began to creep up on him, and it began to creep fast. By the fourth, he was slowing down enough for Laurie to notice.

"Getting full?" she asked, smiling sweetly at him. He looked away, furrowing his brow.

"No."

"Slowing down a little."

"I'm pacing myself," he said.

"Sure you are," chuckled Laurie, returning to her fries. She'd finished her burger already and was now happily watching Sunny struggle through his task. The four sandwiches crammed into his small stomach had long since begun to show, and his tummy bulged uncomfortably out over the tight waist of his jeans. He swallowed the last bite of number four and opened up number five. He paused for a moment to take a breath, resting his free hand on his stomach, then grabbed his belt and tried to inch it lower. It didn't help much. Sighing, he started on the fifth sandwich.

"You can quit whenever you feel like it," said Laurie.

"I'm not quittin'," he said with his mouth full. He'd been eating his fries alongside the filet o fishes and was making good headway on them, but he was trying not to think about the soda. He knew it would fill him up too much to get through the sandwiches, so he was saving it for last in the hopes that he could chug the whole cup at once. This wasn't a particularly sensible plan, but sensible wasn't the first word anybody would've used to describe Sunny. He finished number five with a strained gulp and moved on to number six.

Laurie stared down at Sunny's bloated belly with fascination. For as small and slim as he was, he could certainly put away a lot of food, although he didn't exactly look comfortable doing it. When they'd first made the bet, she'd been almost positive he wouldn't be able to do it, but now she wasn't so sure. She hadn't expected him to get this far. Looking at his belly, though, she also wasn't sure he'd get much further.

Sunny finished the last of the sixth sandwich, shoved the box into the bag, and let his head fall back against the headrest. With a heavy sigh, he held both hands against his distended belly. He looked down. His stomach was straining the buttons of his shirt, and a tiny sliver of hairy skin was becoming visible just above his belly button.

"So, what're you gonna wear when my grandparents come down?"

"I ain't goin' to see your grandparents."

"Come on, you can't seriously still be doing this!"

"You better believe it, baby." Sunny unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, letting out a sigh of relief as he did so. "Four to go, and I'm gonna do it."

"Four and a soda," she reminded him, tapping the lid of the large Dr. Pepper sitting in the cup holder. He waved his hand dismissively.

"That's nothin'," he said, pulling the seventh filet o fish out of the bag. Reinvigorated by the closeness of his victory, and by the little bit of space he'd freed up by adjusting his wardrobe, Sunny quickly wolfed down number seven and started on number eight. He'd managed to slowly eliminate the fries, and now only three sandwiches and a soda stood between him and victory. Eight went down a lot more slowly than seven, but down it went, and he opened up number nine. While he'd freed up a little space, there was no denying the fact that his stomach was unbelievably, immensely, unbearably stuffed. Still, victory was close. He forced up a burp, punctuated by a soft groan of pain and relief, and finished number nine.

He paused again, resting his hands on his belly. It was so tight and solid that for a moment his brain didn't even register it as part of his body. Not to his hands, at least. As for his belly itself, his brain was very aware of its status. He pulled the tenth filet o fish out of the bag, but didn't open it yet. He sat it down on top of his stomach and closed his eyes. Rubbing his belly, he forced out another burp. A soft moan escaped him as he did. He couldn't recall ever having been so full in his life. Listlessly, he opened up the final sandwich and stuffed the box back into the bag. Laurie watched, astonished, as somehow, by some miracle, he ate the whole thing.

"Jesus Christ," she said, looking both horrified and impressed.

"You ready to lose?" He'd intended to sound cocky, but his voice came out more exhausted than anything.

"Shit, Sunny, I'll let you have it without the soda!"

"I don't need your pity win," he said, picking up the Dr. Pepper. "I'm winning this thing fair and square." He took the lid off the cup and tossed it into the bag with the rest of the garbage. He looked at the cup for a moment, took a deep breath, and started drinking as fast as he could. Laurie would've sworn she could see his stomach swelling as he demolished the soda. His gulping grew louder and more frantic as the cup emptied, and finally, in a dramatic climax, one of his shirt buttons popped open just as he finished. He tossed the cup aside and an enormous belch erupted from his mouth.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Laurie exclaimed. Sunny laid his head back against the headrest, panting and clutching his stomach.

"I told you so," he said, sighing heavily.

"Was that really worth it just to pick the music for a month?"

"Put in Tina," he said, disregarding the question.

"Shit, Sunny, after all that, you can have it for two months!"

"Really?"

"No."

"You suck." Laurie laughed.

"Let's get out of here," she said, starting the car. Sunny reclined his seat a little before buckling up. Between the button popping and his pants being wide open, his bloated belly was just about on full display, but he was too full to care. Laurie gave his stomach a reassuring pat and pulled out.

They listened to Sunny's trusty Tina CD as they drove, along with the soft sounds of his stomach gurgling away and the occasional sickly burp. Laurie reached out and rested one hand on his belly, giving it a gentle rub. He looked up at her.

"I could still be your date if you want, y'know," he said. She laughed and glanced down at him, then back at the road.

"What the hell for? You won, didn't you?"

"Well yeah. But like, if you really wanted me to."

"It's fine," she giggled, patting his belly. "I don't need a date." He nodded and gazed out the window, and they listened to the CD for the rest of the ride.

[bluejay-writes]

Mystictober 2023 - Day 3: Potions, or Poisons?

You can read this fic on Ao3 if that’s more your speed!

Rating: Teen, for swearing and drug use.

Prompt: Potion

Characters: Saeran, Mint Eye OCs, (Hints of Jumin, 707)

Wordcount: 2081

Summary: Believer C-128 runs the elixir lab at Mint Eye. Mr. Saeran wants to know about her experiments, and tests one without asking.

“What’s with the colors over here?” 

The believer turned, taking in the man in the crisp black suit with a glance. She was clearly not expecting anyone to be in the room with her, least of all him. To be fair, he basically never came into the elixir lab, as the Savior had all of his doses delivered to him while he was too busy hacking to notice.

“Test batches, Mr. Saeran.  I’ve color coded them so I can keep track of the changes I’ve made when testing.”

“What are you testing?”

“The savior requested I make new formulations for specific situations.”

“And who are you testing these on?”

She bit her lip. “Myself, sir. Per her request.”

“Must be hard to get good data while the elixir does its job.  Let me test this one for you.” He reached out and picked up a vial full of a magenta-colored liquid, tossing it back and handing her the empty. “What’s the difference?”

She froze, and Saeran watched as she tried to come up with an answer that would please him. He knew that whatever she said would be at least partially untrue, but he still waited to hear her answer, regardless.

“C-128?” he said, taking a step towards her. He didn’t mean it to be menacing, but it was clear that it terrified her, and she just said the first thing that came to mind.

“It-it’s a booster for long-term elixir use.  Taken on top of your usual dose it helps keep clarity of purpose. Or, well, that’s what I designed it to do… I haven’t tested it yet… how do you feel?”

“No difference, yet.”

“Well, ideally it’s meant to be taken directly after your usual dose of Elixir, so I don’t know that you’d specifically notice the effects yet.”

“Make me another vial of this - I’ll take it next time I take my elixir, and let you know.”

Her eyes widened, but she turned to do as he said. As she was mixing up another of the magenta potions, without the pink dye this time, she dared to ask her question.

“Sir?”

“Yes, C-128?”

“Why are you here? N-not that you can’t be, just, have I done something wrong?”

“No, I was just interested, and I needed a break.”

She took a deep breath, and then handed him the vial of mint liquid that looked very similar to the standard Elixir of Salvation.

“It’s not Magenta.” he said, skeptically.

“Savior said the other colors were only allowable in the lab. If you’re leaving the lab, it has to be mint.”

“Ah. Sensible. Wouldn’t want anyone knowing about the differences.”

“Well, you do now.” She chuckled. “Please don’t tell the Savior you’re testing for me. I fear she’d be angry with me, and…”

“It was my choice.” He said. “Would you tell me no?”

C-128 shook her head. “Of course not, Mr. Saeran.” “Good.” he said, leaving the room. “I will be back tomorrow to tell you my experiences.”

After that day, Saeran regularly stopped by her lab for his “booster” as he called it. She’d been tweaking the formula to work better on him as he told her his experiences, and every day he felt even better than the last.  He wasn’t sure what the mixture was actually supposed to do.  Her lie had been thinly-veiled at best, and mostly spoken out of panic. He didn’t know if he’d just been testing her initially, but after that first day of clarity after an elixir dose, he just couldn’t stop wanting the booster to accompany it.  Regardless of its purpose, it was making his job so much easier.

He knew that per the Savior’s instructions she had been creating a much stronger version of the elixir, which would work as a booster to hypnotic suggestion receptiveness in small doses, but that didn’t seem to be what this was doing for him at all.

Saeran had never felt so capable and in control with the Elixir than he did with the boosters that C-128 developed for him. He’d been managing to stay three steps ahead of that traitor, and the savior had even decided they didn’t need to get someone into the apartment to distract the RFA - she was content with his progress as it was, and he’d never been more proud.

So, when C-128 didn’t bring his next day’s booster vials, Saeran was immediately worried. Not only would it affect his progress but it could get her in trouble with the Savior as well.  He’d have to go pick them up himself, of course. It’d give him a chance to check in and see if there were any new updates she’d made, or if it was just the same not-Magenta mixture.

When he got there, he found the door shut and locked, with another Believer standing in front of the door. Immediately, Saeran was on guard.  What was going on with the Elixir lab?

“Believer, Report.”

“Ah! M-Mr. Saeran! Believer A-230 here. The Savior is waiting for C-128 to finish testing something, and no one is allowed in or out until she’s completed it.”

“And you’ve kept watch the entire time?”

“Yes, nothing has changed. It’s been quiet in there, though.”

“Understood. I’m here to relieve you, Savior’s orders. Go back to your usual duties, A-230.”

“Yes, Mr. Saeran.”

The believer nodded to him and walked off.  Once he was sure the man was gone, he unlocked the door and slipped inside.  As the door shut behind him, he froze in shock. C-128 was laying on the ground with a broken flask and a puddle of bright blue liquid nearby.

“C-128. Are you alright?” He crouched down next to her, noting the flicker in her eyelids that he was used to from a cleansing gone bad, and checked her pulse.  It fluttered weakly against his fingers, and he would swear the rhythm was erratic.

She looked up at the tone of his voice, squeezing her eyes shut before staring imploringly at him. “No. Magenta…” Saeran grabbed the vial of magenta liquid from his first visit to the lab, and tipped it down her throat.  She coughed, but seemed to breathe a little bit easier almost immediately. “Won’t be enough. I need… Hospital... Bring the… red bag.” one shaky hand pointed to where the first aid kit was attached to the wall.  Why would she need the first aid kit if she was going to the hospital?  

There wasn’t time to ask these questions, not with C-128 passing out again. Saeran didn’t argue, couldn’t argue with an unconscious woman. He lifted her up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and grabbed the large kit she’d pointed at.  He may have been practically skin and bones before, but with her booster he’d been putting on muscle in ways he hadn’t been able to before, so lifting her wasn’t an issue.  

Believer and her first aid kit in hand, Saeran made quick time to the garage, where he buckled her into his personal vehicle.

Fifteen minutes into the 40-minute drive at breakneck speeds to the nearest hospital, Saeran’s phone began to ring. He tapped the button.

“Yes, Savior?” “Ray~” Her saccharine-sweet voice rang over the car speakers, and Saeran had to suppress a shudder. “Where are you going?” “I am taking C-128 to the hospital. She’s catatonic.” “You can’t do that, Saeran. She will ruin everything for us.” “I must. She’s a genius, and we can’t afford to lose her.” “She was a lost cause the moment she started giving you that ‘booster’.” Rika’s voice was bitter, suddenly. “But the booster that C-128 gave me vastly improved my performance. You said so yourself.” Rika made a disgruntled noise. “You must turn around and come back, Ray.” “No. I will not. She needs help.” “Ray. This is an order.” “Too bad.” He said sharply, and hung up.

Next to him, C-128 stirred. “She’ll cleanse you for that, Saeran.”

“I’d love to see her try.” He said, roughly. “You’re awake. What’s in the kit? I peeked, it’s not bandages and ointments.”

“All of my samples. My legal identification. Incriminating Evidence.”

“How do you mean, incriminating evidence?”

“Savior had me keeping track of the cleansing deaths, and I have her initial elixir trial notebook.”

“This will bring down Mint Eye.” Saeran growled. “Why would you do this?”

“She intends… to give them all what she made me take.  The Eternal Party… it’s going to kill everyone.”

Saeran went silent. C-128 wasn’t lying to him. She sounded certain, in a way she hadn’t when she’d told him about the ‘booster’. He’d known she was lying about the magenta vial when he took it, and especially when it’s what she reached for when she was in trouble.

“What does the magenta vial you’ve been giving me for the last few months actually do, C-128?”

“It’s a nullifier.” She said, resignedly. “I designed it to... purge the elixir’s effects... from my system.”

“You’ve been giving me anti-elixir this entire time?”

“Y-yes.” She stuttered, and Saeran just blinked.

“No wonder the Savior was so upset with you.” He sighed. “Thank you, C-128, but you did not need to do that for me, not at this cost.”

“Hey, you took it first. I didn’t really… do… anything…” She muttered sleepily, and Saeran looked over at her in a panic. “C-128. Stay with me, we’re almost there.”

Whatever she tried to say didn’t resolve into words as her head lolled against the headrest.

“Fuck.” Saeran said, and drove faster.

“The toxicology on this woman is insane.” Saeran heard the nurse say. She probably thought she was being quiet enough that he wouldn’t hear her. She was not. “The ingredients in the test vials are unbelievable. How they got their hands on some of these things is beyond me.”

Saeran thought back on some of the things he’d done at the Savior’s direction and knew exactly how they’d come by the trickier parts of the elixir’s ingredients.

“Excuse me.” He said, standing up from C-128’s beside. “Is she going to recover?”

“Ah, Mr. Choi. Yes, Thanks to her own notes your wife should be awake in a few hours, once the sedative wears off, and then we’ll likely be able to discharge her tomorrow.  You are aware that the police would like to talk to you both?” 

He nodded, and stepped out to make a phone call. Wife. Her identification card had said ‘Eunji Choi’. Sure, there were a lot of Chois out there. He could have said they were siblings, but they looked nothing alike. And he had to give them some kind of relation, or they never would have let him in. He hoped she’d forgive his subterfuge. However, with a potential release day of tomorrow, he was going to have to take a risk. With his heart in his throat, he tapped a contact on his phone, and let it ring.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” “Saeyoung. It’s Saeran.”

True to their word, C-128 blinked her eyes open just a few hours later.

“Mr. Saeran?” She asked, blearily, as if to confirm he was still there.

“Just Saeran is fine - I told them we were married so they’d let me stay with you. What should I call you?”

“Oh. Anything but my wallet name.” Her cheeks pinked, but if she had any thoughts about being called his wife, she didn’t share them.  He made a split-second decision, and smiled down at her.

“Okay, Princess.” he said, brushing her hair back off of her forehead, just in time for the doctor to walk back in and check on her due to the change in her vitals from the machines she was hooked up to.

“Ah, my apologies for interrupting. Mrs. Choi, welcome back to the world of the awake. Thanks to your detailed notes, we were able to promptly flush your system of the poison, and you should be back to functioning normally shortly.”

She nodded, and the doctor sighed. “The police will want to speak with you as soon as you are able.”

“They will have to wait until the Family lawyers arrive.” A voice said from the doorway, and Saeran looked up to see one Jumin Han, a man he had previously only seen in photographs, looking stern. Behind him, a mop of red hair Saeran would know anywhere.

[the-bar-sinister]

Lucifer Was an Angel As Well (63782 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

catch up here A sheltered young artist with a tragic past finds herself caught in the web of dark affection by a beautiful and sinister murderer, and his carefree rockstar brother.

-

October 12, 2028– 10:15 am

"It's nice to see you again, Lana."

Kristoph had rearranged his cell very slightly– drawing his chair up near the bars, and a small table along with it. That made sense of course, since they'd be talking for longer today, and he'd probably be taking notes.

After all, she was on official business from the prosecutor's office, to prepare Kristoph Gavin for his new position and his community service.

She remembered the view on the other side of the bars intimately, and the excitement and fear of realizing that very soon you’d see the outside world again, at least in some capacity.

It was nice to see him. She took stock of his expression as she settled herself into the chair with a genuine smile. Soon, Kristoph Gavin would take to the courts once more– this time on her side of the courtroom. He looked, in her opinion, pretty happy about it.

“It’s nice to see you too, Kristoph. I hear you’ve been keeping well…with lots of company. I’m pleased.” 

Kristoph smiled even wider, his hands folded in his lap. "Oh yes, I've been getting lots of company this last month. It's been quite a comfort."

Lana adjusted her red scarf around her neck– a new one that Jake had purchased her as a ‘welcome back’ gift, geometrically patterned with a fringe at its end.

“I can only imagine, comfort bolstered by the good news, no doubt.” She leaned on her hand with a smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit more often. I’ve been behind the scenes working to secure this opportunity for you.” 

"You're more than forgiven,Lana, dear." He leaned a little toward her. "Even if you weren't helping me, I know you're busy organizing your own life beyond these bars. It's been treating you well, I hope?"

Lana nodded against her curled fingers, a thoughtful smile on her face. 

“That I have. It’s been treating me well. I’ve made amends with my dear sister, though– she’s often busy nowadays bustling about on her globe trotting investigations. They’ve given me an office again, right by the Chief Prosecutor’s.”

"Well, well! It sounds like Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth is happy to have you back then– or does he just want to keep you close?" Kristoph seemed to consider the matter, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Regardless, I'm glad to hear you're doing well. And your sister."

“I’d say the latter would be sensible.” Lana chuckled wryly “But he does seem to genuinely trust me. Which I’m glad for– he was my protege, after all. I think he’s glad for my return, and for my judgment now that it’s unclouded by Gant’s threats.”

She smiled at him. “thank you– and soon you’ll hopefully be doing a little better yourself. I’m to teach you all about the prosecutor’s path, after all.” 

"What a delightfully dramatic way to put it." Kristoph laughed musically. "One thing I'm going to have to learn to keep up with is typical prosecutor showmanship, for certain."

Lana laughed.

“It’s become an increasingly important skill. Back in my day , why…it was simpler. But each year the prosecutors become stranger and stranger, I’ve been thinking of how to keep up myself. My detective thinks I should join him and Diego in the ‘western’ theme, of course.” She smirked at him “any thoughts? Or do you think the handcuffs will carry the weight of impression for you?” 

"The cuffs will certainly contrast with my usual image– that's for certain. But I'll have to give it some thought. I wouldn't want to be considered too plain," he smirked teasingly. "Do you think you'll follow the suggestion and trade your epaulets for spurs? Maybe you ought to go the opposite way, and start wearing a sword to court."

She chuckled into her hand. “No, absolutely not. One western themed prosecutor is enough. It’d be insufferable if I joined in. I may, however, bring a sword. Lean into the military angle. The judge should be amused, if nothing else. As for yourself…it’s a chance to reinvent. Have fun with it.” 

"I'll give it due consideration," he agreed, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully. "But I gather we have more to go over today than just fashion, more's the pity."

It was true. Lana had a whole stack of procedure material to go over with him, paperwork for him to sign, etc. But more interesting than all of that was the news that the chief prosecutor was intending to assign him cases within the week. Minor, straightforward ones, Lana was sure were meant to test his ability on the other side of the aisle.

Lana shifted to pull the stack of papers out of her bag to rest them on her lap, looking amused as she held them up. 

“More’s the pity. I’m afraid I’m already putting you to work. I hope your beautiful hands are ready to sign away for a few hours…because I’m going to have to catch you up on procedure quite fast.” She smiled wryly at him “because you’re going behind the bench by the end of the week.” 

"Well!" Kristoph's surprise and pleasure were written obvious on his face. "Nevermind my hands for now– let's get started!"

November 3, 2028– 1:05 pm

Kay leaned back in her chair, idly playing around with one of her lockpicking sets and a heavy padlock. She hadn’t exactly been out thieving very much lately, not since the start of her job as Miles’ official assistant, but it never hurt to keep yourself from becoming rusty.

Things had been changing around her as of late, the once quiet and understaffed prosecution office was now bustling, and she had recently re-hired prosecutors coming to her desk several times a day to ask for meetings with Miles, or to hand her the reports to file.

It was nice, as a thief herself she was a sucker for second chances…so seeing Lana around, Diego, Iris, and Jake…all of them really…had been nice. The justice system was shifting away from the harsh penalties and executions it’d been too used to, and into something more productive…starting right here in the prosecutorial office.

Sure, she’d gotten complaints in Miles’ box– which she’d sometimes taken the liberty of replying to herself– but some people sure loved to judge books by covers. If you asked Kay Faraday, things were looking up.

What the prosecutor's office didn't often get a lot of was unexpected visitors. Calls, sure, but it was surprising to see the unfamiliar figure shuffling through the door towards the reception desk. He was a tall and lanky man, somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s, with a pair of cheap black rayban sunglasses on his narrow, pointy face. He was dressed somewhat respectably in a striped polo shirt, but the pale blue jeans on his narrow hips had seen better days. Chin length blond hair framed his sharp chin.

“....” Kay slipped her lockpicks up her sleeve and folded her hands together with a raise of her eyebrow. “can I help you?” 

The man smiled widely, and Kay felt like she could count every one of his large, squarish, crookedly arranged teeth. She noticed that she he had a bundle of manilla folders under one arm.

He sauntered up to the counter and put the folders down, offering her his large, flat hand for a shake. "I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. I have a bit of an unusual situation. My name's Carter Ackerman. You're–" he glanced at the nameplate on her desk, "Kay Faraday?"

“That’s my name, Mr. Ackerman. Well deduced.” Kay said with a low snicker “are you here to speak with a prosecutor? I don’t recall seeing your name on the appointment list.” 

"No, no appointment I'm afraid! A bit of an unusual situation," he repeated. "I'm actually just here to make sure I had the right Miles Edgeworth, you see. I've been trying to track down a relative, and his name kept coming up, you see."

Kay’s eye twitched. In all her years following Miles Edgeworth around and meeting weirdos on their investigations, she never met someone with a vocal tic that made her immediately think about kicking them in the knees.

If she heard ‘you see’ one more time, she was going to scream.

“Is the Mr. Edgeworth you’re looking for the Chief Prosecutor? Because if so, yes. You’re looking for a family member?” 

He scratched his hair and grinned wider at her. "That's a bit what I'm trying to figure out, Miss Faraday! The family member I'm looking for is Miss Vera Misham, and there's a Miles Edgeworth who keeps coming up in the paperwork, you see? So I'm wondering if I've got the right one on the horn so to speak."

Vera Misham??

Kay jolted in surprise as she looked up at the man in confusion. 

“...you’re related to Miss Misham?” As far as any of their research had come up with…Vera MIsham’s only family was her dead father. 

"Yes ma'am!" He ducked his head bashfully, his long, stringy hair bouncing around his chin, and his glasses briefly jolting on his nose. "Cousin by technicality you see, but I'd describe myself as more of an uncle figure. Bit frustrated with the system right now, between you and me. I only just heard about the tragedy a few months ago, and I've started trying to track her down, you see? Sounds like you know her?"

Kay Faraday stared at him in utter confusion. 

“You only just heard about it? No offense sir, but it was all over the national news. But if you’re looking to speak to Mr. Edgeworth regarding Vera, I can give him a call.” 

"Would you do that for me, Ms. Faraday? That'd be very kind of you, very kind." He leaned on her desk, one hand on his manilla folders.

Kay’s eyes were drawn to the folders as she reached out to her phone. 

“...might I ask what all that is?” 

"You can just tell him I'm concerned about Vera, and I'd like to get in touch."

November 3, 2028– 1:42 pm

Carter Ackerman was in Miles Edgeworth's office for about a half an hour. When he left, he gave Kay a jaunty wave, and whistled as he left the building.

Kay's desk intercom buzzed almost immediately. 

"Kay– could I have you in my office for a few minutes?" Miles asked. She knew him well. He sounded annoyed.

“Hooooooooo boy.” Kay hissed through her teeth “I knew it. I knew this was comin’.”

She stood up and hurried to join her boss by his side. If nothing else, the gossip was gonna be good.

Miles was leaning back in his chair, playing with his glasses in one hand. "Make sure the door's closed, thank you, Kay."

Oh yeah. It was going to be good gossip.

She shut the door behind her and sauntered over to lean on the desk “...alright, boss. Spill the tea.” 

He slipped his glasses back on his nose and wound his fingers together. "That was Vera Misham's cousin– apparently. He's seeking protective custody on her."

Kay’s brow furrowed. 

“you’re fuckin’ kidding. She’s an adult , why the hell’s her cousin asking for protective custody?” She crossed her arms after hopping atop his desk to sit “and I thought we didn’t turn up any family when she was orphaned, anyway.” 

"We didn't," he agreed. "And she's very much an adult, as we recently discussed. A fact which I was happy to remind him of. I'm very suspicious of this man, Kay. I'd like you to do some research into his background if you would. When he left the office, I got the impression that he;s going to try to make a claim in court. To have her declared mentally incompetent and in need of guardianship."

Kay’s expression twitched in anger that she barely…JUST barely restrained. 

“Mentally incompetent…Vera?? You’re kidding me. She’s a capable young woman! She’s in the frickin’ police academy, and he wants to try to make some kinda claim?” She flexed her fingers, her eyes narrowing as she tugged on the bottom of her gloves “I’ll steal the truth for you, boss. Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of what this guy’s fucking deal is.” 

"I'll be counting on you, Kay."

November 17, 2028– 2:15 pm

October had passed like a flash of lightning, and November was threatening to race forward at the same pace. The pace of Vera's studies had increased, and she felt like she barely had time to reply to her angel's letters– but she did every time, as faithful with her correspondence as she was dutiful with her work. It was all good news– they'd already started letting him prosecute small, simple cases in court. Cases that only required him to be escorted to the courthouse and back.

Somewhere in the hazy rush of days, too, she'd gotten word that Klavier and Trucy had returned from Khura'in, bringing Apollo successfully home, as well as a few new friends.

It was exciting, genuinely exciting. She let the good news carry her even through the difficulty of her increasing pace and difficulty of the training. The few new friends were a surprise, but she’d texted Klavier that she wanted to meet them as soon as possible– she’d even written to Kristoph about the relayed news with a kind of curious amusement.

Of course, she kept an ear out…part of her utterly desperate to hear what sort of cases he was on and just how the prosecutor’s office was accepting him.

It inspired her, urging her forward with the desperation to graduate with the kinds of honors that would allow Mr. Edgeworth to grant her wish to stand by Kristoph’s sign as his assigned detective. 

She had her angel's latest letter on her desk in her stack of papers as she listened to a lecture on evidence procedural and handling procedure.

The best thing about her angel's letters perhaps, was that ever since she'd signed hers with a heart– Kristoph had signed his with one as well.

Her heart had skipped a beat the first time she saw it…and ever since, it’d warmed it every time she looked over a letter. Whenever she felt like she wanted to give up…whenever she felt weak or scared, she just looked at the letter and let the heart bolster her forward side by side with Pearl.

As the lecture droned on, she snuck another glance at it. 

The cases themselves haven't been very interesting, I'm afraid– mostly thefts and simple assaults– but just being able to stand in court again has been very refreshing. I feel already I've become accustomed to going on the attack rather than playing defensively. I'm looking forward to the day when I'll be able to investigate a crime scene myself, which I'm told may not be too far in the future.Vera imagined him there, smiling like an angel in the courtroom as he pressed his advantage…for a moment the imagining took her away from the lecture before she shook herself back to it and returned her attention to the teacher.

She couldn’t lapse now. Not when he was waiting for her. 

Her daydream was interrupted when she heard the instructor change topics. 

"Some of you have already heard about your upcoming internship next month in partnership with the prosecutorial office. I'm passing out packets relevant to that now. There will be two weeks over Christmas where classes will be suspended and your main duty will be to shadow your assigned prosecutor."

Vera perked up, her eyes wide as she put her hand to her lips to stifle her smile. She couldn’t help but wonder…who? Who would she be assigned to? 

Pearl caught her eye from the desk next to her, grinning with barely restrained eagerness and curiosity as the instructor came around and left packets in sealed envelopes with their names on each desk.

"Obviously, the specifics of the case or cases you'll end up shadowing are a mystery to everyone but Lady Justice for now," the instructor chuckled. "But your packet does include the prosecutor that you've been paired with."

Vera flashed her a smile as she held up her packet with a whispered ‘we should share who we got’ before she quietly began picking the flap open with a nod up at the instructor.

She couldn’t help but hope that somehow, impossibly…she might be assigned to Kristoph Gavin. 

Vera shuffled through the boring pages of paperwork until she found the sheet of paper where a name was filled in handwritten on a blank line declaring her assignment. 

The handwriting was familiar. It belonged to chief prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.

The name was familiar, too– it read Kristoph Gavin. Vera gasped, and her hand went to her mouth to stifle it before it…and the ecstatic smile on her face…became noticed by the class.

She felt like she was dreaming. Like the stars had aligned and twisted in her favor…Kristoph Gavin. Her guardian angel…her dream.

She’d even get to intern under him. 

November 17, 2028– 2:45 pm

In the hallway after class, headed back to their dorm, Pearl walked close to Vera, smiling excitedly and clutching her own packet to her chest much like Vera was.

"Can you believe it!" Pearl beamed.

Vera turned to face her as they walked, shuffling excitedly along with her packet clung to her chest.

“I can’t…I almost can’t believe it, Pearl. I get to intern with my guardian angel…” She squeezed it tightly to her heart–. “and you get to with yours…do you think Mr. Edgeworth made sure it happened??” 

"I mean, that was definitely his handwriting, right? I thought I recognized it, but you'd know for sure, right?" Pearl bit her lip. "I'm sure he made it happen. I mean, it's not like anyone else could make him do it if he didn't want to!"

“It absolutely was…it was absolutely his writing.” She bumped her shoulder against Pearl’s, laughing happily. “which means he’s giving us our chance , Pearl– like a trial run before our careers really start.” 

Pearl laughed and bumped her back before she opened the door of their dorm and held it for her.

"Knowing Mr. Edgeworth, that's probably exactly what it is, huh?"

Vera nodded as she slipped inside. 

“Almost certainly. He’s Mr. Cautious after all. He’s probably going to be keeping a close eye on how we work with Mr. Gavin and Mr. Armando.” 

Pearl followed her in, and shut the door. "Which means this is our chance to impress him, so we get the permanent positions that we want. We'll have to ace it!"

Vera pumped her fist with a nearly inaudible giggle. “It’s you and me, Pearl…we absolutely can! We’ve got this, right?” 

Pearl put her hand around Vera's fist and squeezed it. "We've totally got this! and if you need any help, you know you can count on me, alright?"

Vera’s other hand reached out to grab Pearl’s to squeeze them all together. “Promise…I’ll come to you first thing. Same goes for you, okay?”

"I'll count on you, too!" she beamed. "I know that we can pull this off if we work our hardest."

Soon. Soon Vera would achieve her dream. She'd be working with her guardian angel– no bars between them.

“Let’s let nothing stand in our way.” she beamed back, her whole body shaking with anticipation. Over two years ago, Vera’s life had been nothing but the rotting studio and her father…and the memories of the devil’s affectionate smile. Two years ago she could have never grown enough to get this far.

But here she was. Bolstered by the hopes of herself, Pearl…her big brother, and her guardian angel…and with the permission and blessing of Miles Edgeworth, she was finally going to become something irreplaceable.

Kristoph Gavin’s precious detective. 

November 18, 2028– 6:15 pm

The next day there was a text message from Miles Edgeworth, and later, after classes, a taxi he sent for her, to fulfill the invitation to dinner he'd extended. According to his message, he wanted to talk about her internship and 'other details'.

It wasn’t a surprise he wanted to talk about the internship– she imagined he still had his reservations on it after all. It was the other details that left her wondering as she entered the taxi and let it drive her to the restaurant.

She wasn’t sure if it was something to do with her letters, or possibly with her apartment while she’d been gone. 

Vera was glad she'd dressed up in one of her newer outfits, when the taxi pulled up and let her out at an expensive French cuisine restaurant. She had on another of the frilled ‘lolita’ dresses that Trucy had initially recommended and she’d become attached to. It was layered, with deep blue bows around the hem of the skirt and a matching ribbon around her neck. The restaurant, meanwhile, was one that she was aware was popular with the prosecutorial office, judging by mentions she'd heard of it before. It wasn't that far from the office itself, either.

It wasn’t a surprise. It seemed every time a prosecutor invited her out to dinner, it was at a place she couldn’t have even fathomed when she was only a little younger.

She gave the man at the door a nervous smile and asked if he could point her to the Edgeworth table. 

The maitre d' gave a little bow and ushered her into the handsome dining room of the restaurant, filled with greenery, and lit by a swarm of tiny electric candles. There was a band playing classical music in the corner.

As she was led to her table, she noticed detective Dick Gumshoe and Maggey Byrde dressed up at another booth, and Maggey gave her a little wave as she passed by. She was so distracted by it that she didn't notice that someone else was sitting at the table Edgeworth was at until she'd arrived.

There, sitting at the candlelit table with its high backed chairs, was Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth– and convict Prosecutor Kristoph Gavin.

Vera gasped the moment she turned from her wave to Maggey, her black gloved hands raised to her lips as she stared at Kristoph in his chair. Joy, surprise, excitement, devotion…they all spun within her and nearly made her dizzy as she came to a stop only feet from the table.

“Oh…” she whispered, “oh my.”

The maitre d' pulled out the chair for her at the table, and as she stood there in shock both men turned to greet her.

"Good evening, Vera, it's lovely to see you again," Kristoph purred with his usual angelic smile on his face. She couldn't help but notice that he was bound in a thick and obvious set of manacles.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought company to dinner, Vera," Edgeworth said, inclining his head toward her. He smiled, but he looked pensive. "I thought it would be best, given that your internship experience will be a little different than your fellow students– considering."

“C-considering, y-yes…” She gave Miles a broad smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Edgeworth!”

She turned then to her guardian angel. “I don’t mind at all, h-hello Mr. Gavin. It’s…it’s absolutely wonderful to see you again…especially out at a dinner like this.” 

"I have to agree," Kristoph nodded. "It's been a while since I've been out to dinner. And with such good company, too."

As Vera arranged herself at the table– Edgeworth on her right and her angel on her left– the maitre d' poured wine into the glass at her place.

She gave him a thankful smile, before she sheepishly took the glass and raised it to her lips.

“Very good company…I’m surprised, but very happy, that you’re here, Mr.Gavin.” She glanced shyly at Edgeworth before she murmured “I missed you. I’m pretty excited that I get to work with you on my internship.” 

"I'll admit I'm a bit surprised to be here as well," Kristoph said with a charming smile. "I've thanked Mr. Edgeworth profusely for the opportunity. Both to be here tonight, and to work with you."

"Indeed," Edgeworth nodded. "I must say the both of you certainly seem enthused. That's… good energy for the department, if nothing else."

Vera sunk shyly into her chair with a sheepish smile. “good energy…? Do detectives not normally enjoy working with their prosecutors?” 

"That all depends on the prosecutor and the detective of course," Miles shrugged. "I'm told that many detectives find prosecutor's to be…. stuck up. Annoying. Tyrannical, occasionally."

Vera wasn't sure if this was meant to be a joke, but Kristoph smiled. "Occasionally I used to hear prosecutors call detectives lazy, irritating, slovenly…"

she squeaked, holding her hands up.

“Noooooo! I can promise I’m not lazy, Mr. Gavin.” She blushed, “or the other things, either.”

Timidly, she sipped her drink and looked between them “Mr. Klavier’s not stuck up or tyrannical. Though I have heard Ema complaining about him..”

Miles frowned. "The two of them have a… fraught relationship it seems. I try not to interfere."

Kristoph sipped his wine. The chains on his manacles clinked as he raised the glass. "They really haven't changed since they were teenagers. The same old squabble since back in germany. Klavier doesn't mean anything by it– Ema, I can't quite tell."

It was strange to be having such a normal conversation– even with the manacles reminding her that Kristoph was a prisoner.

“...since Germany?” Vera asked with genuine curiosity. “They’ve known one another that long?”

It was so normal…so pleasant. Mr. Edgeworth didn’t seem upset by her and Kristoph’s proximity, and the conversation didn’t have the heavy air of condemnation she feared it may.

It was…nice. Nice to hear more about her guardian angel’s life and her ‘big brother’...and her dear friends, while also in the company of Miles Edgeworth. 

"So they did," Kristoph nodded. "Klavier and I were living in europe at the time, and they met at the legal academy there."

"They only narrowly missed my sister Franziska, as I recall," Miles murmured. 

Kristoph swirled his wine in his glass and his chains clinked again.

"Yes, she was already prosecuting at the time. Actually, as I recall, Klavvy was rather inspired by your sister. To become a prosecutor rather than an attorney." He turned toward Vera and said, probably for her benefit, "Ms. Von Karma was prosecuting at 13. The youngest in the field to date."

Vera put her hands to her lips “oh wow…she must be a very impressive woman to inspire b..Klavier like that, and to have gotten started s-so early.”

It was amazing…the youngest prosecutor in the field ever, still holding the record even now. At 13, Vera was an expert forger…a genius like Franziska, she supposed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met her, Mr. Edgeworth.” 

"She's been in and out of the country for quite some time," Miles explained. "She no longer prosecutes regularly, rather she's the department liaison with Interpol, and does most of her work within their jurisdiction. I could arrange a lunch if you'd like to meet her some time."

"A very driven young woman– though I suppose not so young these days," Kristoph mused. 

“M-maybe.” Vera sipped her wine “I’m trying to get to know more people, after all.”

She looked up at Kristoph with a curious smile. “you knew her, Mr. Kristoph?” 

"She and I faced one another in court more than once at the time," Kristoph chuckled. "Three times, in fact. And she left with her perfect record intact. Some might have been embarrassed to losing to a teenager, but there's no shame in being beaten by a prodigy."

There was a little twitch at the edge of Kristoph's charming smile.

Miles seemed to grimace at the memory. "My sister was very… aggressive at the time."

Vera slowly reached out and patted Kristoph on the arm. 

“you’ll get her next time…boss…” she murmured with a timid smile. 

That made him laugh softly, and he tucked a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "Unlikely, since she's no longer prosecuting, and here I am. But who knows what the future holds. Speaking of prosecution though, I do believe Mr. Edgeworth had some business he wanted to get out of the way?"

Vera startled a bit, looking up at Miles with wide eyes. She’d been curious…she knew Miles likely didn’t invite her out here for small talk, he’d mentioned something he had to say. Did it have something to do with the fact her guardian angel was here?

"Ah, some, yes," Miles nodded. "Given the unique situation of your internship. First of all I deemed it too unwieldy to have you conduct the internship from prison, so you'll be granted a small office for the duration, in the building, and transported back and forth at the beginning and end of the day."

"I can see why you;d make that judgment, Prosecutor Edgeworth," Kristoph nodded. "I'll still thank you for your generosity."

Vera put her hands to her lips. 

“useful!” She breathed “that will make…make assisting Mr. Kristoph with his duties and investigations much easier, Mr. Edgeworth, sir…” 

"Indeed," Edegworth said, "It would be inconvenient to have you going back and forth from the prison all day, so there we are."

Vera leaned forward, hoping she didn’t come off as too excited as she asked “and I’ll be allowed to come and go in it, Mr. Edgeworth? As his detective…intern.” 

"Indeed. This is very much a trial run for your ambition, Vera, in more ways than one," Mr. Edgeworth said.

Kristoph gave Vera an encouraging smile from across the table.

Vera’s heart thumped in her chest. It was her trial run for her ambition in more ways than one. She could only imagine that he meant what she thought he meant by that…

Was he tentatively accepting of it? Of her affection for Kristoph, and her desire to be by his side?

He had to be. Which meant she simply couldn’t prove him wrong in this trial run.

She raised her wine glass to her lips. 

“then I promise, Mr. Edgeworth. I won’t let you down.” her eyes fell on Kristoph with a smile behind her wine glass “I think me and Mr. Kristoph will manage to impress you by the end..” 

"Excellent," Edgeworth nodded. "I have already impressed upon Mr. Gavin that I will be watching him very closely– and the same goes for you, Vera."

Vera bit her lip. “you will be, Mr. Edgeworth? I suppose you said as much when I asserted my career choice to you. Have you seen my results so far at the academy?”

"I have, Vera, and they've been exceptional," he nodded. "So I'm counting on you not to let me down when it comes to practical experience as well."

"I think Miss Misham will continue to be exceptional, if you want my opinion," Kristoph purred.

Vera turned a deep pink, and her fingers wound together as the praise warmed her like nothing else. 

“I’m striving to be nothing l-less than exceptional, sirs.” Tentatively she reached out to pat Kristoph’s hand “I aim to be the best forensic investigator of my generation, and I won’t stop even after I’ve…I’ve impressed the both of you.” 

Edgeworth's eyes tracked her hand across the table all the way as she put it on Kristoph's hand– and immediately he poured more wine into his glass, perhaps in response.

"Indeed. I'm… looking forward to having my expectations exceeded," Miles murmured. "In any case there is some other business to discuss, I'm afraid."

Under the table, Vera felt a shoe press against her own– Kristoph's.

Vera ducked her head with a small smile as she allowed her foot to press gently back against Kristoph’s, rubbing subtly against it as she looked up at Edgeworth. “other business, Mr. Edgeworth? Is it about the internship, or something else?” 

"The internship is… potentially impacted by it," Edgeworth said. He took a sip of his wine. "I've been contacted by a man claiming to be one of your relatives, Vera."

Vera watched Kristoph raise an eyebrow. "Well. That's surprising, isn't it?"

She couldn’t stop herself from twitching in surprise. “A relative? Of mine? But I only ever had papa…he told me there was nobody else after my mother left us…” 

Kristoph's fingers curled subtly around her own.

"Indeed," Miles nodded. "And I confirmed as much several years ago when I took over your filings. However, he is making the claim that he's your cousin, and he does have paperwork to prove as much."

"What does he want?" Kristoph asked. There was a firm, suspicious tone in the question.

"He's seeking a protective order."

"Charming." Kristoph did not make it sound like he felt it was charming at all.

“........” Vera’s eyes were wide, and her smile had all but died as her fingers tightened against Kristoph’s.

“A protective order…on me? I don’t know him, I don’t h-have a cousin…and even if I did I wouldn’t ne-need one.”

"I agree with that," Miles nodded. "You're an adult. You live independently. There's no need for something like that. But he's making a legal claim and it will need to be countered."

"Wonderful," Kristoph drawled. "A bogus legal claim for a protective guardianship. Should I offer to marry her to cut the legs out of his attempt?"

Vera turned a vivid red, and she was sure Miles Edgeworth noticed the wide and flustered grin before she smothered it into her usual placid expression.Marriage to save her from whoever this ‘cousin’ of hers was…the romance of it made her squirm in her seat at a loss for words.

Miles Edgeworth choked on his wine, and grabbed his chest. "I– Mr. Gavin, I think in this case such a thing would only give ammunition to his claim."

Ammunition to his claim? Vera looked up at Miles with concern. Why in the world would that give ammunition to it? Unless..

"Pardon my humor in poor taste then."

“...Is…Is he basing this order of protection on my communication with Kristoph?” she guessed in a shaky tone. 

"No, he's unaware of it, as far as I know," Miles said, shaking his head and blotting his face with a napkin. "He's basing the claim on some letters between himself and your father from a number of years ago, discussing your mental health, and your father's apparent wish that if anything were to happen to him, that you be entrusted into this man's care."

"Funny how letters keep coming up," Kristoph murmured. His hand hadn't left hers.

Vera’s fingers twitched against his, and she held it tighter as her breath caught in her throat.

“Father asked that I be....entrusted to his care? I’ve never heard of anything like this, I c-can’t believe it. And even then I’ve grown s-since I escaped father’s care.” 

"So you have," Miles nodded. "You're an independent adult. I have no wish to see this go through any more than you do."

"And I assume that you're doing everything in your power to fight it, Mr. Edgeworth?" Klavier asked. His tone was light, but there was a sharpness in his eyes.

"Obviously."

Vera took several soft, shaking breaths…she could feel the way she was shaking…the quake of her fingers against Kristoph’s and the sick fluttery feeling of anxiety welling within her.

The very thought that there was someone out there trying to take her away from everything she’d built and drag her back down into the dark terrified her more than she could take. Old habits and the difficulty she’d once found in simple speech began to well up as she brought her fingers to her lips and bit her thumbnail to try and calm herself.

If it were true, and her father had spoken with someone who’d take her when he’d died, it could only mean he was selling her–passing her on to some other criminal to print money with, just another tool like her paintbrushes and paints. 

There was a clink of chains, and Kristoph moved his hand, putting it on her shoulder. It sounded as if he and Miles had continued their conversation while Vera was struggling to breathe. 

"Vera. Vera, are you listening to me?"

“H…hhh..” she breathed sharply. Her vision was swimming as she looked up at him with watery eyes “huh?” 

"You're having a panic attack and dissociating, Vera. Tell me where we are right now."

Vera swallowed thickly. For a moment she had no idea, the phantom smell of paint thinner in the air as she shook her head. 

It couldn’t be back at the house. Miles would have never visited there. She shivered and forced herself to focus on the room around her and not her spiraling thoughts.

“Restaurant.” she murmured. “..a..a restaurant.” 

"Good. And who's here with you?"

“M..” she looked quickly between them, “Miles Edgeworth and my guardian angel.” 

"Good. What kind of chair are you sitting on?"

Vera felt under her, and her perfect recall pulled up the picture of the chair. 

“a mahogany chair with an arched back and carved floral designs in its flourishes. There’s a chip on its left backmost leg that they’ve attempted to disguise and patch with varnish and wood-putty."

"Good. And how are you feeling right now?"

Calmer. She was already calmer. The world had swam back into focus, and she could see Miles Edgeworth sitting there, looking extremely nervous with his napkin wrung between his hands.

Vera smiled gently , her hair falling in her face as she took another breath…this one deep and satisfying.

“Better. I feel calmer.” she murmured. “Sorry about that, Mr. Gavin. Mr Edgeworth…wh-what were you saying?” 

"Mostly we were worrying about you, Vera," Edgeworth said with a frown. "I'm sorry I upset you so much."

Vera shook her head “No, no it wasn’t you Mr. Edgeworth…”

She looked down at her painted nails…one of them chewed through lower than it’d been in years. The taste of polish was on her tongue, sharp and bitter.

“I was just trying to imagine who this ‘cousin’ might be, and I got thinking about my father…how he must have wanted to pass me on like a printing press or some other expensive tool.” 

"Ah," Miles nodded. "I… the thought had crossed my mind as well. But we won't allow that to happen. It would take a disaster of unprecedented magnitude to–"

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Gavin?" 

Kristoph smiled. "I don't think there's any need to discuss nightmare scenarios. The simple fact is that it won't happen.."

"Ah, yes, you're right," Edgeworth nodded and straightened his cravat. "I'll admit, I admire your confidence. And your way with people, I suppose." He glanced at Vera.

"Talking her through her panic attack just now?" Kristoph's smile dimmed very slightly. "I have experience with it, I'm afraid."

Vera ducked her head apologetically again, smiling quietly as she rubbed her fingertip against her jagged nail. 

“Helped a lot.” she admitted “...you do, Mr. Gavin? I can tell…you were…c-calming.” 

"My brother used to have them when we were younger I'm afraid. I got used to soothing him."

"Ah," Edgeworth murmured, still fussing with his cravat. "That would be a useful skill to have in one, if one were susceptible to such a thing. In any case, I'm glad you were able to reassure Vera a bit."

Vera’s fingers reached out again to touch Kristoph’s arm, “I didn’t know he and I had that in common too..” she murmured

She looked at Edgeworth with a shaky smile. 

“...a-anyway. I won’t let it happen either…I don’t intend to let anyone take my future from me.” 

"Good." Edgeworth nodded. "Well then– let's consider business out of the way for now and have dinner. I can fill you in on the rest over coffee."

"That sounds nice, Mr. Edgeworth," Kristoph said with a smile. "Why don't we talk about lighter things for now. Vera, have you seen the menu yet? You might recognize one of the dishes on it."

Vera looked down at the menu, and her expression lit up as she held it up “Vongole!!! I want to order that!” 

[overcastedsays]

welcome to the parody blog where i larp as myself

[pinned post. last update 9/17/2024]

//: intro

[it/its] [they/them] [ze/zer]

welcome to the overcast blog. I got art, gamedev, worldbuilding, and the occasional glimpse into my homebrew D&D campaign. just a strange machine on the World Wide Web looking to have a sensible chuckle.

askbox is wide open.

tag library + stuff I use down below

//: stuff I use

//: programs + specs

[Krita] [Intuous Pro Small] [Blender]

//: utility websites

[ezgif] [cobalt] [cooltext] [online image editor]

//: tags [will be updated as needed]

//: general

#overcastArts - all the things i draw #overcastRedraws - any art that’s a redraw/paintover of another thing (mostly memes) #overcastAnswers - answering asks #overcastReblogs - any reblogs #overcastSays - text posts and general speakery. The occasional joke perhaps. #silly doodles - doodles of the silly variety #has id- posts that have image ids (alt text) #needs id - posts that don’t have an image id

//: creative

#phanon - all of my fanon Phighting stuff. contains but not limited to: Phighting OCs, Phighting skins, any general worldbuilding tomfoolery #plane campaign - the wacky homebrew planes of reality D&D campaign I run.

//: the hot topics (frequently used)

#phighting oc #ultrakill oc #phighting #ultrakill

[go-to-the-mirror]

ATTENTION ATTENTION

IF YOU GET NOTHING ELSE OUT OF THIS POST AND SCROLL AWAY WITHOUT READING THE READ MORE OR APPRECIATING MY WINNING HUMOUR PLEASE JUST. PLEASE JUST LISTEN TO THE SECOND OUTLIERS TRAILER. ITS SO FUCKING LIKE- "HE GRIPS MY ARM WITH A STRENGTH I SHOULD NOT HAVE THOUGHT POSSIBLE AND BEGINS TO TELL ME ABOUT THE STARS" WHO LET JONNY BE THIS GOOD AT VOICE ACTING HHH

That out the way, welcome to 154, aka the episode in which jon and martin say fuck! And jonny does a great job with the voice acting here bc of course he does he's like a fantastic actor and writer or SOMETHING. gosh.

i swear the rest of this is gonna be really tma related, but i heard that trailer today and cant stop thinking about it.

without further ado, @a-mag-a-day, it's TIME for the episode that LEFT US ALL IN SHAMBLES!!

(this is all rambling, my words are not the grand words of episode 152)

Shout out to patreon "Jess?", their name gave me a sensible chuckle.

(sigh) Hm. (sharp inhale) I’ve, uh, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking after what happened with Daisy last week. About- what I can do. What I am. What feels right.

Immediately puts me in mind of

MARTIN I’m sorry. That sounds… (small sigh) That sounds horrible. ARCHIVIST I wish it was, Martin. I really wish it was. But it feels… right.

(MAG 160.11)

Hm.

There was one, this one, that my hand…. pulled back from. I dropped it, twice, when I went to pick it up. Even now, I’m… (slight quaver to his voice) struggling to hit play.

Ok, like, his voice puts me in mind of this line

I don’t like this. I don’t like not being sure what’s going to be in my mind, what thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere, why I just know some statements are what I should be reading.

(MAG 129)

And how like, yeah, if you think about it, that must be really like... there's something else in your head, pushing unwanted "awful knowledge" in it, altering your perceptions, your wants and needs, yourself in a fundamental and unchangeable way, like. UHM. THAT'S TERRIFYING.

God, why's Jonny such a good voice actor? The way he does Jon's... sort of about to laugh in a very bad way voice? That's just fantastic.

I am the avatar of awful knowledge and revealed secrets, so what does it not want me to know?

EATING YOUR PROSTHETIC MEET YOUR ANESTHETIC-

No, but there's this fantastic edit by instagram user archxvist that I listened to before I got to MAG 154, and it's that line, and I/Me/Myself and it's so coool you want to follow her and listen to it (it's pinned on her profile) don't youuuuu

(also it puts me in mind of this line)

ARCHIVIST Healthy? I am an Avatar of voyeuristic terror, who unquestioned craving for knowledge has condemned the entire world to an eternity of torment; healthy i-isn’t- i,it’s not

(MAG 161)

Which 1. HHHHH JON D: ANJSDFDHVD HHHHNHRHHNRNHNHR and 2. is a line that gets stuck in my head all the time and as you can see from point 1... it's not a great time. :( im so sad about him

"When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing, but he heard her breathing, slow and steady and focused, and he immediately knew that she was finally going to- (slight stumble) -kill him. When the garden shears plunged into his chest, he was surprised by how little actual pain there was- just the sudden feeling of moisture on his chest and the realization that his body was growing weak, fading away. He wished she would say she was sorry she was doing this, that she loved him, that she would miss him. But he knew better, and his final thought was a gentle sadness at how little he was surprised."

Lots of things! First of all, Getrude's little stumble is just like :(. She may have been less of a care about people person, and more of a care about the fate of the world person - and doesn't that ache, to know that all those deaths were for nothing - but she was still upset to know that he died. She was still upset when she read his page. And I'm upset about that in turn.

Secondly, why are their deaths so sad, Gerry and Eric's. Like, I just, was this necessary? Yes, yes it was, I'm glad it's like this, it doesn't make me any less sad at that... poor guy, poor Eric. Fuck you, Mary Keay.

GERTRUDE Yes. Well. I’m sorry. ERIC Wasn’t even hard for her, was it? Handing me over? No sign of regret. GERTRUDE (Still a bit shaky) No. ERIC No. GERTRUDE I’m sorry, Eric; I know this must be hard- I just read your death. I didn’t realize it had been quite so…

:(, poor guy.

ERIC God, I was a mess. I mean, part of me kind of suspected she’d killed before, but clearly she hadn’t done it enough to be a decent hand at chopping up and dumping bodies. She was having a real bad time of it. My legs were all over the shop. (Long inhale) Would probably have been funny, if it hadn’t been me.

I like him, he's funny, also jesus christ, mary why the fuck? Just to be evil? Fuck her.

ERIC I don’t know how to describe it. Never was great with words. Bad. It feels bad. All the time. I know that I’m not really Eric. I’m just a memory someone wrote down. It hurts, most of the time. I don’t like it.

"It feels bad."

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's sort of funny. Also interesting, I never really... paid attention to the statement/Gertrude part of this episode, and I mean it's interesting, I didn't know they weren't them. Makes sense, I suppose.

ERIC You too. (beat) You got old. GERTRUDE Better than being dead. ERIC (Short sigh of a laugh) Fair enough.

I love their little dynamic, they're friends your honour :3

ERIC S’pose that makes sense. And Gerry? Have you seen my son?

HIS DAD USED TO CALL HIM GERRY!! (starts sobbing)

ERIC Oh, just thinking. Five years as her husband, god knows how many as her possession, and she just couldn’t stand being bound in the same book as me. GERTRUDE Hm. I’m sorry. ERIC Yeah, it doesn’t feel great.

:(

^ that's going to be like half of my reactions

GERTRUDE James? He died about twelve years ago. Elias is Head of the Institute now. ERIC Elias? Elias Bouchard, seriously? GERTRUDE Hm, he’s changed a lot. ERIC Must have!

HAHAHA! THE WAY THEY TALK ABOUT HIM, IT'S SO FUNNY

also uh. huh. you know i still don't get how the people who got elias was jonah magnus before the 158 reveal did it, but this does make it obvious in hindsight.

ERIC Well, that’s it, isn’t it? I suppose that’s why she gave me to you. One final screw you to the Eye. GERTRUDE Eric. How did you quit? (Eric holds back.) GERTRUDE (warning) Eric. ERIC (short laugh) Sorry. I just- (laugh) I don’t mean to be a dick, but- well, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any sort of- leverage, I guess? Just a- little bit of power. It’s kind of nice.

Hm, both :( and I really like him. he's funny.

GERTRUDE I suppose he might be useful.

...

hhhhhhhh

ERIC I don’t want to disappear on her terms. Or yours. I want to speak my piece, have it recorded.

fuck yea dude!

but the mystery, the promise of secret knowledge, of seeing something that no one else was privy to. A secret world that gripped my imagination.

ok, eye guy. fairly eye.

So when I finished my Masters in library science and saw a vacancy at the Magnus Institute, of all places, I jumped at the chance. The chance to pursue my passion and my career at the same time seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up!

THE ONLY GUY THERE WITH A DEGREE IN LIBRARY SCIENCE IS THE ONE THAT QUIT, LOVE HIM FOR THAT, HE ACTUALLY KNEW WHAT HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DOING

(Amused, wistful hm) I knew she didn’t have an uncle. I knew the man was dead.

Good lord. That's... good lord.

She never promised anything, not even in her vows. She never betrayed me. Not like you. She never played dumb when I was stalked by bloated, blood sucking things, or told me I was imagining it when your friend Adelard dropped a screaming box into the Thames. She didn’t try to keep me in the dark just so I wouldn’t stop being useful; she never made me complicit in a thousand nightmares, and lives ruined for the sick joy of some otherworldly voyeur.

Really shitty boss. Really a shitty boss. God, poor guy, poor everyone who worked for her.

And I just... she really had the audacity to kill Emma, with all that blood on her hands?

...

And that’s when you turned nasty, isn’t it? When all your resources, they no longer want to serve your purpose. I suppose you didn’t know there was a way out, a way to escape. But if you had, would you have told me?

Hm

It was fitting, I suppose. Even after everything, she made me taste blood one last time.

headinhands :(

ERIC Then if you don’t mind? I think I’d like to go away now.

hmhnrhr that's just... the way that line is delivered

(The Archivist sighs heavily.) ARCHIVIST Fuck.

INDEED!

MARTIN Look, Peter, I- [The door is thrown open. The Archivist bursts in.] ARCHIVIST Martin! MARTIN (Overlapping) Oh- (quieter) Jon! God, don’t do that!

MAKING A SOUND LIKE A CAT COUGHING UP A HAIRBALL RN NHNHRNHNRR

MARTIN No, it’s fine! I j- you just surprised me, that’s- (surprised) Jesus, you alright? You- You look like hell.

His only description is looking like shit. I love him so much.

ARCHIVIST Oh! Uh, Ri, Right, I um, God, I get weak. Hungry, I guess, sort of. I, I’ve been trying to avoid, being, um- sticking to old statements? Thank you for your little intervention, by the way. MARTIN Look, I wouldn’t have to if you’d hadn’t been- ARCHIVIST (Overlapping) Yes no, I know, I know; I’m sorry; that didn’t come out right; honestly, thank you. It’s been hell, but- I, I did need to hear it.

He stutters so much when he's talking to Martin, dude, get a grip. But also, well, I'm glad, yay! Good for them and stuff. Maybe with the power of heartfelt gratitude and love and stuff they'll gouge their eyes out and elope together? PLEASE!

ARCHIVIST Yeah. But it’s- (heavy inhale) It’s pretty drastic. MARTIN What, you gotta gouge your eyes out, or something? (Beat.) MARTIN (CONT’D) Fuck off.

AHHAHHAAHAHAHHAHHAH THATS JUST SO FUNNY, JUST THE SILENCE LIKE "UH WELL" QAHJDFSHAJDFSHJFJJSF IM SURE IT'LL ALL TURN OUT FINE

right?

ARCHIVIST I, I, I don’t know; I suppose. I, If your vision comes back, the Beholding probably does as well- probably. But i-it’s not like it’s easy to only blind yourself temporarily anyway I-

First thing that popped into my head was that in a nuclear explosion you can go temporarily blind for a couple of hours from the light. Enjoy that factoid, I guess.

ARCHIVIST No, you’re the first. MARTIN Why? ARCHIVIST Uh, because… because, because I trust you. I, I’m trying to think about what to do, and I… (exhale) If I did try this, I- I don’t want to do it alone. But we could leave here, you and me. Escape.

ITS FINE THIS TIME ITS GOING TO TURN OUT FINE, FUCK ITS GONNA BE FINE ITS GONNA BE SO FINE

"because I trust you" "we could leave here, you and me" HHHH

MARTIN I mean, (mirthless laugh) Could you even survive at this stage? Is there anything else keeping you alive? ARCHIVIST Uh, I,I don’t know. I don’t- know. But… maybe it’s worth it? The risk- y,you and me, together, getting out of here- (Martin sniffs.) ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) -one way or another.

ONE WAY OR ANOTHER

one way or another

ARCHIVIST Cut the tether. Send them away. Maybe we both die. Probably. But maybe not. (Emotional) Maybe, maybe everything works out, and we end up somewhere else. MARTIN Together? ARCHIVIST (Emotional) One way or another. Together.

(MAG 200, but you already knew that, didn't you)

it's fine. i'm fine. it's fine

[ID: Drawing of a person sitting at a computer, crying. /End ID]

ARCHIVIST But what if you don’t? (Small exhale) We could just leave. I mean, whatever their plan is for me, I am damn sure that doing that isn’t it. I’d derail everything- we could derail everything, and then just- leave!

THEY COULD HAVE! ALEXA PLAY ROLLING IN THE DEEP!

why... why... why...

[ID: CC!GoodTimesWithScar with his head in his hands. /End ID]

MARTIN Who are you kidding, Jon? You’re not going to do any of that. ARCHIVIST I, I, I could. MARTIN (Still brimming with false laughter) But you won’t. That’s why you came to me, isn’t it? (The Archivist exhales.) MARTIN (CONT’D) You know I can’t do it, not now; you don’t want to blind yourself; you don’t want to die; what you want is a reason to not do those things, so- you come to me. Well, you’re welcome. B,Because I can’t follow you on this one.

im literally, literally, in real life, crying. podded cast. why? why?

ARCHIVIST The Lonely’s really got you, hasn’t it? MARTIN You know, I think it always did.

no words, just sadness.

ARCHIVIST (Quiet) Maybe. (beat) Well, I’ll be here, if you ever need me. MARTIN (Also quieter, softer) I hope so. ARCHIVIST (Faster) Just-don’t-wait-too-long, okay? [He moves towards the door, sighs.] ARCHIVIST (CONT’D) If you haven’t already.

"I hope so" wh yherrghweherfv wdaj "just dont wait too long okay" hnhrfthrjhfsdehhhh hhrhnnhhh hhh h but he just they just htey they thyfruscdafsfidvjjfhvdxnj "if you havent already" AAAA just KILL ME it would HURT LESS

Now, let's see what past me had to say, while current me is sad. very sad /ref

It's so funny how despite me thinking it had 200 episodes the magnus archives ended on episode 154 with Jon and [Martin] running away and getting married wow what a plot twist

(Instagram Story. 2 September, 2022)

Jon and Martin are so lovely together and they are together and they all left in episode 154 and they are all happy did you know that? Also no kayaking or.. freaky tables happened and everyone is ok did you know that wow it's so weird how episode 155 is just nothing for 24 minutes ahaha i love the magnus archives what a satisfying and happy ending

(Instagram Story. 2 September, 2022)

Everyone go home the magnus archives is over and martin said yes to what was essentially a weird marriage proposal and they all left. True & real

(Instagram Story. 2 September, 2022)

Obsessed with how this is the happiest ending for them /neg

(Instagram Story. 2 September, 2022)

I'm going to elaborate on this - I'm really upset that this is the happiest plausible ending. There's no escaping, no preventing Tim and Sasha's deaths, and all they had to go through. Their happiest ending is after so much has already happened. After Jon's gone through the wringer, 13 out of 14/15 (yes, 15) marks. After Martin's gone through the wringer, what with Jane Prentiss, and the lonely, and tim and jon dying, and everything. After Tim and Sasha are already dead. This is their happiest ending.

Not okay!!!

DIVERSITY WIN! LOVE WINS HHH

(Instagram Story. 2 September, 2022)

[(about the edit mentioned previously)] Love that this is from the episode where [Jon] proposed to martin (real not fake)

(Instagram Story. 2 September, 2022)

AND ALSO I FOUND THIS IN OLD MESSAGES TO MY LOVELY BOYFRIEND SLASH PLATONIC (follow !!!)

My brain is so rude fr fr I was having a lovely tiem Well no i wa thinking about season 4 jon I was having a wretched time and my brain said "we can make em worse" [...] So the au would go like this: - canon compliant until post-ep 154 - jon think "well if i gouge my eyes out, then martin will know im serious about this" - eye gouging commences - oh lawd he dying (episode 181 fades in ig?) - either becomes one of those archivist things as the eye tries to stop him [or] dies - times get even worse

Messages to @/asideofsalt (@scarandjoelenthusiast). 22 September, 2022.

Also there were some other things said:

Jon said "is anyone going to be self destuctive" and didn't wait for an answer

He had No Friends, he believed he was a monster, he repeatedly said that he can't die because "they need me". No other reason provided. He... thinks he's responsible for everything that went wrong in the world and has to fix everything and is the only one [who] can. He thinks he's the most important worst person in the world. Which is uh.

ok so jon and martin's love language is martin makes tea for jon and jon comes back from his recent kidnapping and worries about martin's well being

Uhm, well, hope you enjoyed that little ramble, god im so abnormal about this podcast. I wish they'd be okay, but actually I don't because I... I'm listening because I wanted to listen to a horror podcast, that is why i am here. so, rip to them. part of me wants them to be okay, part of me is eating popcorn as they... you know, have this whole tragic thing going on :(

[the-casbah-way]

on all levels except physical i am a repressed and disgruntled middle aged british man and i cannot possibly impress on you enough the extent to which this is not a joke. i was born to do crosswords and be unironically interested in military history. i hate office small talk and loud strangers on public transportation and i will willingly put on the bbc news then have the audacity to complain about how stupid the headlines are. my knees crack every time i move. i can’t get hard. i have been known to let out a sensible chuckle or two when one of those terrible celebrity panel shows is on television and a comedian i don’t like says something that’s actually funny for once and then i get annoyed at myself because i’ve scorned my own rigid agenda and i cannot swallow my pride. i go to bed at 9pm. i still read the newspaper instead of just using my phone because i object to the rise of the machines. im scared of computers i don’t know what siri is. i will ask what film someone is watching and then say im not interested but still somehow end up hovering in the doorway with my arms crossed forgetting to pretend that i am not positively enthralled. i could go on

[egg-emperor]

,,,,,,,,,,i-i don't want to hide this on anon and you don't have to respond but I think I'd feel better if I get this off of my chest admiring your blog and interests of course, but moreso I think you're a wonderful person that I wish the best for. As a lost self-shipping aromantic in the world wondering I always come to your blog for comfort and a small chuckle of trivia every once and then but I do wish to confide in your inbox to let you know erm- awkwardly I might have an affectionate little crush on you--it's silly and dumb and I'm sorry I shouldn't write this in secrecy but I really just-- mean this with the best intentions merely confiding to Secretly whisper that someone out there somewhere geeks out alongside with you over nerdy fictional scientists scheming, aro-to-aro I simply aspire and admire your brute sensible truth and downright devilish infectious excitement and passion you have--

All I have really left to say is that I've been possibly following for longer then two years at this point ashvdshbshsbs -you may now do with this information as you will-

/)//////////(\

omg thank you much, that's really sweet ya got me blushing here 🥰 I'm really happy that you enjoy my blog and it's a very pleasant surprise that you also like my personality behind it! you seem like a wonderful person yourself and I wish the best for you too

not silly and dumb at all don't worry at all, I know what you mean with that affectionate crush feeling. I never expected anyone would feel that way towards me from this blog, I'm flattered and honored! I'm delighted to know I'm not alone in what I do, one of the only things better than geeking out over nerdy scheming fictional scientists is having someone to do it with hehe. very glad to have you here!

hell yeah aro-to-aro I appreciate it. I've never known anyone to have any type of crush when they only know me as my faceless self online. and this is one of the places I truly get to be myself so it makes me so happy to know my true personality and how I express myself can be likable in itself! those being my boldest traits has gotten me negative reactions from some on here, it brings me joy that it's positive for you

there's no way I'd be able to guess! XD wow I appreciate you for sticking around that long and I hope my blog can continue to be enjoyable for you! I appreciate your courage in letting me know, it made my day 💜💕

[tk-duveraun]

Lian and the Capitalist Fuckboy AU 4/?

1. 2. 3. 4 (here) 5.

She will have terrible scars for the rest of her life, but she will have a life to live. 

Once the white mages clear the grounds of the Feng’s Kugane house, the entire family descends on (ascends to?) it. Hancock is made to sit in the dining room and eat until Mingtao is satisfied he’s had enough.

Lian’s mother and twin brothers take her to bathe while her father and twin sisters strip the bed, remake it and thoroughly clean the room. Hancock isn’t really thinking clearly, mind mostly buzzing with the fact that Lian will recover and live and be okay. But even in his distracted state, he has a moment of disjointed confusion. Shouldn’t Lian’s sisters be the ones helping with the bath?

But then he remembers the twin boys are strong white and black mages respectively, which make them much better bath attendants for someone only half-conscious. They were also large enough to carry her and move her around without aggravating the lingering wounds and new scales. It was only his Uldan-Hyur sensibilities that found it strange.

As he mechanically chews a fresh meat bun, Hancock remembers Lian mentioning that gender wasn’t really a concept for her people. Some people were large, others were small and that didn’t particularly affect anything other than procreation and even then, she’d said, there were workarounds. 

Mingtao pushed another bowl of soup at Hancock.

He wasn’t too, too familiar with Lian’s sandi. Mingtao didn’t really care for business and his Hingan was about as broken as Hancock’s Shuiwen. So the two sat quietly in the dining room.

At a stunned kind of distance, Hancock watched the Feng servants bring in more tables and seats to fill the dining room. Despite knowing Lian’s family was large, he’d always taken the size of the manor to be a symbol of the family’s affluence more than a practical purchase. Hancock mentally tallied the rooms against the number of family members and found it a much tighter fit than he’d previously thought.

Hancock remained at the table even once the food was cleared by the servants. He took his cue from Mingtao to stay out of the way. His choice was solidified when Mingyun joined them with a pile of papers and Lian’s assistant.

Mingyun greeted his brother with a clap on the shoulder before sitting next to him. Across the table, he shot Hancock a long-suffering grimace, though his posture was still loose with relief.

“Work’s built up,” Mingyun said in Hingan. “Sakurai-san’s a great asset, of course, but too much of our work requires direct family approval.”

Sakurai Mikana, sat on Mingyun’s side, nodded. “There was only so much I could do communicating everything via linkpearl.”

“The benefit of being, myself, a proxy,” Hancock said.

Mingyun didn’t look up from his papers, “Well, if Nanarito doesn’t appreciate you enough, we’ll take care of that.”

Mingtao asked something in Shuiwen and they had a short back and forth before Mingyun snorted and looked up at Hancock just to roll his eyes.

“A-Tao thinks I’m getting ahead of things, but he hasn’t been subjected to the matchmakers yet.”

Mikana made a comment in Shuiwen that had Mingyun chuckle and pat his brother’s thigh. “See? I know what I’m talking about.”

Mingtao made a sour face, and got up, saying something dismissive with the word kitchen in it.

Before Hancock could parse all of that, Lian’s mother entered the dining room and gestured for Hancock and her son to follow her.

She took them to a different room than Lian had been using before. The bed was visibly larger and made Lian look tiny and fragile. She was wrapped in an orange, silk, sleeping robe to protect the fragile, new scales. The still-healing wounds on Lian’s face were free of bandages, but covered in a green paste. The largest splotch was on her left cheek, which, at least, no longer showed signs of infection.

Lian was asleep, but her skin, though still pale from long illness, had a flush of life that had Hancock’s heart in his throat.

Hancock was ushered into the seat at the head of the bed by Lian’s mother. He wasn’t ignorant of the blessing that was and gave her the most polite thanks he knew in Shuiwen.

“Enough of that,” she replied in Hingan. She had an accent, but was clearly very practiced in the language. She sat on the opposite side of the bed and ran her hand over the crown of Lian’s head. Lian’s hair had been dried and braided after the bath. “That’s your place. We’ve known that for a long time.”

“We’ve known way more than that for a long time,” Minghong chimed in. He was leaned against the wall at the foot of Lian’s bed. Both he and his twin held complimentary staves.

“Be nice,” one of Lian’s twin sisters said. “You don’t want to scare off dage now.”

“If her smothering hasn’t done it by now, nothing will,” Minghong said.

“See? I told you a-Tao was in denial,” Mingyun said.

Hancock smiled helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Oh. He doesn’t know,” the second of Lian’s sisters said.

“Sh, sh, no one tell him,” the first sister said.

“You were just telling me not to bully him!” Minghong shot back.

Lian’s parents burst into laughter. Mingyu followed, then the rest of the siblings. It was probably the first time they’d laughed in days. The catharsis of relieved tension hit Hancock like a physical force and he found himself joining in even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

...because it certainly couldn’t be that...