#and now i witnessed you at your absolute lowest point

[nezoriy]

what’s the etiquette of staying overnight at a place of a dude with whom you hung out a couple of times in the company, and for whom you 2 hours ago called a psychiatric ambulance, bc his wife asked your partner (who’s also the dude’s ex) to check up on him bc he’s really in crisis while she’s out of town, but your partner is almost out of town as well with his awful mom who came to visit and already made a scandal that he’s not spending time with her, so he ends up asking you, and the other person who was here has a morning shift and had to leave, so here you are keeping the dude company to ensure he’s okay 💀

[mandy-asimp]

Needed me

Emily Prentiss x fashion designer!reader (they/them)

Warnings: angst, fluff, happy ending

A/n: they dragging babygirl through hell this season 😔

"I'm sorry, but she is not my responsibility anymore. I can't be there to tell her it's going to be ok when she couldn't do that for me." They grumbled as they sat across from Rossi.

He sighed, "she's dealing with a lot."

"And I wasn't?" They didn't let him get further. "I get that you all are going to support her, she's your teammate. But you all didn't know her as your fiancé. The absolute love of your life who for the love of fucks, left you at your lowest."

The old man wasn't going to give up. He believed that there was still apart of them that would cave. "Y/n, you know I wouldn't have flown out here if I didn't think it was serious. She needs you."

It was them who sighed now. Standing up from the table. Leaning across to kiss the old man's cheek. "I'm sorry Dave. Unless she is at the point of tears and just giving up, I will not be roped back into it. Not again. I deserve better. I'll see you around."

And they were off. They never looked back to that table, knowing they were too close to facing...but they couldn't help but wonder what was so bad. Then there was what she did, how it flashed so quickly.

She came home that day to find her fiancé in tears. Body racking with sobs. "Babe? Baby what's wrong?" She was quick to drop her stuff and come crouch in front of her.

"Everything I've worked for it's gone." They got out between wiping away tears that seemed to never end.

Emily frowned, "what? Y/n, what happened?" She was trying to think of anything this bad. Had they been told bad news? Something someone said?

They picked up their phone and with shaky hands pulled up the news, a video of a burnt down building. "The studio...everything in it. All of it...this sets everything back..." they calmed their sobs to hiccups and a few more tears. "I'm absolutely ruined. This was supposed to be it. This was the break I was gonna get and then actually get to enter the real fashion world. I was going to go somewhere and I was going to make it," they spewed out so many worries. Mentions of how much time they'll need to restart, how this was the such an important thing.

Emily though, she froze up. There was so much happening she didn't know what to do. She's never witness them spiral out before. Within the four years, they knew how to keep themselves calm. Even if they couldn't, it's never been this intense. It scared her.

She knew it was a reasonable response to what had happened. Their entire future just went up into a crisp. Everything in her wanted to try and comfort them, truly she wanted to figure it out together.

Yet, the few bricks of the wall she'd built had more impact. She fell back behind it and regretted her next choice before it even happened. After that, Emily swore she blacked out because when she realized what happened, she was in a hotel room alone.

Y/n was just as shocked. The woman they were about to confess their undying love to just walked out. Not a single word said, but just gone. Even when they tried to ask questions, she gave them nothing.

For an entire week, Emily didn't try to reach out or fix anything. Instead she read every text that came through. Even the one that said all her shit would be on the curb for her. The one that set in what she did was calling off the wedding.

That was only a few years ago. The two had completely moved on, or at least Y/n tried to. Never wanting to look back on how much pain was caused, but apart of them wouldn't let themselves fall in love again.

But here they were. Sitting in the apartment, trying to sketch their next line, and only being able to think of Emily. Rossi came and he wouldn't have if it was serious. If they were to go to her, it would be unwrapping the bandages on a wound that hasn't been fully healed.

"No. You are stronger than this." They whispered to themselves. Staring at the sketchbook once again.

If they did...there would be a chance for closure. It would be nice to know why she ran. Why she couldn't just stick it out. They would've been the most badass couple. The FBI unit chief and a famous designer.

If they did...they would get the chance to finally express their anger. But it wouldn't be the right time if she's suffering. How is she suffering? What is going through her mind?

"Fuck." They shouted before getting up. Heading into their room to start packing a suitcase. Dialing Dave at the same time.

"Rossi"

"When are you flying back to Virginia?"

"I'll have the car there in ten. Thank you Y/n."

The call ended quickly, and Y/n was left to grumble. "Oh thank you Y/n! Thank you for having to be the damn adult once again. Thank you for willingly putting yourself through hell for her!" They had a nasty taste on their tongue as they spoke. It's honestly what silenced them.

Throwing a few outfits into a suitcase with the basic needs, they zipped it and began to pack a second bag. Grabbing everything needed to continue working on their summer line. This was done more carefully, with more precision on where everything went in.

Their eyes scanned over the packed bag, making sure everything was in there right. Right before Dave texted the car was out front.

One more sigh was let out before the apartment was locked up. The start of what might be either the biggest, or best choice made.

~

Emily was in her office. She was lost. She was loosing her mind over this case. Her wack-ass neighbor had hit a nerve she would've never expected.

It was just a mess now. Whoever was behind all this was winning and she couldn't figure it out. She was just fucked.

"Hey...how bad?" Rossi had popped into the room. Watching as the woman pulled out a box of cigarettes and lit one. "That bad?"

"Restricted duty until they see fit, so the BAU is yours." She tried to act calm, trying to keep it together infront of him.

Rossi huffed, "I don't want it. I'm not fit for it."

Emily pinched her nose. "None of us are! Hell! Me most of all. I need you to step up here Dave." She just needed him to make this easier.

"There has to be something?"

"This is happening." She shook her head and turned her back, her purse being a lame excuse for a distraction . The walls couldn't stay up as she felt herself begin to crumble.

A soft hand on her back made her gasp. She expected to turn and see Rossi, someone who she could only go so far with. Yet, her eyes were met with Y/n. She couldn't help it. Her legs gave out as she just sobbed into their chest on the floor.

It killed Y/n to see her like this. Emily was known for her tough demeanor and being able to keep it together at work. But that's what the team knew. Y/n knew her as their fiancé. They saw her breakdown at least once a month from the case build ups.

This however, Y/n could tell this was months on months of a build up. This was a low point, one that they would be there for.

It was half an hour before Emily could get out anything. Her brown eyes, wide and glassy, looked up to them. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was weak and defeated.

"I was told you needed me." Was all Y/n answered with. Naturally, their thumb wiped away the tears. "Why don't you sit on the couch and I'll make you some tea, hmm? Then you can tell me what's got you so...low."

The older got up and moved towards the couch. Y/n leaving the room to make the drink, remembering how Emily liked it like it was their own preferred. Within five minutes they were back and handing over the tea.

They stood, leaning against the desk. "Was it Brian again?"

"How did you...?" The question trailed off as Emily took her first sip. Trying to not let the warm feeling rush through her. They remembered her tea flawlessly.

Y/n glanced out the window, "I saw him lingering on the way in." Emily laughed a little at that. "But really....are you ok?"

"I've failed as a team leader. This job has corrupted me into breaking laws and lying to my team. I'm chasing with nothing but a conspiracy theory. I sounded crazy to the biggest conspiracy theorist in Virginia. I've been benched because of him. I just...I don't know what to do anymore." She so easily confessed. Her head falling into her hands for what felt like the millionth time today. "This can't be how I go out."

Internally, Y/n battled with going over there and holding her or keeping this distance. It put them back once again. They wouldn't be able to live with themselves if they did what she did, it just wouldn't make anything right. So they went over and held her again. This time placing an understanding kiss to her temple.

"It's not. I mean, it will be if you let it. And trust me when I tell you, you're going to want to let it. But that's not Emily Prentiss. She has been through so much worse than some theorist. This will be a fresh start. A chance to start anew. You will take it, and you will figure out this case. You will get your guy or whatever you call it, unsub? This is not your lowest. It's gonna feel like it, but it's just a low before the high. It's all going to be ok." They spoke from their heart. Even as it ached to be back in this position. Even as tears fell from their own eyes.

They were sharing her pain without wanting to, but needing to. Needing to let her know this wasn't it. Needing to let her know that someone was her to share her burdens again.

For the first time, both felt connected entirely. Beating with one heart. Thinking with one mind. Feeling with one body.

That night they had fallen asleep on the couch in her office. Holding onto one another like it would all go away as long as they were together.

Y/n had woken randomly, searching for any source of time. Rubbing their eyes as it was two in the morning. Emily didn't have to be back her till at least eight. They let their eyes fall to Emily. How she seemed so peaceful lying on top of them. She needed this more than Y/n had thought.

So, without much debate, Y/n was carrying the sleeping beauty and her bags out. Doing everything to prevent her from waking, which wasn't hard as she was out cold.

They drove in silence back to where they were staying. Knowing that if it came to it, they could drive to get her an outfit. The silence gave them time to really think. What were they doing? This is the exact opposite of what they were expecting.

Was Emily going to easily fit her way right back? It wouldn't be fair. She caused them the pain and yet they still love her. They would, without a doubt, let her as well. All she had to do was ask. It was just unfair, and they were going to live with it.

~

Emily stirred in the nice duvet. Confused as it wasn't hers and far too nice to be a hotel. She knew this duvet. She slept in it many times before.

"The coffee is being made. And breakfast is on the way." That voice she missed hearing in the morning.

She hummed while stretching, "how long have you been up?" She finally opened her eyes and seeing Y/n in sweats and a baby tee. Their casual lounge wear.

"Since maybe five. These sketches don't finish themselves unfortunately." They sat down at the desk that was perfectly illuminated by the sun at anytime of the day. "Oh, also your team is coming here tonight. You're taking the day according to Dave. He said it's his order and you should follow it."

"Why are they coming here?" She swung her feet out the bed. Her head turning to take in the room. "You kept your apartment here? What about living in New York?"

"My home in New York makes this look like a doll house. Smallest is the home in California. I move with the seasons." They simply explained. Frowning when Emily laughed.

"You're such a snob. Three houses? Really?" She got up and came to look at the sketches. Not saying anything as Y/n just began sketching again.

She couldn't help but stare at them. They made that concentration face still. Where the creativity would float in their eyes as the rest of their face was resting.

Y/n could feel her eyes on them. It wasn't anything out of their routine. Oh how they fell so easily into the routines.

"I'm a big fashion designer. I'm constantly doing something somewhere else. It's like you, Ms. FBI. Always away doing something," they hummed. Never once did they look up to her, they seemed to be battling the inevitable.

Emily didn't say anything, she just took in the sketches one more time and was off to the bathroom.

Both in their own thoughts and silence. Neither one knowing how to approach the situation of each other. Emily not knowing how to go about work. Y/n not knowing how to go about the designs. There were many thoughts floating in the air.

They let the silence stay around as they waited for breakfast to show up. Emily still clueless on why the team was coming. And she could've asked, but the thrill of a surprise put together by Y/n seemed to make her against it.

Y/n had been trying to sketch within the silence, but knowing Emily was only a few feet away made it hard.

"Babe! I'm home!" She called into the apartment. Noting how quiet it was. "Y/n? Are you even here?" A text saying 'study' came through, leading her through the quiet home.

When she pushed open the door, she found several mannequins with different outfits all lined up. "Isn't it beautiful?" Y/n hummed from the table of gems. They seemed to have been hand sewing each one on.

"Stunning. You didn't have all this done before I left?" Emily came to get a closer look. Being able to see the glimmer of proudness in Y/n's eyes. "What's it inspired by?"

Y/n didn't answer, instead just took int their work. Each outfit was inspired by their favorite memory with Emily. Between outfits they wore that night, or how they felt in the moment. The line was a collection of their love.

"Alrighty, leave me in the dark till it's released. Are you hungry? I imagine you've been to busy working to eat?" Emily left, getting comfortable.

Y/n looked over the sketches one more time. Sighing and dropping their head with a loud bump. They hadn't struggled this hard with sketches since when the two had first split.

They pushed up from their spot and headed into the kitchen. Rubbing their eyes to try and see anything clearly. They lost focus as they stared at the working coffee pot. This trip was already off on a different path than they wanted.

"If you want...I can leave." Emily's voice broke into the silent kitchen. Her head hung low and her hands picking at each other. She looked out the window briefly, bracing herself to meet the others stare.

Only, it wasn't on her. Instead Y/n moved around to get coffee, their back to the woman. "If you want to, I can drive you. But by no means are you gonna get kicked out." Two mugs got pulled down. They were matching ones Emily had gotten for them once upon a time ago.

They frowned to the memories of both mugs. There was a moment with a sigh. They forgot how much they avoided coming here and how they left everything almost the same.

The coffee was poured and the mug was handed over. Now they met each other's eyes. Emily wearing a frown as Y/n tried to keep their shit together.

"Unfortunately for me and fortunately for you, I couldn't kick you out even if you stabbed me. But I wouldn't try, we both have too much to loose for that." Y/n kept their distance still. Eyes either on Emily or anywhere else in the house. It was getting quiet again and it wasn't enjoyable. They rubbed their eyes again, "I need to get back to work. Feel free to make yourself comfortable but not too loud."

They were off and back in their study before Emily could even get anything out. "What about breakfast?" She called out and after, following herself.

Y/n flipped over their phone, "it's about ten minutes away." Their voice was cold and stale. Short of the comforting Emily had heard last night.

It confused her. "You are so confusing." She mumbled. Her head shaking just a bit at the cold demeanor.

"Funny coming from you." Y/n shot back almost instantly. A nasty taste washing over their tongue again. They sucked their tooth before turning around. Eyes immediately locking Emily in. "If this is confusing for you, let me tell you what's confusing for me. The fact that when my entire future burnt into literal crisps, the only thing you, my fiancé at the time, quite literally walked out and said nothing. For a week you then ghost me, mind you I was the one you were marrying in less than a month, and then after years of not looking back, David Rossi shows up. You know what THE David Rossi asked me? To come help you. And here I am, trying my absolute best to keep my shit together so you don't have to worry about another thing. Because you know what Emily? I care for you enough to be there for you." They spewed everything out, hands being thrown around in dramatics as their chest heaved.

Emily was too stunned to speak. What was she to say? Y/n was right. She left when they needed her the most and left without a word. And yet, here they were giving her nothing but what they always have, love.

"I'm sorry," was all that she could manage.

They only scoffed, "whatever. Breakfast is almost here." Y/n shook their head and sat back down at the desk. "You can put my food in the fridge."

"Y/n..." Emily sounded broken, even more than last night. It killed Y/n, but they deserved their reason, and she knew that.

Cautiously, she moved in closer. Coming to Y/n's left and sitting down on the floor. Her knees bent just enough to rest her arms on.

"I panicked...I had never seen you break down like that before..I didn't know how to respond and I just fell behind a wall and did what I always did..I ran from it instead of facing it. And it wasn't fair to you. I truly have no excuse for what I did, except I was a coward." She spoke quietly into the air. Feeling tears prick her eyes as the feeling of guilt and embarrassment kicked her hard. "I only can say sorry, and I say it knowing it will never be enough to make up for all of the pain I may have caused you."

Both had taken the next moment to sit in silence and process everything. Y/n had tears falling from the moment Emily had sat down next to them. Emily had let her tears fall once she finished.

A few beats had passed and Y/n had let their hand fall to Emily's head. Sliding to her cheek as she looked up. "You Emily Prentiss, have caused more pain than I can bring up again. And I hope you have learned from it. I hope you didn't do it to anyone else and you won't do it to anyone else." They had this frown she had never seen, one she knew she had caused.

"I'm so sorry Y/n.." she quietly cried leaning into the touch. Feeling the warmth of the designers hands. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," they hummed as tears fell down their rosy cheeks. "I know you are."

~

Hours had gone by. Filled with nothing but tears and sniffles. Emily had moved from the floor when she began sobbing, into Y/n's lap. Her face buried into their neck as they shushed her to asleep.

Y/n had tucked her back into bed and continued to work on the designs. Pulling out the old sketches from their scrapped line. Staring over each outfit that was designed after their love.

The mannequins were in the studio, locked in a specific room. They questioned if now was the right time to bring them all back out. If it was, they knew it was ready to be launched, giving them more time on the line that sat unfinished.

They picked up their phone, "Jackie? I need you and Joana to bring me Project L.E.P. The key is in my desk, bottom left drawer, hidden under her picture, tied with a red ribbon. It's hard to miss, the ribbon has L.E.P in gold on the end."

"Are we launching it?!" The assistant grew overly excited. "Oh! Y/n you have no idea how wonderful this is!"

"Is that Y/n?" The other assistant, Joana came into the room.

Y/n assumed Jackie nodded, "yes! They want us to bring L.E.P to their home."

"They're launching it? But then that would mean Em- Oh my God!" The phone was snatched and it was Joana now. "Did you guys talk?! I want to know everything! How did you lay it down?!"

"Joana." Y/n simply cut the assistant from bombarding with questions. "When I see you, I will answer your questions. I need that line, bring the truck with them all. We're going to review them."

"Yes boss!" They both said before hanging up. Y/n knew they were geeking out in the studio at this point.

They assumed it would be at least half an hour before the two got there. Giving enough time to finally take a well needed break and eat something.

While they warmed up the breakfast, Emily had stirred awake. She laid in the bed, taking in the familiar smell of Y/n's shampoo on the pillows. She began to think over everything they had said.

They said it was unfortunate that they couldn't kick her out even if they wanted to. What did that truly mean?

Emily realized, they've already gone through the hardest conversation, this one would be nothing. She swung the covers over and began to look for Y/n. Checking the study first.

Her curiosity for the better of her. She came close to the desk, looking over the designs. There were a few that had yet to be finished, and then there was one in red that really caught her eye. She picked it up, scanning over the paper and realizing she's seen it before. On the bottom had L.E.P written in gold. Emily couldn't place where she's seen it, but she knew for a fact she had.

Placing it down, she left to the kitchen next. Finding Y/n dancing slightly to their own tune. She watched as they prepared their food before acknowledging her entrance.

"Would you like yours as well? I can heat it up?" They offered without even looking over before grabbing the second meal. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good...I do have a question though," she came in closer. Leaning against the counter while staying out the way. Y/n looked over, showing she had their attention. "When you said..."

"I meant it." They knew her thoughts better than anyone. Emily swore in another life they were either a profiler, or a mind reader. "If you want to stay, I'm not going to stop you. If you want to leave, I will drive you. I'm here because you needed me, and I think....apart of me still needed you. If I wanted to be over you, I would've been. I know I would've been. I would've cleaned out everything that ties to you, but I didn't."

"When we ended...I thought that everything was going to go to shit. My career was caught in a fire, my relationship was ending, and I began to spiral. I began to just accept that this was how I was going out. Would never be a big fashion designer, never have a love life, nothing to live for....but I thought of it as letting you win without a fight. And that wasn't how I wanted you to win."

"I don't deserve you," she had whispered. Her head tilting and her silver waves fell to the side.

It was the first time Y/n had actually taken her in entirely. How she aged and yet was still the most beautiful woman they had ever come across. It made them want to just kiss her and tell her that she was welcomed home always.

"And yet...you have me." They sighed, hand coming to cup her cheek. "And maybe thats why I've been so confusing. Because I'm supposed to be mad at you, I really really want to..but anytime I try to, this nasty taste fills my mouth. Like I don't mean anything bad I try and say. And I don't."

"Y/n..." she furrowed her brows. This was more confessing than she had expected. "You don't have to tell me anything-"

"Damn it Emily," they groaned. "I'm not telling you this because I think you need it, I'm telling yo this because I need it. I'm being selfish. I'm loosing my shit with you just standing here. Do you know how easy it is for you to walk right back into my life? When I said I was going to love you forever, I meant it. I meant it with everything then. And I'm going to mean it with everything now." They had their own tears now. Finally caving into the painful feeling of being in love.

Emily was stunned, but she wasn't going to miss her second chance. She pulled Y/n in by the pockets of their sweats, standing on her tip-toes to meet their lips in a passionate kiss.

They both felt airy as they got lost in the feeling of home. Holding each other so impossibly close that it was undeniable they were staying together.

Once they pulled apart they just stared at the other. Both trying to find some answer to what they were feeling. Was there anything to say now?

Y/n came out the trance first, a smile gracing their lips. "Why don't we eat? Jackie and Joana are gonna be here soon and will probably want to question us."

"What are they bringing you?" She held Y/n there for a little longer. Enjoying the closeness and safeness. "Fabrics?"

"Project L.E.P." Was all they answered before heating up the other box of food. "I think I'll release it before the one I'm working on now."

Emily watched them move, "what does the L.E.P mean?"

Y/n was quick to shrug. "It's just the name that Jackie and Joana gave it." They dismissed the topic. Eyes trained to the microwave as it counted down the minute. But the small smirk they held told her they knew exactly what it meant. "I got you your usual."

They handed over the box and the two prepped before heading to the couch. Sitting knee to knee as they ate and watched whatever was on.

It was an enjoyable moment, and one Y/n would remember. And that's when the next line came to them. They tried to be subtle to finish up their food before rushing into the study. They grabbed a sticky note, it was red, and they scribbled on it before slapping it against the window.

Soon designs started to be taped up to the windows. The evening sun peaking through the papers. The ideas began to flow and make sense again. They felt relieved at the feeling.

The front door had opened, and the two assistance were quickly to make their presences known.

"Oh my! Y/n! You dog!" Jackie's voice filled the entire apartment at the sight of Emily. Her head snapped to Joana. "This is so not real!"

Y/n forgot how young her assistance were compared to them. They walked out shaking their head. "How many mannequins did you bring?"

"We figured you still had six here, we actually know you do because you never returned them. So we brought the other six. Then each piece is stored in its own bag and box." They stood tall and in line. "We just need to grab everything."

"Well let's get to it. Six mannequins and twelve boxes are not getting up here that easily. Em, you'll stay up here and make the trips from the elevator back. Joana you'll be on elevator duty. Jackie you're unloading and I'll carry everything to the elevator."

It was the perfect team work. And within no time they had everything upstairs and the three were working on setting them up facing the window. Emily, having no hand in sewing or fashion just watched the three move in harmony.

Joana and Jackie worked to just get the outfits on the mannequins as Y/n did touch ups. They worked until the night fell. And it was perfect.

"Y/n you've outdone yourself still. Are we really ready to release project L.E.P?" Joana walked around the designs and took in every seeming detail. "Truly a genius."

Y/n had a glimmer of pride in their eyes. "Yeah. I think it's time." They only broke away to look at Emily who sat on the couch. "What do you think?"

She had dropped her gaze to look at the twelve outfits. "They're absolutely beautiful. They have been since when you first had them all laid out." She stood to come next to them. "Are you ready to release them?"

Y/n inhaled with a smile, exhaling their worries. "Yeah." They grabbed Emily's hand. "I am ready." They were confident.

"So...what are you gonna call it?" Emily went closer to examine the detail as well. The room was silent as everyone thought of something.

Jackie hummed, "mmm what if we keep L.E.P?" She threw out. "It holds meaning, it's cute, it's secretive, secretive is sexy."

"L.E.P in gold writing, your writing. We tease it with close up pictures first. Then we host a big launch party and have them all come out on a runway." Joana began to plan everything out. Already seeing a vision.

"But what is L.E.P?" Emily butted in. Getting silence and all eyes on Y/n, who was looking down to Emily.

"Loving Emily Prentiss," they only could smile even kinder at the reveal. "It'll be the start of a collection. The E.P collection. It's bright, it's new, it's warm and giving. That's how it'll start."

The doorbell had rang. "That must be your team. You two are dismissed. Thank you for the help today. Start your magic and fill me in in the morning. Love you both," they bowed their head. Watching as the two assistants began to pack up.

"Um, Y/n? I have nothing to wear?" Emily glanced down at the big t-shirt and sleep shorts.

"Your outfit was laid out on the bed before we even started touch ups. You go change and I'll greet everyone." Y/n shooed as they moved to the door. Opening and being greeted first with Dave.

"How is she?" He placed a kiss to their cheek before leading everyone in. They all seemed worried at first.

"She's better today. And that's what matters." They hummed. Moving towards the kitchen to begin cooking for everyone.

Stopping at the instant gasp and whispers. The team had seen the designs lined up. "Wait..your the Y/n? Like designer Y/n?" Penelope stared in awe at the outfits.

"Guilty. That's the next line. I guess a sneak peak." They shrugged, smiling as Dave began to prep to help cook. "You can get close, everything is set in stone at this point."

Just then Emily had walked out in a one-of-one dress. Y/n had designed it and worked the first night to make it for her. Telling themselves that it was either a goodbye gift or a welcome home gift.

She looked stunning, and Y/n could take their eyes off of her. Their best model walked into and began to get wine glasses down.

"Emily, you never mentioned Y/n was a fashion designer?!" Penelope was still caught on the fact. Earning a laugh from Y/n.

"Ouch, four years and almost married and you didn't tell them about my job?" They came near Emily, crouching next to her to get out some seasonings.

Emily looked down to them, taking in the moment of being taller for once. "She would've flipped out. I also figured she would've down a background check on you without my knowing." Both glancing to the bubbly woman.

"I...I didn't because I wanted to respect her boundaries." She got out, looking to everyone else who seemed to have knowing looks. "Don't tell me..."

"We all...kinda knew." Tara broke the news, hugging the friend as the look of betrayal washed over her.

Y/n had shrugged from their spot. "I had no part in this." They cleared their name.

~

That night the team had laughed, eaten, drank a few bottles of wines, and enjoyed a nice round of desserts.

A few months has passed and Emily and Y/n began to work things out. She appreciated Y/n's efforts as well even with all the press and media.

There had been an article that really stood out.

And why did you name it L.E.P?

Well....when I had made it I was with this amazing woman. Each piece was meant to represent a moment of our relationship.

And why are you just now releasing it?

We had honestly gotten into a fight a month or so before our wedding. We ended up splitting and I just couldn't come to scrap it. So I locked it into a room until now.

And what made you choose now?

Because she needed me and I realized I would always need her. And this is my gift to her. A token of my love with what I was meant to be doing. Fashion. And what better way than to express love through fashion?

Emily had came over and smothered Y/n with all the love she could after reading that. It made her look at the entire line differently and hold it near to her heart just as well.

They laid next to each other in bed, just staring and having a wordless conversation. But Emily could see it written on Y/n's face. They loved her. And that made her see everything worth fighting for.

"I love you." She had whispered before realizing.

Y/n smiled. "I know." They switched to a cocky smile. Pulling her closer by the waist and bending her just slightly back. "And I love you too. Always will."

They shared one of their most passionate kisses that night. It sparked a new sense of love. Mature, mannered, and workable. As long as they had each other, it would always be workable.

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 8

WE ARE FUCKING BACK! (I immediately started hacking my lungs after typing this, I'm sick :P)

To make a long story short, for the past few months I've either been really busy, really depressed, and usually both. Also for some reason chapter 8 was already hard to write and I don't know why.

ALSO before we get into the fic, @your-local-furby drew some absolutely lovely fanart of MC apologizing and seeing the library from the previous two chapters. I think it finally kicked my brain back into gear lmao.

Without further ado, please enjoy!

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

It feels like the ground beneath me is sucking me in.

I feel myself sinking,

I wish the ground would swallow me whole.

Embarrassment washes over me and swallows me whole. I feel the air leave my chest I want to break free but I feel like I’m drowning. 

You take the page you’re scribbling your notes on and crumple it into a ball. You’ve reread your rough draft and decided the arranged wedding scene you had planned wasn’t tragic enough. The blind musician is tasked with performing for the prince’s wedding, but his heartbreak causes him to mess up his performance, which causes everyone to notice he’s crying, including the prince. You’re trying to convey the feeling of knowing every single person in the room is watching you during the lowest point in your life, but it’s just not coming together in a way you like. You’ll run it by Alik later.

Technically, Alik is no longer your editor as a result of your deal with the Yae Publishing House. Still, they’re one of your few friends, and their workload has lightened since your previous publisher terminated all of those other book deals. Now they’re acting as your beta reader before you send off the next draft to the editor at the Yae Publishing House. It’s actually making progress go a lot faster, so much so you might only need one final draft of the whole story before it’s finally published, as opposed to multiple drafts. 

I do not need sight to know everyone in the room is looking at me. I feel it in my broken notes that trail into nothingness. I feel it in the resulting silence. I feel it in the quiet murmur spreading through the room.

I feel tears in my eyes as I drop my head down, praying no one sees me crying. If I could, I would sprint out of the room, out of the palace, so no one is witness to my heartbroken embarrassment. I’d run so fast, the prince would have no time to chase after me. It would be for the best anyways. He deserves his perfect and beautiful bride, and I am no bride, I cannot verify if I am beautiful, and in this moment, I could not feel anymore flawed as a person and human. 

A knock on your door breaks your concentration. You’re dreading whatever is on the other side, but know it’s better to get this over with. 

“Yes?”

The door opens, and your mother pokes her head in through the gap. She offers a smile. “We have company. Come say hi, please.”

“I’m… kind of in the middle of something,” you reply, “and I’ve told you that I’m going to see Alik when I’m done writing.”

“How is she, by the way?”

“They’re fine.”

“And Maria? How’s she?”

“She’s alright, I think. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Well, tell them both I say hello. Anyways, if you have a minute, I would like you to come downstairs. There’s someone I’d like you to talk to.”

It takes you a moment to recognize what this is, mostly because it’s been a while since she tried pulling this off. When you realize what’s happening, you just shake your head and look at your mother. “Which family friend is this?”

She gives you a very unconvincing look of confusion. “My dear, what do you mean?”

“Mother, please.”

“... Ana. Anastasia.”

Anastasia is your younger sister Adéla’s friend. Much like your sister, she’s only a year younger than you, but unlike your sister, she actually likes you. Adéla and you have butted heads throughout your lives, as siblings tend to do and especially with such a small age gap, but Adéla has taken it a step further saying that it’s your fault her childhood was so “miserable” as she puts it. She claims that your diagnosis made you the centre of your parents’ attention until your youngest sister was born, and then they focused more on her than Adéla. Conveniently, she’s never had any sisterly drama with her, only you. You feel for her, but there was only so much you could do at the time, seeing as you were eight years old.

“Absolutely not,” you tell your mother.

“But you two got along so well when she would visit,” your mother insists, “and she’s become a fine young lady since the two of you last spoke! Don’t you remember reading together when you two were little?”

“I’m sure she’s beautiful,” you say, “but Adéla will throw a fit if she finds out you set me up with one of her friends.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And I don’t want to find out,” you tell her, “and I told you I don’t like being set up on dates.”

Your mother lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I want to make sure my son is happy, healthy, and I want him to find someone he can settle down with. Your brother was already married at your age, and Adéla’s going to be having another baby soon.”

“Yes, but I’m not Pavel or Adéla,” you say, “the dating scene is different for me, and playing matchmaker isn’t going to make me feel any better or help me.”

Your mother just looks at you. That sad, pitiful look you know all too well. It stopped pulling on your heartstrings long ago, but sometimes it’s just easier to indulge her than it is to fight her on it. Besides, she means well, you think, it just can’t be helped that she doesn’t know her son has no interest in women.

You sigh, and stand up, much to your mother’s delight. “I’ll say hi, and that’s it.”

She grins, and she motions for you to follow her.

----

“... and she just happens to be single, too.”

Alik sets their glass down. “Interesting. So when’s the wedding?”

“It’s not happening,” you reply, “thank the Tsaritsa for that.”

“I’m honestly surprised your parents haven’t put you in an arranged marriage yet,” Alik comments.

“How many viable marriage candidates do you think there are that would be thrilled to marry someone who’s not only going blind, but could pass it on to their children as well?”

“Depends on how much the family is getting paid.”

“And it would not be much.”

The tavern is surprisingly quiet tonight. You chalk it up to it being the middle of the work week, not as many patrons willing to get drunk if they have work early in the morning. Currently, you and Alik are sitting at a table in the corner of the room while a few older patrons mill about, chattering on about their own lives at the bar. It’s actually rather nice, you think.

“What would they try to sell your bride to be on?” Alik asks.

“Um…” You look into your half drunk glass, trying to think of something funny. You clear your throat, straighten your posture, and put on your best business smile. “Here’s a fine young man who has no real work skills, and it’s not like they would do him any good since he’s considered legally blind and has between thirteen and fifteen years before he is fully blind. His only profitable skill is writing, though he doesn’t make enough to support a household. His blindness is also genetic!”

“By the Archons, at least say one nice thing about yourself,” Alik teases, though there’s a subtle sincerity to their words.

“I think I’m decent,” you say, “I think I might even make an okay husband, but I don’t think I’d be the kind of husband Pavel or my father are.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Alik replies, “there are plenty of families and couples where the husband isn’t always a provider. Besides, you’re not really a ladies man to begin with.”

You shake your head. “It’s not even that, it’s just… you know I try not to make a big deal of me going blind, but it’d be naïve of me to pretend that it’s not, and especially if I was in a relationship. Whether I like it or not, whoever I marry is going to inevitably become my caretaker. There will come a day where I’m going to need help, and I’ll rarely be able to return that favour.”

“That’s why it’s in sickness and in health,” Alik comments. They reach across the table and take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a good house husband, before and after you start seeing the world how Maria does.”

Maria is Alik’s cousin, and one of your few very close friends. She has been a big help to you in writing your book as her blindness is similar to the main character’s. While he was born blind, she actually had vision when she was born. Unfortunately, she suffered a very severe head injury when she was very young. She has little to no memory of her life before she lost her sight as a result, as well as having some developmental problems growing up. These days she’s doing much better, though her eyesight is still gone. At most, she can detect if there’s light, but that’s the extent of it. 

“Do you have permission to make jokes about her being blind?” you ask.

“I not only have permission, but that’s not even the worst joke I’ve gotten away with.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“For the best.”

Your table goes quiet as you and Alik take a moment to drink. You try not to cringe at the taste of whatever the hell Alik recommended you try. It’s a beer, and you can taste that, but it’s a lot more bitter than you like. Still, they bought it for you, it would be rude to spit it out.

“You don’t have to drink that, you know.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I’ll get used to it.”

You see a smile twitch onto Alik’s lips, and even if they try to hide it, you can see a shit eating grin from miles away. 

“Okay,” you say, “out with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You thought of something terrible, I want to hear it.”

Alik glances around the room, assessing how audible their comment would be. You take a sip of your drink, and they grin.

They lean in. “I’m sure Pantalone would be happy to hear that.”

You immediately sputter, spraying Alik in the face. They yell, swiping at their face as if they were sprayed with acid. You cough as what was left in your mouth goes down the wrong pipe. “Fuck, w-why’d I take a drink–”

“Did you have to spit that in my face?” Alik asks.

“Shut up,” you wheeze out. You give one more hearty cough, your throat and chest burning, and you can breathe again. You sit up, rubbing your chest through your shirt while Alik wipes their face and the table with napkins. You look around, and see the few patrons staring at your table. You painfully chuckle, and turn back to your friend. “S-Sorry, I should know better by now.”

Alik shrugs. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“I told you that in confidence,” you whisper.

“You actually told me before the tea party,” Alik tells you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s starting to show in your book.”

You feel your face flush, and you narrow your eyes. “I think I would know if I was writing about him, thank you.”

“The prince was a lot more arrogant in your first drafts,” Alik explains, “but in more recent iterations, it’s been toned down a lot. He’s also a lot more understanding of the musician’s blindness.”

You’re confused. “Well, yes. My first drafts are years old, so I’ve had to make some adjustments to better fit my writing style now. Besides, I’ve read too many stories about asshole love interests that don’t really learn anything, they just get tragic backstories that authors think justify their shitty behaviour. I’m not adding my characters to that pile.”

“No, I agree on that,” Alik says, “but even then, he was still a solid character, arrogance aside. He was just a spoiled prince who had to actually think about other people for the first time in his life. Like he’s never had to deal with someone with a disability, and doesn’t know how else to feel other than annoyed. In the more recent drafts, he still doesn’t know how to deal with it, but he’s a lot more willing to make up for the disrespect, where the old version did it, but complained the whole time. It just so happens that this change happened right when you met him for the first time.”

“That’s… hm.” You take a sip and don’t spit it in Alik’s face. “You’re on the right track, but I don’t think I was writing all of that because of a crush.” You feel your face flush warmer again. “He was a bit of an ass at the party, but since then he’s become one of…” You take a moment to count names on your finger. “... six or seven people that aren’t patronizing about me going blind. I’d just been putting up with most of my family either coddling me or being inconvenienced by me, but he’s a rare instance of someone making accommodations, but not making a big show of it. That’s why the book was like that until I met Pantalone.”

You stare into your glass. “And… a-and it’s why I enjoy his company so much…”

Alik doesn’t say anything. You look up, and you see their expression has softened a little bit. They lift their drink up to you, and you smile and lift yours up.

“Cheers.”

You both take a swig, and somehow the disgusting drink tastes sweeter going down. Your face feels warm, and you wonder why you’re still blushing when you see you’re already halfway through your drink. Alik has a similar glow in their cheeks. 

“That’s really sweet and cute,” Alik says, “but I do have to ask you something.”

You feel whatever warm feelings you’re feeling lessen when Alik’s softened expression gains a hint of concern. Their smile looks awkward by comparison, before they sigh and lose it altogether. You’re already dreading what they’re about to say.

They hesitate for a moment, and when they speak, it’s in a whisper. “Do you like him, or do you like what he’s done for you?”

“W-What?”

“I wouldn’t ask that if we were talking about anyone else,” Alik clarifies, “but I have to ask when it’s him. I don’t want to rain on your parade, I’m happy you like someone, but… he’s a harbinger. One of the more likeable ones, but not without flaws.”

“I know…”

Alik sighs. “Look, if it were some other handsome rich man, I’d say go for it. The fact it’s a harbinger specifically makes me a little worried, I won’t lie.”

You sound like my mother. “It’s a crush, not an engagement,” you tell them. “We enjoy each other’s company while he works with my father and sister. I just enjoy it differently than he does.”

“Still, even as friends, I’d be cautious. If not for what he’d have planned, then for what others might have in store for him.”

You take a swig. “You want to know what’s funny? You’re the first person to bring up his enemies as a point for why I shouldn’t get near him.”

“I am not.”

“No, seriously. My mother doesn’t want me near him because he’ll probably, I don’t know, kill me or sell me or steal my ideas, depends on the day. My father thinks I’ll ruin everything those two have built together, which I still don’t know why Pantalone is working with him.”

“Maybe your dad’s indebted to him or something.”

“...”

Alik notices your silence. They say your name in a soft voice, seeming worried by your expression. Your father’s not in debt, is he? The business isn’t as prosperous as it was when you were little, but job markets change all the time, and the economy is ever fluctuating. It’s purely the result of what happens when a business runs for as long as it does. Sometimes an empire doesn’t crumble, but rather dies slowly.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You snap out of it. “I’m, uh, I’m fine.” You push your seat back and stand. “I’m just, um, I’m going to go to the washroom for a second.”

“... Okay? Just watch yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” you call out over your shoulder before immediately bumping into someone. Unlike with Pantalone, you actually manage to catch yourself before you fall. You know that Alik is holding their head in their hands, possibly stifling laughter too for a little extra salt in the wound.

“Archons, sorry,” you immediately blurt out, “I didn’t see you there.”

The ginger haired man laughs. “Oh, no worries comrade! Just be more careful next time!”

You stare at the man, eyes widening. His smile grows, almost reaching the dull blue of his eyes.

“Why the surprised face?” he asks jovially.

You sigh and shake your head. “I have got to stop meeting harbingers like this.”

[unhingedangstaddict]

✨💖Positivity chain! List 5 to 10 things that make you smile and explain why! Then send this to others to let them know they make you smile✨💖

Thank you so much for sending me this Moon!!

1. @desert--moonchild !! Even if we don't really know each other/barely talk, I absolutely love your fics and they got me through some really bad days, and also you were the first person to really make me feel like a part of this community and that meant the absolute world to me!!

2. The Tevan/BuckTommy relationship - for providing us with such an amazing character in Tommy Kinard and this beautiful community and of course LFJ's beautiful scrunchy smile (its literally so contagious how could it not make me smile?)

3. My baby sister - she's my favorite person and I love her so so much

4. Seeing my speech and debate kids (students) perform - I am absolutely blown away by them and I am amazed that these kids I coach are capable of such masterful public speaking skills! Their futures are so bright and they give me hope for the next generation!

5. A good hike - the promise of upcoming hiking/camping trips literally kept me alive at some of my lowest points and now getting to go out into beautiful mountain country and explore a new trail or revist a familiar one and witness the beauty of nature is so special to me

6. Baking with my siblings and dad - we just have so much fun and yeah we make a mess and we fight over who gets to pick the music we're probably too loud but who cares! We have fun and we make dad mix the dough when it gets too thick and our arms get too tired and he pretends its a chore but we all know he loves being involved and at the end we get some delicious treats

[hell-drabbles]

Now you got me curious about your angel oc (⁠✯⁠ᴗ⁠✯⁠)

Can you share more about him/them if possible ?(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Also I'm new here! 🪽Anon

Welcome! I'm still here, I just have real low mental energy.

Little warning, he's a bit of an extreme OC.

Heheheh the big dude's name is Raqiel and while this dude has a ton of muscle to him, he's not really a fighter anymore so much as he is a teacher. Well, was a teacher. His role in life was to basically take in a bunch of angels and both awaken and refine their blood lust towards devils in this church in a nice and open field.

However, one thing to know about Raqiel is that he only acknowledges God as his creator, as a parent, of sorts. Meaning, Raqiel does not pray nor worship God in the same way everyone else does. So, when God up and vanished one day, Raqiel didn't feel strongly towards that.

Now this brings up the question why Raqiel would bother teaching angels about the ways of killing and hurting. The answer to that?

Raqiel is a major masochist. The body of his is scarred to hell and back and he physically built himself up so he can take any and all pain. Like, he really likes being humiliated and having his ass beaten. The final test of many angels before they're assigned to a squadron is to hurt Raqiel is whatever ways possible.

Yeah, jacked up as he may be, he's kinda gross in a way that I like.

Now, Raqiel has taught many an angel in the many years he's been existing, to the point where he was actually a pretty well respected figure. As such, when it was found out that Raqiel didn't hold that same fanatical love towards God like every angel he's ever taught, they betrayed him, justifying to themselves that Heaven has no place for someone such as him.

So, they broke the joints in his wings, chipped his halo and dragged him to Hell to be used as bait for the devils. Though, before leaving him there, the angels that took him there wanted to get one last beat up in, and that's when the dear Reader finds him: beaten bloody and bruised, covered in his own cum and tears and utterly fucked up mentally and physically. It was one of those events where Raqiel has both experienced the worst and best orgasm of his life and that's going to mess with him.

It, uh, it's real hard not to take pity on him. The Reader witnessed him at his absolute lowest, so they couldn't help but take the chance to help him out. Was it a stupid decision? Certainly felt like it at the time. Of course, one can't exactly hide an angel of his size, nor would it really go over that well when the Reader is determined to help Raqiel out, so as a compromise, he was given bondage chains and a nice dog collar since the devils are convinced the Reader wants him as a pet.

And, because the devils were pushing for the Reader to give him a nickname for his new dog tag, Reader decided on the nickname, Lucky, derived from the 'Raqi' in his name. It's not really that deep of a nickname, but for Raqiel, fireworks were going off in his head.

From then on, Raqiel has decided that the Reader will be his God, that they will be the one he prays and worships to. His home throughly abandoned him without hesitation, and, as such, Raqiel will serve and protect you with all his being. He'll even fight against his once brethren if need be, even if he can't fly anymore.

Besides, what's more humiliating then being under the beck and call of a human hated by his kind and loved by the devils?

Of course, there will be various angels that will want him to come back, but anytime any angel manages to isolate him and talk to him, Raqiel will always say no. He wants to stay here.

Oh and here's how he looks like in my brain. He wears a typical priest outfit, and his earrings are actually bells rather than crosses. He can't retract his wings, so they're usually pretty limp and dragging behind him.

[tobiasdrake]

We're in. And we are making bad choices.

For the record, I'm pretty sure that whoever attacked us slipped out the door into the panel room and is now hiding behind the giant vault door we had to open to get in here. But, just like Desuhiko wouldn't let us disarm security, Yuma won't let us go back out into the panel room and check.

Fink the Slaughter Artist is right there, guys.

Got stabbed. Three times, as a matter of fact, judging from the wounds in his back.

Honestly, as Slaughter Art goes, I'm disappointed. Fink had ample time and this whole room to use as his canvas. "On floor stabbed by knife" is about as mediocre of a presentation as it gets.

You're gonna have to step up your game, Fink. Check out the Nail Man crime scenes some time. Now that is dedication to the craft. I'm sorry but as a critic, I'm going to have to give this piece my lowest score ever: 76.5/100.

About fucking time. That's what I wanted to do a minute ago and you were like, "NOOOO We gotta check the body!"

We could be in there right now checking the body if you hadn't stopped me.

OH BY WE YOU MEAN "YOU'. Okay man. Nice to see the limits to your bravado are shining through again.

I mean that affectionately. I said back at Aetheria Academy that I get it: Desuhiko's job is undercover intelligence gathering. He doesn't work homicides. That's fair. I won't fault him for it.

But it's funny.

Okay, I can breathe. We'll be able to access the crime scene without choking to death on poison gas now. And I still think Fink is hiding behind that big metal door, so we might manage to corner them.

If they don't have an alternate point of exit then they have to get past us somehow. As long as we're thorough and don't rush to the scene like idiots, this should work out.

There goes that idea. If Fink isn't behind the door, then where the hell are they? That knife didn't levitate itself into Huesca's back three times.

I mean, it could have. Superpowers exist. But it didn't. He reacted to the presence of another human being in the room with him, so the killer was physically present. Somehow.

Super dead.

I'm intrigued by the whiteboard back there. It's possible that it's like that from use, but someone also might have done that to erase... something they didn't want made. If only there was a way to see what it looked like before.

...if we brought Halara here, they could use their Postcognition to see what the crime scene looked like at the moment the first witness laid eyes on it. Which would be....

Us! That would be us. Halara can use Postcognition to make this room resemble what it looks like right now, as we speak.

...

Okay, that's not going to be very useful. Especially when Shinigami can do the same thing.

I mean. Like. Almost half of the killings were me. So. I'm at a 7 victim body-count versus 11 victims not killed by me. Not counting the two Peacekeeper goons that Yomi had executed for failure.

If it makes you feel better, there's about to be more once Shinigami and I figure out whodunit.

Excuse you, Shinigami. My corpse-production rate is also probably unparalleled within the WDO. I've certainly killed way more people than any Master Detective I've met to date. Well, except maybe Halara.

Oh, this will look good on our rap sheet. Everyone, prepare to say hihi to Yomi when he walks on. I want us all to give him our biggest smiles and most pleasant waves, like there's absolutely nothing wrong with this scene at all.

He won't be fooled for a second but he'll certainly be taken aback by it, and that will be a funny sight before we die.

...actually, on second thought, maybe we could rearm security. Close the door, turn the traps back on, and let Yomi tear out his hair trying to figure out how to pry us out of here. Then we can take our time investigating the death.

Nope, too late. Plan A then.

HIHI BUDDY! How are you? I'm swell! :D

The latter, as a matter of fact. Good guess, man. I can't even begin to try and defend myself when we all know I'll be going 8-to-12 by the time the sun rises again over Kanai Ward.

Yuma, we should probably go with that plan. We can buy time for Halara to get here by... whatever method Yakou did and then kick everyone's ass.

Oooh, a party! We should definitely go along with that plan! I've been wanting a party since we first got to the sub. Maybe there'll be cupcakes.

Wait, no, these guys are fascists. Sprinkled donuts. The monsters.

HA! Distraction! I recognize that shrieking voice. The guy "dying in agony" outside is Yakou.

Watch for our chance to bail, guys.

DON'T TELL YOMI, YOU DIPSHIT. Oh my god. All that effort to create a convincing distraction and Desuhiko blurts out, "LOOK, HE'S DISTRACTING YOMI!!!"

Yuma, I know you're generally non-violent except for all the murders but slap him.

Oh hey, it's my CTU plan! Throw Desuhiko at them and run like hell! Fubuki, Yuma, this is our chance!

In seriousness, I have no idea how this would seriously work. Those two guys have guns trained on us and a third with a baton is at the door. Desuhiko's hug of doom wouldn't stop them from shooting us in the slightest.

But okay. I guess this is how we get out of here.

Least we can go hook up with Yakou and figure out a new avenue for--

Oh. Uh. Hi. You must be Fink. How's tricks....

Oh. That's how.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit, that wasn't a distraction! IT'S HIM! IT'S FUCKING HIM! YAKOU IS THE FIRST TO DIE.

I mean he was the most expendable. Out of everyone here, I'll miss him the least. But still. Fuck. I am not ready for people to start dropping dead.

Fink again. Tossed his cloak aside to reveal a lab coat underneath, just before 'rounding the corner and vanishing from sight.

Total poser move. Definitely Halara. :P

Another one of Fink's knives. They all have the same F carved into them. Fink likes to leave his knives behind at his crime scenes so everyone knows he did it.

We broke the tradition of two bodies in chapter three so that we could have two bodies in chapter four.

Hooo. Why Yakou? He was out-of-disguise so this wasn't a mistaken identify or anything. Which, on that note, why was he out-of-disguise? But. In any case. What could Fink have possibly had against Yakou?

Was this revenge? Did Fink cheat on his wife and Yakou exposed him? I have no idea what to make of this.

We are officially across the threshold. Our teammates are mortal now. That. Is terrifying.

[supervisormeero]

Five things you enjoyed writing the most?

And, more random one- five favourite birds? (If that's too many birds I will accept a smaller number lol)

NO NO I WILL TALK ABOUT BIRDS ALL DAY! Birds first:

1. Blue jays. They’re beautiful, and smart, and their feathers are the best color, and they swoop in for peanuts the second you set them out. They imitate hawks to trick other birds into flying away from feeders, which is maybe an assholish thing to do, but they’re so smart.

2. Crows. They’re beautiful, they’re intelligent, they play pranks on each other and hold “funerals” and are absolutely not deserving of the hate they get.

3. Chickadees. They’re cute, they’re friendly, and they’ll eat seed out of your hand just because they’re curious and trusting.

4. Sandhill cranes. They’re so regal and graceful. They mate for life and return to the same places every year after they migrate. Also, it’s obvious when they’ve come back in the spring because the noise they make is SO loud and distinctive.

5. Red-bellied woodpeckers. They’re just funny. One of them tries to eat from my parents’ window feeder but that feeder isn’t set up for woodpeckers, so he hangs awkwardly off of the bottom of it and has to crane his neck to reach for a peanut. He gets it after a few tries.

Okay, now five things I’ve most enjoyed writing:

1. Syril and Dedra getting together in Frictious. I just love how unrefined it is. Dedra’s not wearing her uniform, Syril’s in his pajamas, she’s there to apologize but also not to apologize because she would never stoop so low. It’s intentionally messy because these two are so pristine, and I had a great time writing it.

2. Eedy and Dedra’s conversation in Consequences. That fic never really took off the way I’d hoped, probably because it was too lengthy and I wrote it too late to capitalize on the “Dedra meets Eedy” momentum. Seriously, though, I do think there’s more to Eedy Karn than meets the eye. It’s fun to write her as a nagging, harsh thorn in Syril’s side, but I have to wonder if she’d see Dedra and think of how much she has to lose if she falls for the wrong person. If it’d cause Eedy to reflect on much she, herself, “lost” when Syril’s father left. I do think she would treat Dedra differently than Syril because she’d respect her, whereas Syril is always falling short of her expectations.

3. Dedra watching Syril sleep in To Live By Nightfall and Die By Dawn. She simply doesn’t get him, emotionally. They’re across the galaxy from each other when it comes to affection, intimacy, and openness. Nonetheless, she’s transfixed by him - he’s a problem she can’t solve, and she hates being unable to put him right or eliminate him. She doesn’t understand why he loves her, and she doesn’t understand love, and she doesn’t understand vulnerability even though he’s the only person who’s seen her be absolutely vulnerable and chosen her even when she’s at her lowest point. I’m also admittedly super weak for her wearing his robe and sitting at his table to work. The domesticity!

4. Their wedding in Imperial Matrimony. Mostly because I love their vows, and Mosk as their witness, and the kiss. But also because I love Dedra slowly grasping the severity and extent of her plan… marrying someone to ensure their unrelenting loyalty is still marrying them, and that doesn’t really hit her until she’s standing at the altar.

5. Dedra’s “I love you” in Imperial Matrimony. I personally believe she’s capable of saying the words, but she’s not connected enough to her emotions to be cognizant of whether she means them. When she tells Syril she loves him, she’s trying to protect herself and the operation she’s about to embark on. But it also sort of rips her apart to say it, which she hadn’t anticipated. In her way and in that fic, at least, I do think she loves him. Never more than her duty and standing, of course, but she’s at least fond of his presence and would rather he stay than go.

Ask me my Top 5 or Top 10 anything!

[fearowkenya]

Winds of Change

Chapter 4: Stemming the Tide

It’s hard to hold onto hope when panic and fear take root and start to spread, climbing the notches of his spine and weaving back and forth between his ribs. But Ryo knows now, that hope and fear can both exist at once—he’s seen it for himself.

The group witnesses something that looks a lot like a miracle, but it's still not enough to chase away everybody's fears. Ryo and Shuuji each find themselves with separate demons to battle as they resist the pull of despair.

ao3 link in source, extended end-of-chapter author's note below!

editing this chapter took WAY longer than usual. I do two proofreads per chapter before i post, and if i edit more than a couple of sentences at any point, i start the entire proofread over. needless to say, i did a LOT of editing and rereading before finally making it to my posting checklist. ultimately though im pretty happy with it. mostly im just so glad to have finally posted the scene that was jokingly titled "labramon the egg wizard" so i could talk about how much I enjoy the title "labramon the egg wizard". jokes that are for me

anyway, "labramon the egg wizard" is one of the first parts of this fic that i wrote! there's a skeletal outline of the events in that section in my replay notes, though a lot about that scene has changed since then. it was always going to be labramon who was gonna help out though! why labramon..? … … well she's a dog , and it made me go 'heheh' to think of her doing pointer behaviors. no other reason (:

i know we get renamon egg in moral, but i don't actually remember much of what that looked like because it lasted like 2 seconds. thats absolutely NOT what i wanted for shuuji - i wanted it to be a scene that completely bodies him, where hes got this unexpected second chance hovering just beyond his reach, but he has to confront exactly what he's done in order to get it. i dont remember a lot of 02, but that one episode where ken goes looking for wormmons egg has this very specific vibe where its like, "here's some hope for you when youre at your lowest but never forget that you seriously fucked it up". it was brutal but beautiful and then i cried a bunch i think. idk it was a long time ago. maybe im completely misremembering that scene, who can say. thats how it lives in my memories tho

in any case, i definitely wanted it to be from ryo's perspective for the same reason that the aftermath of wendimon was from his pov. he's so much more observant than shuuji, who would not take notice of what the others are doing and saying while he's in the middle of getting pingponged between hope and gut-wrenching remorse.

the middle section, titled in the draft as "mcfreakin losin it", was a lot of fun too! the Plan(tm) at the beginning was something i edited in pretty late in proofreading. having an itemized list like that might feel more like a "shuuji thing" than a "ryo thing", but i think ryo's active effort to take responsibility and try to help kunemon with what hes stressed about would lend to him trying to come up with something a little more concrete. unfortunately for ryo, he has no backup plan for when the first one is turned upside down, and we all know what happens when something catches him off guard lmao. it was actually really interesting to write ryo in a position where he's witnessing more or less what he himself is like when he shuts down. being the one who has to snap shuuji out of this state has ryo realizing that this is what takuma and kunemon have to deal with when he's the one freaking out. i think that's kinda fun.

the last section has what feels to me like the most editing. it really wasn't a section that i spent a lot of time fiddling with until now because the bulk of it was quoting or paraphrasing existing dialogue from the start of part 6 for context, then diverging into what that scene looks like in a world where lopmon isn't around to be unable to explain what happened. like i said on ao3, as i was reading over the canon dialogue in truthful for reference, i realized i really just…didn't like it much. the argument escalates and de-escalates several times but never to a degree that feels all that extreme, and ends up feeling like it's just dragging out for no reason. people make their points at times that feel WEIRD, particularly ryo. lemme see if i can explain this.

so ryo doesnt say this til the latter half of this argument, and i HATED THAT because it's like… after everything he's been through with kunemon, it doesn't feel right that he's having those doubts. but i thought about it and i actually think it makes sense for him to have a momentary lapse where he slips back into old habits - letting fear take over and pushing away anything and anyone that has even the slightest chance of hurting him. he spent a LOT of time in that mindset, and even though he's working on reversing it, it's not gonna happen in a day. that said… the placement of ryo's doubts in the canon dialogue still feels super weird. i think it makes a lot more sense for him to panic at the very beginning of this argument, and then calm down as he remembers how solid his bond with kunemon is before sticking up for the digimon a little more aggressively. it just feels so passive in-canon when i think he would have taken a much more active role in defending falcomon and the others once 1) he remembers the context surrounding what happened in the waterway, and 2) he's reminded of how kunemon has helped him change.

i know some of the weird pacing of this dialogue is because the player needs to have input at some point, but i think takuma could've been much more powerless during this argument - the game has no problem taking away agency, since saving ryo is the only thing that will save shuuji, no matter what the player does. maybe im nitpicking, idk.

regardless, minoru's dialogue makes the most sense, but i still think it could have been condensed into a much sharper and more sudden escalation. it keeps being like "(minoru voice) IM MAD IM MAD" "(takuma voice) chill" "(minoru voice) oops sorry. … … … IM MAD IM MAD IM MAD" "(takuma voice) calm down" "(minoru voice) oops. … … … IM MAD IM MAD" etc etc etc. it just made the argument feel weak and drawn-out instead of intense and explosive.

i did keep some of it though! i thought that minoru's paranoia and sudden fear of trusting his partner was pretty compelling, which is why i kept those doubts in and quoted the lines about him wanting falcomon to prove his loyalty.

i chose those lines specifically because they say a LOT about minoru once you connect this argument with what i think is the root of his insecurities - his parents' divorce.

it's funny because as far as im aware, The Divorce doesn't even come up unless you choose an INCORRECT ANSWER in an OPTIONAL affinity event with minoru. im not 100% sure thats the only mention though! im currently at pt8 of my replay where the goal is to see every bit of truthful route dialogue possible. if it comes up in other routes, i managed to miss it lmao. anyway, because of that, for the longest time i thought The Divorce was just a popular headcanon, and didn't actually see that dialogue until recently. but as soon as i did i started looking at the stuff he does and says through the lens of somebody who was affected extremely poorly by his parents divorce, and it contextualized A LOT for me. suddenly the way he reacts in pt 6 makes so much sense, because imo falcomon turning around and killing him isn't his only concern: he's also terrified that he was vulnerable in front of someone who doesn't actually care.

pre-game minoru lacks a support system, and is afraid to rely on a new one. im not going to go on about it for too long because we'd be here all day, but im pretty sure that his parents divorce was MESSY, and he witnessed all of it. that same event where he mentions to takuma that his parents are divorced is also when he says that he doesn't think his mom has noticed that he's missing, even though at this point the kids believe that they've been gone for several days. he doesn't see his mother as support because she's too busy working, and since he doesn't even know where his father currently lives, clearly he doesnt get much if any support from his dad. the difficulty minoru has in shedding the goofy exterior and being genuine and vulnerable in front of people makes me think that he never found a support system to replace the one that he watched crumble in realtime when his parents split.

prior to part 6, we can assume that minoru started to see falcomon as someone that he could allow to see his insecurities. i also believe that minoru understood that shuuji and lopmon's relationship was supposed to look a lot like his and falcomon's, or like anybody else and their partner's. minoru could see lopmon trying to be supportive, so the dysfunction only seemed like it was on shuuji's end. so when lopmon flies off the handle and tries to murder shuuji, one of the things that minoru gets from it is that, no, actually, the trust and support that the digimon have for their partners is NOT unconditional. i think that watching this happen looks exactly like how it felt when the support system he'd had in his parents completely fell apart, except the lopmon situation comes with a fun extra "I'm going to kill you" sort of vibe that tells minoru that his relationship with falcomon is just not safe.

or worse, maybe that support system was never real in the first place. what if there was something darker beneath the surface that he just couldn't see?

anyway.

now, as dracmon says, all we gotta do is hurry up and wait. well. you do. i dont, im gonna be editing chapter 5 til the cows come home. im getting the distinct impression that it's gonna require even more reworking than this chapter did.

but that's neither here nor there - id love to hear your Gamer Theories about what im cooking up. there are a few things that are still going unaddressed after four chapters, and i wonder how much of it can be puzzled out based on what i've said so far. obviously im not able to see the story from a reader's perspective, so im not really able to gauge if the stuff that's being foreshadowed or otherwise implied is starting to become clearer. so please consider leaving a comment with what you think, or your favorite part or anything else that stood out to you! I'd much appreciate it. thank you for reading, and see you… mm… nnnnext…week…? ideally.

[red-riding-wood]

@call-sign-shark

First off, I love your depictions of the canon characters so much, Shark! They're perfectly natural reading here and I noticed you definitely put in work to get the details right; Tommy rubbing his cig on his lower lip, for example, stood out to me because I haven't seen many fic writers include that, but more on Tommy later. The interaction between John, Heaven and Arthur was great and I love how John both tried to flirt and also was just so blatantly caught off guard by her hair colour that he had to ask about it. And this line:

"I only see one ugly ass dog here and it's chewing on a toothpick."

I really enjoy it when characters have wit, and to semi-quote Arthur, this angel's got bite.

"Worries vanished in smoke, annihalated by his protective demeanor."

Can't really put into words why I love this line so much; it's probably the mention of smoke as I love fire/smoke/etc. metaphors, but it also shows just how safe Heaven feels with Arthur. Their relationship is just so much more wholesome than him and Linda (again, fook Linda). This next line is another perfect depiction of Heaven and Arthur's relationship:

"Each time you touched was a reminder that everything will always be fine as long as you were together."

Now, the smut. I think this was a perfect mix of poetry and sexiness, if that makes sense? You didn't hold back but you also gave us some beautiful prose, and little sensory things, like feeling Arthur smiling against her neck or hearing the whistle of the kettle (and the comparison of it to her desire).

"This is no bedroom..."

This line kind of killed me, lmao. That's all. Tommy being Tommy.

Ugh, Shark, my favourite thing about this chapter is her interaction with Tommy. I don't know where to begin and I have so many quotes saved. He's so menacing here and so in character, so straight to the point, immediately trying to buy her out.

"his bleak winter eyes" was a description I loved because of the reference to "In the Bleak Midwinter", which is a plot point and such that I just melt for I love it so much. Thank you for that reference. It's a beautiful description for him.

"While Arthur was made of fire, Thomas Shelby was surely made of ice."

AFRKSAHFKSF SHARK I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Such a perfect metaphor for the two of them.

"He might had blood on his hands but you did too."

This is such a badass and intriguing line. I'm so curious, what happened to those villages she hunted down and killed (assuming that really was her?). I'm still so intrigued by the whole witch backstory and goddamn, I love brutality in characters (I swear this isn't a red flag). I would absolutely love -- no, I need -- a flashback of this from Heaven's POV.

I was not expecting but really appreciated Heaven calling out Tommy for being cold to Arthur sometimes, especially in his lowest moments like when he nearly killed himself and such. I've been watching the series again kind of recently with a friend and somehow on my first couple watches I failed to see what an absolute cunt Tommy is to his brother??? I'm not trying to start a Tommy hate train here, 'cause I think his character is very well written, but I am kind of baffled by his treatment of Arthur in some scenes.

“Why dear?  Do you see a sapphire in my eyes?” 

Yooooo okay. Okay. This is dark but I fucking love this callout. And how this is the trigger that breaks Tommy's composure. So well done.

"...You'll want him even when he’ll go back home wasted, yelling at you and breaking things because he will ultimately do it..."

Lastly, this line, I really adore because this is exactly what Arthur will do but I have the feeling that, unlike Linda, Heaven will still love him in spite of these things.

Heaven in Your Eyes|| Arthur Shelby x OC!Reader

Summary:  When Arthur comes home with his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, willing to introduce you to the family, the reactions are lukewarm. Some love you, some are wary, and others do not really care. But when it comes to Thomas Shelby, things are different. After meeting you he comes to two conclusions: first, Arthur is madly smitten with you to the point it worries him. Second, he does not like you. Not at all. That's why he tries to scare you away.

Words: 4,5k

TW: smut, non-protected sex, p in v, age gap (reader is in her late 20s), typical canon violence, mention of suicide attempt, mention of drugs, Tommy being a dick,

Notes: ✞ All chapters can be read as stand-alones but it's obviously better if you read everything.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Bloody Hell.” 

That was all John could say when his vibrant blue eyes fell on you.  The night Thomas told him Linda and Arthur had divorced, he could not believe it. He, more than anyone else, was well aware of his older brother’s tendencies to kowtow under his wife’s authority. Hence his reluctance to believe in such an improbable event. Once he processed the information, John thought about the whole ordeal over and over again. At first, he genuinely thought Linda was the one who left for she had already threatened Arthur to do so countless times. Let alone the fact their relationship had been hanging on by a thread for a while. Somehow he could not blame her — dealing with his brother’s mental illness and tantrums was overwhelming, he could get it, but if there were positive traits among Arthur’s troubled behaviors they were certainly his loyalty and the gigantic amount of love he could give to his significant other. That was why he was persuaded Arthur would never leave his wife, as much as John and the Shelby women warned him she was not a good person.

— And here he came today after weeks of absolute ghosting, the fairest creature he has ever seen snuggling in his arms. For sure, no one expected it.

“Bloody. Fucking. Hell.” He reiterated, standing in the doorway with his hand still on the knob and his eyes wide open. Astounded, John looked at you from head to toe for probably the tenth time in a row. 

“Are ya going to stand there like a dumbass or can we come in?” Arthur growled. He tightened his protective embrace around you, ready to bounce on his little brother’s throat at the slightest inappropriate comment. You bit your lip, not really sure what to do or say — maybe meeting the Shelby family was not a good idea after all.

“Is she really your woman?”

“Fuck off, John! Let us in.” Arthur said louder. He did not want to throw a brutal fit in front of you but you could feel his body shaking against yours, for John was about to cross the very short limits of his patience. One of your small hands gently stroked his chest in an attempt to calm him. Luckily for John, the sensation of your cold skin, which he could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt, was enough to tame his fire.

John Shelby blinked again and, this time, his thin adorable lips stretched in a teasing smile. You did not know him, but you felt he was about to say something stupid. Very stupid.

“How could such a stunning young girl like her be interested in an old and ugly ass dog like you? Fuck, is that your real hair color tho?” 

The flip in Arthur’s brain switched - it was too much for him not to react.

“YOU LIL PIECE OF —“  

“Arthur, dear.” You said with an indescribably soft voice, stepping in front of him to block his path. You pressed your hands on his chest a second time to gently keep him from fighting with his younger brother and probably knocking him out with his bare fists, “It’s alright. He is just messing with ya, you know?” You looked at him, a loving smile flattering your juicy lips.  Letting a long and noisy exhale out of his quavering mouth, Arthur looked dagger at his brother one last time with a threatening gleam burning in his iris before shifting his focus on you. As soon as his steel blue eyes caught sight of your adorable pout his face relaxed.

“Alright. Alright.” He whispered, feeling his rage evaporating at the sole view of your holy smile, “Ain’t going to smash his face in front of such a delicate little lady, eh.” He said. The gravel in his voice never failed to make you burn with both love and desire.  Then, he leaned over you for a kiss, his mind finding its peace only when your lips crashed together.

John watched the scene with vivid interest, for he had never seen someone handling his brother with such genuine care.  To be honest, he had hated Linda since day one — not only for the power she exerted on Arthur but also because of her irritating and condescending nature. She had always walked among the Shelby family as if she had been irremediably better than them, both morally and socially. John could not help but see all her sweet gestures being tainted with a will of controlling Arthur. That, along with the muzzle and leash she had put on her brother,  strengthened his deep aversion for Linda. But you were different — he could sense it. There was something about the way your fingers laid upon his brother as if you were not afraid of his destructive fire but did not want to extinguish it either. Also something about the way you looked at him, with both love and admiration, to the point he could not say if you were his guiding light or if it was the other way round. And when he saw the sudden shift in Arthur’s behavior, immediately calming down at your angelic voice, he knew you were the one.

“Moreover” You added, slowly pulling away from the kiss to press your forehead against his. Arthur looked at you with eyes half closed, bewitched by your enchanting tone.

“Hmm?”

 “I only see one ugly ass dog here and it’s chewing on a toothpick.” Your smile turned into a cunning smirk and your precious aquamarine eyes glanced at John.

“Hey! Hold your woman.” John retorted, pretending to be vexed — truth was he liked your wit, “Alright you can come in,” he said, stepping away from the doorway to invite you inside the Shelby’s house.

“Ain’t holding shit, I love it when me angel bites,” Arthur stated with one sharp, almost carnivorous grin on his face. As he passed by his little brother he punched him right in the shoulder in a typical sibling way to avenge himself. The younger one swore.

You took a deep breath and looked at Arthur, trying to find the necessary courage you needed for this first encounter. Admittedly, you did not know what to expect, but one thing you knew was that the Shelby family was not people you wanted to mess with. 

A relieved sigh escaped from your lips as you filled the teapot with water, all alone in the family kitchen. You enjoyed this quick moment of calmness, soothed by the pleasant smell of freshly baked cookies Esme had taken out of the oven minutes ago. The wooden floor creaked when Arthur entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. As soon as you left the table following Polly’s comment he had followed you.

“Yer okay?” He asked, his hoarse voice highlighted with sincere worries. 

“I’m fine dear,” You glanced at him above your shoulder and offered a light smile to reassure him even though you both knew you were hurt, “You should go back to your family, I won’t be long.. Just needed to take a big breath. And we are running out of tea.” You added, waving off his question.

Arthur shook his head in disapproval and walked toward you with his so-specific yet adorable gait, swinging both arms at the same time. You had always found this detail absolutely endearing, which had surprised him at first — you never mocked him for the way he walked, nor made the slightest snarky remark.

Your smile, flickering and fragile at first, soon widened in comfort knowing he’ll keep you company during this life-saving break. 

“I’m sorry for what Pol said to you. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Pretty sure she did mean I was a Devil and that I’ll bring woe to this family, but it’s fine.”  You said before shifting your attention back to the teapot. Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you in a tight and reassuring back hug. As soon your bodies collided together, his warmth alleviated all your doubts and you found a well-deserved comfort in his presence. Worries vanished in smoke, annihilated by his protective demeanor. 

Each time you touched was a reminder that everything will always be fine as long as you were together.

You wiggled your nose like a little bunny for his musky perfume tickled your nostrils. And its familiar fragrances were enough to chase Polly’s unpleasant comments away from your brain. If you had not been busy making tea, you would have buried your face in his chest and never moved again.

“It has nothing to do with ya,” Arthur broke the silence first, “it’s your hair.”

“My hair?” You asked in a half-convinced tone, one brow raised. 

“Yes, your hair. She thinks someone cast a spell on ya when you were young or something, and she’s afraid the spell will harm her too if she sits next to you. Like it’s bloody contagious. It’s some kind of superstitious shit, not that she had really felt something evil in you.”

At such a revelation, you brought your small hand to your mouth to cover it and tried your best not to laugh. If her words had hurt you, painfully reminding your troubled life in France, the idea of a strong woman like Polly Gray being afraid of you only because of the color of your hair had something hilarious.  

“Esme too. She told me she’d personally kick me in the balls if her fookin’ baby comes out with white hair. But that woman is batshit crazy anyway. Pretty sure she’ll kick me in the bollocks for free.”  He growled, his arms tightening around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder. Arthur was holding you firmly as if he was afraid you might run away from him after the disastrous encounter with the two Shelby women. After waiting all his life for a woman not to flee from him, he would break into a million pieces if you would do so. Fortunately enough, Ada seemed to like you. She fancied your wit and your curiosity. Most of the afternoon had been spent chatting with her and John under the judging eyes of both Polly and Esme. Usually, people would shut Ada down each time she would talk about politics, especially about her communist ideas, but you did not. Quite the contrary, you listened to her carefully and questioned her with a genuine will to learn — even though you had never been good with politics. At least the conversation had been stimulating. And just like John before, she had also noticed the indescribable care and love with which you blessed her older brother, never controlling him, and always showering him with signs of deep affection. Maybe that was why she did not tease you when she noticed that you and Arthur were holding hands under the table. 

As for Finn, he had been too busy staring at Arthur with eyes wide open to even bother interacting with you. He could not believe that you, a tiny young white-haired girl with an angel face, were in love with his violent brother.

“So they think I’m contagious.” You might have been too confident about your ability to remain impassive because you suddenly snorted with laughter as you understood the true nature of their rude behavior. The crystalline laugh that escaped your mouth sounded like the most delicate music to his ears — he would listen to it with delight each time, his sick brain momentarily forgetting the booming canons and cacophony of war. Arthur, relieved by your reaction, allowed himself to chuckle along. 

“They do, eh.” He admitted, his lips gently brushing your neck, irremediably attracted by your fragile porcelain flesh. His breath, slow and peaceful, caressed your sensitive skin as he exhaled, sending shivers down your spine. Arthur closed his eyes for a second and let the delightful scents of your perfume intoxicate him. Way stronger than any drugs, your fragrances made his head spin — he was losing touch with reality but, this time, he was more than allowing it to happen. Because instead of being sent into a violent craze, he would drown in a blissful haze. 

“You should flee from me, I might infect you too, and you’ll be under my spell.” You teased, your heavy French accent adorning your words.

“I’m already under your spell, love.” His arms freed your waist from their grip only for his strong, calloused hands to run up your sides. How much you enjoyed the sensation of your body flickering under his touch as his soft fingers left trails of fire in their sillage until they finally cupped your small breasts. A blazing desire awoke in your belly and spread like wildfire through every inch of your flesh.

“Arthur — no,” You looked around you to make sure no one had discreetly entered the kitchen.

“Why not say Arthur yes?”  He grunted in your ear. His raspy voice caused an earthquake in your whole being — it shook you so strongly that your legs were now trembling, ready to give up under your weight.  Your lips parted to say something but words got stuck in your throat as his hips pressed against yours to keep you trapped between the kitchen counter and his tall, lean body. 

“I’m serious, we could get caught. And half of your family already distrust me so I’m pretty sure fucking in their kitchen won’t do me good.” You managed to say quickly before biting your lip, trapping its juicy flesh between your teeth. 

“It will do good, love. Fookin’… Good…” His thumbs gently rubbed your perky nipples, which were already pointing through the thin white fabric of your dress. A feverish and liquored sigh escaped from his lips, as he started moving his hips against the sinful curve of your butt cheeks, “I crave you so much Heaven, ” he paused his sentence to lay myriads of hungry kisses on your neck, “You make me lose me bloody mind…” An excruciating heat pooled in his body, so insufferable he could have ripped his skin apart. Arthur growled again at the overwhelming sensation of lava flowing through his veins

—  “I. Need. Ya.”

You don’t understand. He did not only want you, he needed you.

You were his missing half, and he could only feel complete with you.

You were his light, and he could only find a way out of the darkness if you were here.

You were his saving grace, his redemption.

You were his breath, his blood, his heart.

You. You. You. You. 

There was only you. 

You could not help but moan in a frail and aroused whine: his hands had left your breasts to travel everywhere they could on your body, almost a bit too eagerly for you to keep up with what was happening. At that point you had to hold onto the counter, nails digging into its worn wood. 

“Arthur.” You whispered, eyes closed and head down. As the arousal building within almost suffocated you, Arthur kept invading your pale and fragile flesh with both his daring hands and mouth. You whimpered at the pinching sensation of his teeth that had just bit the base of your neck. You were usually not timid when it came to sex, but not when the family of your man was taking the tea in the room that was right behind the door. But Arthur could not care less about getting caught. All he wanted was a taste of his angel.

He was everywhere — on every inch of your body, his lips kissing and biting. His hands rubbing and grabbing. He was overwhelming your senses with his unquenchable need to touch you again and again. And how good it felt to be desired as he did. 

To be desired "À la Folie".

“Say you want me, eh. I wanna hear it.”  The gravel in his voice sent tremors in your belly. You exhaled, your breath shaky, for one of his hands had just lifted your dress. Doing so, he disclosed your garters and the beautiful lace panties you were wearing. The fear of getting caught was still pounding in your chest, but the way he touched you was too good to resist. You gave in, ready to pay the consequences. 

“I want you Arthur, “ You finally admitted, your lips stretching in a smirk, “ I want you,” You repeated, arching your back and spreading your legs  to show how eager you were to feel him inside you, “Only you.” You had uttered the last two words with such tenderness, such a comforting tone, that you felt him smile against your neck. His mustache was tickling you at each word, each movement, which only contributed to the hurricane of sensations and feelings he provoked within your soul.  Right next to you, the teapot had started to let out a faint and continuous whistle as the water boiled inside. At one point you were convinced it was not the kettle, but your scorching desire that made such a sound.  

With one skillful movement, Arthur’s fingers shifted your soaked panties to the side and he unbuckled his belt with his other hand.

“Please…” You bent over the counter and begged, for the clothes that separated your bodies had become a far too heavy burden to bear. The only moment you felt a twinge of satisfaction was when his hard shaft pressed against your dripping pussy. 

“Bloody hell, woman.” He grunted, his voice raspier than it usually was, as your delightful warmth and wetness welcomed him. 

Arthur grabbed your hips fiercely and, unable to wait any longer, sunk into you in one slow but determined trust. A gravel moan, far from being discreet, echoed in the kitchen at the dizzying sensation of your warmth swallowing him. Struck by a moment of clarity, you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your whimpers of pleasure.  Stars dangled behind your closed eyelids, along with the melody of beating hearts and snapping flesh. In that risky situation, you were both well aware it was not time for a languid and intimate moment, but rather for a quick and torrid fuck. Hence, Arthur started to pound you with a fierce and quick pace as soon as you had adjusted to his size.  Your legs quivered even more for his cock was thick, so thick your walls were stretched all around him. 

“So… Tight…” He stuttered, breathless.

“Oh my — Arthur, Arthur!” You chanted, as a poor sinful soul chanting for God to set her free. The way his name melt on your tongue only made his thrusts rougher, for he loved how it sounded in your mouth. Especially with that adorable French accent of yours. There, with his cock buried deep in your heavenly cunt, he felt like a proud man — not some kind of rabid animal, or a lonely lunatic anymore.  He just felt like a good man, giving pleasure to his good and beautiful little wife.

His pulse quickened. His pupils dilated, and you felt him going faster. Muffling your screams, you lost yourself in a fire of lust. You were not you anymore, but a wet mess of desire.

The pleasure you were giving him sent a shot of dopamine through his brain. Arthur threw his head back, grunting louder, and let his whole being sink in the high you were causing him “So — good. Yer so good, Angel. Keep pleasing your ol’ Arthur, will ye?”  His hips jerked for he felt his climax coming. Yet, Arthur put his own pleasure on the back burner, refusing to come if you did not. He kept fucking you on the counter and slipped one of his hands between your legs to rub his fingers against your swollen clit. This time it was too much to handle: your walls clenched around him and you froze, all your muscles tensing at once. A cry of release would have echoed in the kitchen if you had not choked it with your hand. A tsunami of pleasure crashed against your bones, leaving you panting and shaking like a leaf, still bent over the kitchen counter with your dress lift and Arthur deep inside you.  

As you cum, your glistening love juice dripping along his shaft, Arthur allowed his own pleasure to overflow. He slammed his hips one last time against yours -- his cock throbbed, at the edge of climax. But as much as he wanted to fill you with his semen, he still gathered all his remaining will to pull out in extremis.

You sighed with ecstasy when warm and milky ropes of cum rained down on your ass.

“Aah yes, love.” Arthur’s hoarse moan echoed in the kitchen. How long did you stay there? You could not tell, for you were still dizzy with the orgasm he had just given you. Arthur slowly came back to his senses, the fog of pleasure in his brain evaporating. 

"We should get back to the living room, eh."

That was at this moment of intense relaxation, the two of you catching your breath and sharing post-sex smiles, that the door slammed open.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Your heart missed a beat. In one movement, Arthur pulled up his pants while you strengthened up and smoothed the folds of your dress before turning to the newcomer.

“Fuck off Tommy. Can’t you knock?!” 

“This is no bedroom. I don’t need to knock because I am not supposed to find anyone having sex here.” A freezing and quiet voice, also blessed with a seductive and hoarse tone, retorted.

The infamous Thomas Shelby stood in front of you, arms crossed in his back and cold blue eyes staring at you.  If you had the ability to disappear right on the spot you would have used it without hesitation. Yet, you remained silent, slightly hidden behind Arthur who ran his hands through his hair to slick back the rebel strands that had fallen on each side of his face. The older Shelby quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue before talking.

“Erm, can I help ya Tommy?” He asked, still panting from your quick but intense fuck. You took advantage of their conversation to wipe the sweat from your forehead and briefly redo your hair.

���I am afraid you can’t, brother. However, I am pretty sure you charming woman can. I’d like to talk to her if she allows me to.” 

You frowned. Why the hell did he want to talk to you in private?

Arthur nodded and wrapped your shoulders with one protective arm, his surprised expression turning into a smile. He could not wait to introduce you to his little brother, filled with pride at the idea of showing him his magnificent woman. It was important to him — even though he would have preferred him not to meet her in these conditions — “Of course, I've been waiting to…”

“Without you.” Tommy cut him off, and his words broke Arthur’s dawning grin.  Despite the rollercoaster of emotions you just had, you could not help but open your mouth.

“He’s your older brother. He has every right to remain here while we talk, hasn’t he?” You argued, unhappy with the way Thomas Shelby acted. Arthur had waited the whole afternoon for Tommy to come so that he could introduce you to him, and when his little brother finally ought to show up he sent him off. That was painful to watch, “or if you really want to talk to me in private I think you might ask politely.” 

A heavy silence fell in the room. How dare you speak to him with that arrogant tone? He thought. Tommy inhaled through his nose slowly, and moistened his lips, “Well, Arthur would you please leave me and your charming lady alone for two minutes?” He reiterated with a more polite phrasing. In spite of his unshaken placidity, his bleak winter eyes were looking daggers at you. He had certainly killed you at least three times in his mind. Slightly confused, Arthur looked at you, then at Tommy, before nodding, “Right,” he mumbled, his eyes fleeing his brothers’. He kissed your cheek and reluctantly left the kitchen, already aching from your absence. 

You sighed, wondering what was going to happen now that you were all alone with the fearless Peaky Blinders’ boss everyone was talking about. Rather than starting the conversation, you took a cigarette from the small silver case that was on the counter and slipped it between your full lips, still swollen from the countless times you had bit them when you and Arthur had sex. Thomas Shelby remained silent too— all he did was walk to you, his soles hammering the floor, and lit up your cigarette with his zippo. But you were not fooled by his gentlemanly appearance nor by his undeniable charm. You took a puff from your cigarette until the tip ignited, and you stepped back from him as quickly as you could. Contrary to what people could think when watching Arthur and you, you did not like people entering your personal space without an invitation.

“I’ll go straight to the point, Miss Lavey. How much do you want?” He asked, his low and quiet voice undisrupted by the slightest emotions. While Arthur was made of fire, Thomas Shelby was surely made of ice. 

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, brows furrowed , for you had not understand what he meant.

“How much money do you want to leave my brother?”

His words were so violent, so unexpected, that you were unsure if he had just slapped you across the face or not. Your mind started to buzz, its gears creaking and tinting as you tried not to burst out in anger at such an indecent suggestion. Against all his expectations, your innocent pout turned to the most freezing expression he had ever seen on a woman.

“To Hell with your money. I don’t know what you're trying to do but I won’t leave him. Why would I, eh?”

“Because I don’t trust you.” He retorted as soon as you had finished your sentence. Thomas quickly rubbed his cigarette on his lower lip and lit it. White smoke came out from his nostrils as he stared at you, like an angry dragon gazing upon the last breath of his future meal. “When I learned for you and Arthur I decided to send some of my guys to investigate on you. They told me every bloody thing,” He emphasized each syllable, almost baring his teeth doing so for you to understand he was not joking — in case you doubt it, “ I know you come from that small town in the French Alps. I know about the witch hunt that took place there and all the women who have been tortured and burned. But more than that, I know that you managed to escape right before they tied you to the pyre. And I also know about the story of the five poor villagers who have been hunted and killed like animals — it was you, right?” Tommy exhaled another cloud of smoke, his eyes never losing their focus on you.

“— And?”  You gritted through your teeth, hatred blooming in your heart at the mention of these traumatizing memories. However, you did not let it show, for you knew it would please him. Thomas Shelby was well aware of the threatening aura that emanated from him, and how to use it for his own benefit. If you displayed any sign of fear or anger, it would be over and he would win. And somehow you were not particularly afraid of him.

He might had blood on his hands but you did too.

“And I will not tolerate a witch and a murderer around this family, nor will I let you take advantage of Arthur and ruin him.” 

“Now you’re worried for Arthur. Isn’t it a bit too late?” You said, all the traits of your doll-like face suddenly devoid of any emotion, except a slight shade of unsettling arrogance, “You throw away his meds, you send him off when he asks you for help — when he tells you he’s desperate.” You stubbed your cigarette out in the nearest ashtray, “You didn’t even help him when he was ruining himself with cocaine. But that’s not it.” You walk toward Tommy, reducing the distance between you and him with unstoppable steps until you were standing a few inches from him. You raised your head to look at his arctic blue eyes, “He tried to kill himself and all you did was wave it off at best and treat him like a child at worst. Now let me ask you something, Thomas Shelby. Who’s the one who uses his own brother as his combat dog? And who’s the one who closes his eyes on his problems until they are insufferable enough for him to attempt suicide?” 

Thomas clenched his jaws, his gaze hardening. He had to admit you had guts for a frail creature he could have broken in half with his bare hands. You were such a small yet fierce woman, it almost unsettled him. Moreover, you were smart, and smart was dangerous.

“So, don’t ever say I am the one who will manipulate and ruin Arthur when you do it on a daily basis. I love your brother, and whether you like it or not I’ll stay by his side.”

He rolled his eyes. The conversation was slowly but surely getting on his nerves, “Listen, I don’t need another Linda. She almost turned him into her dog and yet he was barely half in love with her compared to what he feels for you. Look at him! Look at fucking Arthur Shelby! He would throw himself out of London Bridge if you’d ask him to do so. She already tried to change him and took him away from this family, so don’t think I am naive enough to believe in your so-called love and kindness.”

“I ain’t gonna change shit. I am well aware of his demons, well aware of what he is but that's okay, I accept him the way he is. All I want is to see him healed and happy. No matter if he wants to keep killing people for your business. Sky could break loose I won’t give a damn as long as he feels better.”

Another silence. Thomas was trying hard to decipher your intentions but he could not probe your far-too-unique eyes. His brows furrowed; it was the first instance of emotions you had seen on his face since the beginning of your not-so-cordial conversation. 

“You’re a bad omen, Heaven. I can feel it.”

“Why dear?  Do you see a sapphire in my eyes?” 

A rush of thunderous rage ran through his veins — how could you mention Grace's death? A gleam of violence ignited Thomas's eyes, who suddenly grabbed your throat without any warning sign. His strong and large hand tightened around your fragile neck and pressed against your windpipe enough for you to give you trouble breathing. You tried to talk but nothing came out, words choked under his palm. The pressure was not enough to really choke you, but it was still painful. With eyes wide opened in surprise, you wrapped your own fingers around his wrist and clawed his flesh in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grip, but Thomas did not falter. Quite the contrary, the more you struggled the more he closed his fist around you.

“Don’t ever disrespect Grace anymore!” He gritted through his teeth, “You want to stay by Arthur’s side? Fine. So here's the plan: you’re going to be a good little wife for him and you won’t cause any trouble, nor interfere with my business. You’re going to do the best you could to make him happy and you’ll take care of him. You'll want him even when he’ll go back home wasted, yelling at you and breaking things because he will ultimately do it,” He paused, his eyes falling on the pale flesh of your throat he was still holding. The expression on his face changed for one brief second as he started to caress your neck with his thumb, almost too tenderly to be completely devoided of any kind of attraction, “but let me set this straight: if you ever try to leave him, if you become an inconvenience or if any member of my family is hurt because of your cursed being… I’ll burn you in a field like the witch you are.” 

He finally released your throat and looked at the scratches you inflicted on his wrist. As you inhaled loudly, Thomas rolled down the sleeve of his shirt to hide the red and thin cuts your nails had left on his skin. He did not even bother checking on you.

“Let’s go back to the living room. And wear your most beautiful smile.” He stated with his usual cold demeanor, watching you rub your sore throat. Then, he offered you his arm to keep up appearances. You reluctantly accepted and followed him out of the kitchen, still shaken by the conversation — 

The whole family, freshly joined by Michael Gray, was chatting together, all scattered here and there in the living room. Arthur, a hip flask filled with whisky in one hand, got up from his chair as soon as he saw you. At first, you thought he suspected something but the truth was that Thomas was insanely clever and he took care not to leave any bruise on your delicate skin.  And when it came to hiding things, he was certainly the best. Even better than you. Tommy finally released you from his grip so that you could come back to his older brother, then he poured some whisky into a glass for him.

“Well Arthur, congratulations. You’ve brought a stunning and lovely lady into that house. I guess we could welcome her in the family, since she made our good ol’ Arthur happy, eh.”

He rose his glass to you, his threatening blue eyes staring right at your soul. 

“Welcome, Heaven. Hope you'll stay with us for a while.” He said, pretending nothing had happened.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Also, the third first parts of this series can be read as stand-alone but I advise you to read everything if you want a better understanding of details.

Tagging those who might be interest: @areyenotfondofmelobster @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybrid

[siegecoffeemug]

Another set of bad decisions to wake up to.

Yesterday was one of the hardest days since everything happened. I wanted a pint and a chat with my friends. I was sad but not overly so, but not a single one asked how I was.

Went home, had a quick one downstairs then my friends showed up so had another couple. By now, I'd had enough and was starting to get sadder, so drank up and left.

And ran straight into your friend. I had tears in my eyes but said I was okay and left. I couldn't take the thought of just letting someone who cares for you know that I do too out of my mind.

So I went back, had another beer but I couldn't find the courage to talk to her, so I got even worse and made an absolute cunt out of myself.

Mom told me that Sundays are the hardest when dealing with grief and she's right.

Yesterday was a low point but I made it all so much worse.

I just wanted to put this out into the universe and I will deal with my own embarrassment and sadness.

I'm sorry to my friends who I feel are being pushed away.

I'm sorry to my baby girl as you don't deserve any drama.

I'm sorry to anyone who witnessed me at my lowest.

[malorikillman]

posted on January 9, 2023

location: Los Angeles, California

hair is down and naturally curly

*Malori is wearing a gold necklace that says “13”

1. pic from the side of Malori and Mikey on the football field after the game with confetti everywhere, Mikey lifts Malori up and holds her and hugs her tight, Malori has both legs wrapped around Mikey’s waist and both arms around his neck and hugs him tight, they both smile and cry

2. pic from the side of Malori and Mikey on the football field after the game with confetti everywhere, Mikey lifts Malori up and holds her, Malori has both legs wrapped around Mikey’s waist and both hands on his cheeks, they look at each other and smile

3. pic if Malori and Mikey standing on the football field after the game with confetti everywhere, Mikey stands behind Malori and has both arms around her from behind, Malori has both hands on Mikey’s arms, she has one toe pointed, they both smile

4. pic of Mikey standing on the stage on the field, he has on his championship hat, he holds the trophy in both hands and smiles

5. pic of Malori and Mikey standing a fancy hotel lobby after the game, Mikey has one arm around Malori’s back and the other at his side, Malori has one arm around Mikey’s back and the other on her leg, she has one leg slightly in front of the other, Mikey smiles, Malori smiles softly

MY BOY IS A NATIONAL CHAMPION!!! WOW my heart has never been more overwhelmed with gratitude. Mikey is the greatest human being that I know and there’s no one more deserving of this trophy than him and this team. This past year I’ve watched Mikey fight his way out of one of the lowest points of his life. I’ve watched God cure his depression. I’ve watched him choose to turn his hardships into motivation to get better. I’ve watched him work harder than ever to be a great quarterback. I’ve watched him choose Jesus over everything else. I’ve watched him grow so much as a son of The Most High King. Crazy how much God can change your life in a year if you let Him. Never in a million years did either of us believe that we’d be here right now sharing this sweet moment together. All of the crazy ups and downs have led us here and this win truly is proof that everything happens for a reason. God is always in control and He loves us all so much. His timing is always perfect even though we may not understand it. His love will overpower darkness every single time. Mikey, I love you more than anything and I couldn’t be more proud of you. You are so so so deserving of this. You’ve earned it. What a beautiful testimony I’ve been privileged to witness 🖤

@mikeykillman Malori I absolutely could not have done this without you! Getting to share this moment with you made it 10000x sweeter. Your love and support this past year have meant everything to me. I truly don’t deserve you but I’m so extremely grateful for the woman that you are. I’ll thank God for you forever and ever my love. I love you more than anything 🥹❤️

[cruelsummerhrry]

A/n: hello, in the words of taylor swift... are you ready for it?

Harry is extremely nervous to meet his daughter, Emmy's, teacher.

He was supposed to meet her before his kid started school, but his ex-fiancé wanted to take her. He didn't want to deal with that hell fire of the fight, when he was already stressed about Emmy leaving his sight for more than an hour or two.

But now, he gets to meet Ms. Y/L/N.

He is genuinely very excited. Almost everyday, he hears his daughter talk about this amazing woman in her life who is inspiring her to learn. He is also jumping out of his seat to see her interact with her friends and talk to some parents.

Holding Emmy's hand, standing beside the door, he takes a deep breath and finally walks in.

Turns out that breath was for nothing, cause he is in shock when he sees the teacher.

It's y/n, his client, the woman he saw having sex in a car. He doesn't move. He just stands there absolutely shocked.

"Ms. Y/L/N! Come meet my daddy!" The little girl by his side is suddenly running towards the person who got all of his attention.

"Emmy! I'm so happy you made it! Where is your parent?" Y/n was somewhat hoping it was her dad since she has yet to meet him.

Emmy points and now it's y/n's turn to be shocked. That's her very attractive personal trainer. Who also happened to witness her in a very promiscuous act. They make eye contact and their eyes are trying to communicate what to do.

Seems as y/n is going to pretend she has never met this man a day in her life.

"Hi! I'm Ms. Y/L/N, but most parents call me y/n." She is putting on her brightest smile and has her hand out for him to shake.

"I'm Harry, Emmy's dad." Taking her hand, he is very stunned by how professional she's being in this somewhat awkward situation. "She talks about you all of the time. It's a pleasure to meet the woman who got my daughter excited about reading." He reflects her face by replicating the same smile.

"That's so sweet!" Harry notices this new glimmer in her eyes, "Your daughter is truly a light in my classroom. An absolute Saint."

"I'm glad she isn't giving you any trouble." He looks for Emmy, who was once by his side, and sees her playing with some friends.

"Well, I'm sorry to cut this short but I have to say hello to some other parents. I would love to schedule a meeting with you and her mother one of these days! I will send out an email with some time slots and one of you can tell me which is best." He gives her a nod of acknowledgement, "it was lovely to finally meet you Harry!" They wave goodbye.

♡♡♡

He was sleeping in his bed. Not really but he was trying to! Harry just can't get y/n out of his head. He also can't get that pornographic scene he saw a week prior out of his head.

The more his mind wanders, the harder his cock gets, and the more restless he becomes. He is trying to ignore his throbbing erection,, but it's borderline impossible.

Harry gives up. He knows that his hand would feel nice but he wants something that will feel stronger. A vibrator.

He pulls the toy out of his nightstand drawer and groans at the sight.

He puts the vibe on the lowest setting and places it over his covered cock. The room becomes filled with meek whimpers.

Slowly, he changes the setting to something higher. Moving the toy to his tip that is constantly leaking his pre-cum. Harry takes his thumb and swipes it over his tip to collect the pre-cum. He puts the cum covered thumb to his mouth and wraps his lips around it to taste himself. His mouth waters at the taste, moaning around his thumb. 

He was on the verge of tears before he came. Moments before reaching his climax, he was squirming around his bed looking like a moaning mess. Thighs clenching, one hand keeping the vibe on his tip, and the other gripping onto the sheets as if his life depended on it, he came. Overwhelmed with the feeling, his vision gets blurry and his hearing goes out, only thing he was truly aware was the lack of y/n. Throughout his climax, he was moaning out your name, thinking of the way you would feel around his cock, but most importantly, how you would taste.

Harry is fucked.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed! Please like and REBLOG, reblogging really helps me and my blog out!!!! Lastly, if you have and suggestion or LITERALLY ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SAY pls send in an ask. Goodnight my blueberries

[mossy-rainfrog]

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Martin and Jon in season 1 of the Magnus Archives. Martin is seen out in the archives hallway, through the doorway to Jon’s office. Martin a fat Black man with short coily hair, round glasses, and snake bite lip piercings. He wears a blue sweater over a white collared shirt, and carries a brown satchel with him. Martin is looking over his shoulder with interest as he walks into work, and in a smaller panel to the side, we see Jon watching him with wide eyes. Jon is a thin Persian person with long greying hair tied back in a low bun, and rectangular glasses. He wears a red button down underneath a brown jacket, and is seated at the desk in his office. He stares out at Martin, looking flustered. There are small lines by Martin’s mouth indicating the piercings, and there are exclamation marks by Jon’s head indicating his reaction. End ID.]

I found an old fic in my notes about Martin dressing alt/punk outside of work and accidentally leaving on a small indicator of his usual fashion when he comes into the archives and I just. had to bring it back. Also, because I am still fond of it, please enjoy the aforementioned fic🥰:

Jon is having a difficult morning, to say the least. He had believed that coming into work an entire hour early would provide him with ample time to get a head start on today’s organizing, but that has decidedly not been case. He’s already had to take the statements of two utterly ridiculous liars who could barely keep the grins off of their faces as they recounted their ludicrous tale, and then listen to Elias subsequently dress down his so-called ‘attitude towards patrons’ for nearly half an hour, and suffice it to say, he would really like to get started on something that is actually worth his time.

He dislikes settling down with the more... difficult statements before all of his colleagues arrive, an attempt to keep them from interrupting his recordings to greet him, so once he’s finished his other menial tasks, he finds himself simply sitting and waiting for the ensemble of his assistants to arrive.

Tim and Sasha are the first - entering together as usual after having stopped for coffee on the way in - but Martin is slow to follow, taking nearly another fifteen minutes to arrive. It’s nearly ten past seven at that point, and once Jon hears Martin’s steps coming towards his office, he has half a mind to give the man yet another lecture on punctuality and work ethic. He gets as far enough as bracing his hands on the table to stand up, and then Martin appears in the doorway to his office, and he realizes something strikingly different about his appearance.

That is to say, Jon’s whole world narrows down very suddenly to the little black studs decorating the space underneath his bottom lip.

He’s staring, he knows he is, but Martin is busy looking down the hall for the moment, so Jon doesn’t force himself to tear his eyes away just yet. How long has he had his lip pierced, Jon wonders? Has it been there the whole time he’s known him? Has he only recently gotten it done? How? Why?

It’s hard to imagine Martin - soft, unassuming Martin who is far too large for the amount of space he crams himself into, always slouching, always pulling himself inwards as if he can make himself disappear - dressing in any way other than soft sweaters and slacks, but if Jon’s honest, he’s never actually seen the man outside of work. He has no idea how Martin chooses to dress himself when out from under the Institute’s rigid dress code, and this tiny window he’s been provided with is making him maddeningly curious.

He’s not... he doesn’t have feelings for Martin, aside from a general annoyance, occasionally marked with curiosity. He’s a professional, for God’s sake, not to mention that Martin’s very existence as a given is like a grain of sand in his eye, rubbing and irritating. Now he cuts clean through without even noticing. Jon itches to know more.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice tears him from his thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Oh, shit. Jon can feel his gaze heat up as if he’s done something horribly wrong - how embarrassing that he can’t even keep a blush off of his face - but he still forces himself to open his mouth and stutter out an excuse. He means to remark on one of Martin’s missing reports, or the fact that he’s coming in nine minutes late, but what ends up leaving his mouth is; “Your lip is pierced.”

Just a sentence, not a question. He thinks he’s positively beet red. Martin freezes, the tips of his ears darkening visibly against his brown skin as his hand shoots to his mouth and his eyes widen.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten to take them out,” the poor man looks like he’s about to panic as he whips his gaze around as if to see if anyone else has noticed. “Don’t tell Elias, please, I’ve seen how he gets after Tim for the dress code, and there is no way, I mean no way—”

“Oh, n-no, it’s- I- it’s fine, really,” Jon raises his hands in defense as Martin rambles, for some reason inclined to reassure the man. “I won’t- I’m not- I’m not going to tell him.”

Martin hesitates, wringing his hands, apologies visible on every pore of his face. “I- Thank you. I’ll- I’ll go take it off. Christ, that’s embarrassing.”

“Only if you want,” Jon shrugs, which is definitely not the correct thing for him to say as a boss, and it definitely comes out a little gentler than he intends it to, and Jon is three seconds from screaming if he can’t figure out how to make himself react normally to this. It’s a non-traditional piercing in an academic institute of research; it’s against the rules, however dated they may be, and further than that, there is no reason for it to completely undo his composure the way that it has. He tries to get a hold of himself. “I-I mean, that’s likely for the best.”

Martin is giving him a funny look - probably a response to seeing the whole spectrum of human emotions flash across Jon’s face in a millisecond - but he still nods and says: “Sorry again. Thank you,” and then disappears down the corridor.

Jon immediately buries his face in his hands and sighs.

What is wrong with him? For God’s sake, he’s just seen Martin with a lip piercing, it’s not like he’s witnessed the man undressed. Besides, he works in an archive where he has to read statements about the intricacies of monsters that rip off people’s skin and suchlike every day, he should know how to keep his composure better than this. He should just move on with his day and focus without a problem, just like he does every morning.

Except, his mind keeps wandering back to it; the way the little studs had followed the shape of his mouth, the way they had quirked up when he flashed one of his nervous smiles, the way Jon is still desperately curious about what brought him to get them done, and also what it might feel like to brush a thumb, or perhaps even his lips over them.

Jon sits up so fast his head actually smacks against an open filing cabinet behind him. His mind is too busy reeling to notice the ache that fills his head, and he stares straight ahead with wide eyes and utterly scorching cheeks. Absolutely not. He absolutely did not just think about kissing Martin Blackwood. that was- that would be...

He blinks hard, clears his throat. It doesn’t matter what that was. He’s decidedly not interested in Martin Blackwood romantically, or in any other capacity given his truly ridiculous academic competence and his obnoxious habit of interrupting seemingly every stable thing Jon has in his life. He crushes the feeling down hard, locks it up in a box, stuffs it down under his lowest two ribs, and resolves himself never to open it again.

He is not going to keep thinking about this all day. He has work to do, and if something as simple as a pair of metal studs can distract him this badly, then he needs to make absolutely certain it doesn’t happen again.

He tells himself he’s not disappointed when he sees Martin without the piercings later that day.

[bloodymoonxvampire]

🎵 ! 

SEND   IN   “ 🎵 “   FOR   A   SONG   /   SONGS   THAT   I   THINK   FITS   OUR   MUSES   &  AN   EXPLAINATION   AS   TO   WHY !

Did you hide yourself away? I can't see you anymore Did you eclipse another day? I used to wake up to the color of your soul Did you hide yourself away? Are you living through the ghost? Did you finally find a place above the shadows So the world will never know... The world will never know you like I do

YOU ALL KNOW I’VE BEEN STRAINING AT MY LEASH TO GO OFF ABOUT THIS SONG.  I’ve posted it more than once.  insert image of me foaming from the mouth or whatever

But I wish I could feel it all for you I wish I could be it all for you If I could erase the pain Then maybe you'd feel the same I'd do it all for you I would, I would, I would, I would

Both of these songs deal with the frustration of loving someone who is closed off and resistant to healing, with the second one referring specifically to an emotionally distant online relationship.  What’s particularly notable to me about Koga and Rei’s relationship is that Koga, initially, was just trying to catch the eye of someone he idolized.  A faraway hero figure, really.  This wasn’t a friend or anyone with any connection to him.  However, his... persistence? got him a front row seat to witness arguably some of the lowest points in Rei’s life-- and that’s about it.

And I want to be clear, he had no real reason to stick around once that illusion of grandiosity was shattered.  Once Rei started to lose steam and push everyone away, he only went further and further downhill from there.  There was absolutely no payoff for Koga.  The unit they had together ended up disbanded after remarkably little activity, and Rei was never around.  Most people would take hints from this-- whether true or not-- that this person, who again is not even a friend, does not want them around and is not going to warm up to them.  Some might recognize that this is a person who needs help, but plenty of them would also realize that they are not going to be able to be that help.

And maybe Koga did come to those conclusions.  It hardly matters.  Somewhere along the way, it stopped being an issue of “fixing,” at least entirely.  What we know of emotional damage is it cannot be fixed.  What comes out on the other side is not a repaired version of what went into turmoil in the first place.  For every time Koga might have mentioned how Rei “used” to be, there might have been three others where he went out of his way to navigate the man in front of him now, instead.  Where he learned and adapted to new truths that, again, he never had any real reason to in the first place if it were just about the idolization.

This is what their history dictates-- who they were brought them to where they are.  Somewhere along the way, the definition of the love Koga felt for Rei shifted.  It wasn’t about fixing, it wasn’t about putting a man on a pedestal who no longer existed.  Undeniably, despite everything, they did grow to be very, very close.  And really, there’s no one in the world who knows Rei quite like Koga does, having seen him personally at his worst and best, as an unwelcome stranger and as a close friend.  Their bond is unique, and it really does stem from Koga’s refusal to give up on a boy who, for all intents and purposes, wanted nothing to do with him.  It’s tragic, and it must have been so frustrating for someone so young to endure, but I can’t help but admire him for it.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Stages of Grief

Detailed accounts of how the Genshin Boys deal with a break up... (masterlist)

Childe and Silent Acceptance

It depends on who initiated the breakup and if the reason behind it was actually valid in his eyes. He's not going to stop or be stubborn if it was the right way to go, he won't reach for your hand as you walk away, instead he'll stare at the ground until he can finally move himself.

Childe in all of his life after the Abyss struggled with his emotions more than any other normal human being. The essence of relationships was something he struggled to conform to until he met you, and then you left.

For a long time, his grip on his bow and arrow would tremble a lot to the point that he barely hits his target. Bows require precision yet everytime he grips, it just won't stop shivering. Hence his fights would mostly consist with his Hydro blades packed with the mightiest force he can bring in his frustration.

He will cry to the God of Love about it once in a state of absolute vulnerability, but the Tsaritsa would stay silent yet consoling. In the end of that quiet encounter Childe would have his resolve changed and his heart more hardened,

"The Fatui isn't made to love, but to conquer."

Zhongli's Desperate Bargaining

What does it mean to break up? To have space? To remove yourself from love? To be able to? These questions invade his mind every second after the break up, as Zhongli is but a man of logic, of black and white methodology. Is it really possible to leave from a contract of love? Is this a violation?

He will ask for reconciliation, for a talk to see what he has done wrong as well as a fortification of an actual contract between you two. It was horrible in your eyes, but it was something akin to him to do so. In the end there was no salvation in the wet ink that lays in front of him.

He will wander a lot with his thoughts, missing most of the time from work and observing humans in their natural habitat. He was still confused of the ordeal and will continue his ministrations of trying to understand what had gone wrong when he was sure he did things correctly to the dot.

He might try and sway you back but it's all a lost cause already. Zhongli might be intrusive, but if his advances make you uncomfortable, he will respectfully stand back and disappear once and for all.

You know for sure that he will think back to the times when he was still with Guizhong, with his fellow archons, with everyone. And he weeps at another loss, at another failure of himself,

"Guizhong, even now I still cannot understand them."

Anger in Albedo's Teal Eyes

Humans and their many facets concerning different types of relationships had always been a pure mystery to him. And with how he finally managed to grasp one that seemed everlasting was an accomplishment he boasts so nonchalantly. Where did it go wrong?

He questions you in every aspect that contains one, interviewing with a commanding tone as the coldness he brings to others now comes to you and it held with it a piercing glare, packed with a tightness to his crossed arms. He was filled with disappointment for many things, and that includes you and him. Once you are gone, he locks himself back to his work.

Where did he go wrong? His focus on his research for the meaning of life changes to that not written in paper but canvassed in his mind, his vials of chemicals no longer produce the results he wanted, and his frustration grows. At one point, Sucrose was witness to one of his only breakdowns. Which procured a lot of broken glass.

He was a disappointment, a disgrace, not just to himself but to his master he has no clue where. Abandoned to be the greatest, abandoned to his lowest. If Master Rhinedottir was there, would she still call him a genius?

Many nights would be restless to Albedo and most of the time he ventures far and beyond what Mondstadtians can see. He can't keep himself cooped up in a world that reminds him of you, and so he leaves, together with his frustration,

"The meaning of life won't come anytime soon."

Xiao's Mask of Depression

Without the aid of the distant flute to constantly grapple with the demons within him, he has found solace in the comfort of you. But it came to an end faster than he expected, it ended when he thought it would never. And you were gone before you knew exactly what you did. You left an after image of yourself in every part of his life and it became the hardest thing to work around.

The Almond Tofu in his mouth carry no more sweetness and the softness that reminded him of dreams turned into pitiful nightmares of a reality taken away from him. Goldett stopped serving after the third plate rotted in the balcony.

The Inn was no home to him anymore, Xiao had seen too much of your past visages, hallucinations to even begin to comprehend what is real or not. He disappears to wherever and only comes by when there's a major need to do so.

Verr sees it in him and on him. Xiao's battles became more drastic and obsessive, and a lot of times he ventures back dripping with blood that she knows isn't his, but some of those may not. He stands with a downtrodden gaze without a care for the mess that he is.

The voices in his head changed their assault from manifesting rage to hitting at his most vulnerable core: the loss of you. The very thing that kept him together and he did something wrong to make you leave, something even he himself does not know. And they were getting louder and louder—

"The Liyue Qixing can handle the new world, maybe now is the best time... to properly retire."

Make the fifth one!

My brain went into Denial cuz I lost the prompts in my head for a fifth lmao- New Xiao banner yay :)

(Zhongli preparing Xiao's funeral hehe-)

@kookieyachi @sk1nnyangelic @bunniesrorange @albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre

[ouyangzizhensdad]

Perhaps you'd like a an ask that's not discourse related? If so, then I wanted to ask you if you know what jin zixuan thought of jin guangyao?

Hi anon,

I appreciate your non-discourse-related ask 😉. Your question made me realise that the novel seems to explicitly avoid giving us any real sense of what Jin Zixuan thought of Jin Guangyao, or how he reacted to the ways other people treated JGY. It seems that JZX remained unaware at the time that Meng Yao came on his birthday--and literally got kicked out. At Phoenix Mountain, JZX stops being mentioned after JGY appears and while his mother mistreats him--he’s only brought back into the narration at the very end to scream at JYL. JZX is also absent the night that WWX goes to Jinlintai to confront the Jins about Qiongqi path and in the direct aftermath. But let’s dig for crumbs and make sense of gaps, and let’s see what we can infer from them.

We know that, originally, Jin Zixuan was the epitome of the proud Jin: “The ways of the Jin Sect were proud, and Jin Zixuan inherited every single drop of this. With his high standards, he had been unsatisfied with this engagement since a long time ago.“ We could wonder if the circumstances of JGY’s birth would have been something JZX would have judged him for. We know that he took offense to WWX’s persona, although it is not spelled out exactly what offended him specifically: “Because of this engagement, Jin Zixuan had no positive impressions of the YunmengJiang Sect, and had frowned upon Wei Wuxian’s behavior since some time ago.“ However, it’s unclear whether the circumstances of WWX’s birth influenced how he perceived his behaviour. All we know for sure is that two other Jin family members--his father and Jin Zixun--never forgot about it and brought it up. We also know that in the past, JZX felt comfortable ignoring people’s good will towards him if he felt he was motivated in his view of them, as he did with JYL in the past:

Jin-furen had brought him to Lotus Pier a couple of times. Neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng liked to play with him; only Jiang Yanli wanted to feed him the food that she made. Jin Zixuan, however, didn’t really like to pay her any attention.

At the same time, we do know that JZX had a sense of righteousness, what with him standing up against Wen Chao at Dusk-Creek Mountain. Likewise, we see with the soup incident that at least when it comes to a low-level cultivator who is a servant, a good deed done towards him without trying to gain his gratitude is enough to earn his respect, and for JZX to take action to raise the standing of that person:

Cleverly, the woman never acknowledged anything, but instead denied it ambiguously, her cheeks flushed, making it sound as though she was the one who did it, but didn’t want Jin Zixuan to know how much trouble she went through. And thus, Jin Zixuan didn’t force her to admit it any longer. However, in action, he had began to respect the cultivator. He began to pay attention to her, even raising her from a servant to a guest cultivator.

JZX even tells JYL: “Don’t think that just because you come from a powerful sect that you can steal and trample other people’s feelings. Some people, even if they come from poor backgrounds, their character are much better than the former’s. Please watch your conduct.” This underlines that, regardless of his upbringing, and perhaps even views that he might have held at some point in his life, at this point JZX seemed to want to judge others based on their character rather than their background. Of course, we can wonder if that reserve of good will would have extended to his half-brother, especially one that could try to take his place as the heir. However, considering the circumstances, from JGY’s birth to JGS’s decision to give him a name that did not align him with the same generation as JZX, we can wonder if anyone ever perceived then JGY as someone who could potentially become the next sect leader, as seen in this exchange between WWX and JC:

Jiang Cheng smirked, “Don’t carry your sword, then. It doesn’t matter. But don’t provoke Jin Zixuan from now on. He’s Jin Guangshan’s only son, after all. The future leader of the LanlingJin Sect will be him. If you beat him up, what should I, the sect leader, do? Beat him up with you? Or punish you?”

Wei Wuxian, “Isn’t Jin Guangyao here now? Jin Guangyao seems so much better than him.”

Jiang Cheng finished wiping his sword. After he scrutinized it for a while, he finally put Sandu back into its sheath, “So what, if he’s better? No matter how much better he is, no matter how clever, he could only be a servant who greets the guests. That’s all there is to his life. He can’t compare with Jin Zixuan.”

At Phoenix Mountain, while we do not see JZX say anything out of line to JGY, he is present while his mother and Jin Zixun disrespect him: and we get no reaction written for him while that takes place--he’s mostly licking his wounded pride. We also know that this disrespect by his family towards JGY was the norm, so we have to assume that JZX would have been a witness to it in other situations. In the context of that specific scene, it’s difficult to to infer something concrete from that silence: is it agreement? complicity? a certain indifference to JGY’s situation? an unwillingness of rock the boat or to seem to publicly challenge his mother? or simply him just being too self-absorbed by his romantic woes?

The next scene that would have made for an interesting case study is the night WWX comes to confront the Jins about the camp at Qiongqi Path. However, JZX is absent that night. Conveniently, or as a means to maintain a sense of ambiguity between him and WWX, we thereby do not know how JZX feels about what happened. He is also absent during the aftermath:  “At midnight, in the Golden Pavilion on JinlinTai sat over fifty sect leaders from sects of all sizes. Jin Guangshan sat in the foremost seat. Jin Zixuan was away [...].” (interesting that CQL added JZX to that scene). Which means he is not there to react to the mistreatment of JGY by others or to react to the way JGY is clearly lying for the purposes of manipulating the general opinion on WWX and save the Jin’s reputation.

We also do not get to witness the conversation that leads JZX to come to Qiongqi Path to try to stop Jin Zixun. All we get is a sentence of dialogue from JZX explaining that he thought JGY looked strange which prompted JZX tp questioned him questions (we of course know that JGY was purposefully acting that way to get JZX to go to Qionqqi Path, so it’s hard to take that as a sign of clear familiarity between them that would have allowed JZX to read hidden emotions from him). Did JZX ask out of specific concern for or suspicions of JGY? We don’t know! It is interesting to note though that, in this scene, Jin Zixun refers to JGY as “A-Yao”, which the narration contextualises by telling us that Jin Zixun started calling him in a more intimate manner despite the original contemps he had held for him. However, when JZX mentions JGY to Jin Zixun, he calls him “Jin Guangyao” (for reference, Jin Zixun calls JZX “Zixuan”).

All in all, we get very little from looking at JZX. However, there is something to be said in the absence of any specific grievances expressed by JGY towards him in terms of framing how JZX may have acted towards him when they were both at Jinlintai. Indeed, when Jin Ling asks JGY why he arranged for his father to go to Qiongqi path, meeting his death, JGY mentions the unfairness of the situation of both sons, but never brings up anything JZX did specifically to him. And we know that JGY has a great memory which allows him to hold grudges.

Suddenly, Jin Ling screamed, “Why?!” He stood up from beside Jiang Cheng. Eyes red, he rushed toward Jin Guangyao as he shouted, “Why did you have to do this?!”

Nie Huaisang hurried to pull back Jin Ling, who seemed as though he wanted to fight with Jin Guangyao. Jin Guangyao returned the question, “Why?” He turned to Jin Ling, “A-Ling, then could you tell me why? Why is it that even if I face everyone with a smile, I might not even receive the lowest form of respect, while even though your father was extremely arrogant, people flocked to him? Could you tell me why we were born from the same person but your father could relax at home with the love of his life playing with his child, while I never even dared be alone for long with my wife, shivering out of fright at first glance of my son? And I was ordered to do such a thing by my father as if it was natural—to kill an extremely dangerous figure who could flip out and conjure up a bloody massacre with his corpses anytime!

“Why is it that even though we were born on the same day, Jin Guangshan could host a grand banquet for one son, and watch with his own eyes how his subordinate kicked his other son down Jinlintai, from the first stair to the last!”

He finally revealed the hatred hidden deep within him. It wasn’t directed at neither Jin Zixuan nor Wei Wuxian, but rather his own father.

As a result, we might infer that, at the very least, JZX never directly acted towards JGY in a way that reflected how JGS or Jin Zixun (at some point) treated him. At the same time, it’s difficult to suggest that he stood up for him when other people disrespected him, and we know that JZX’s mother disrespected JGY in lieu of directing her anger toward the real culprit, her awful husband. Little seems to suggest that they grew intimate after JGY came to Jinlintai. It’s really hard to divine, as a result, what JZX might have thought of JGY.

The most interesting thing to take away from this is that it seems absolutely deliberate on MXTX’s part to show us as little as possible in terms of interactions between JZX and JGY. We can speculate as to why that is: to separate JZX from the machinations of this sect? to avoid giving us more ammunition to guess that JGY was behind JZX’s death? to ensure that WWX remains ambiguous towards JZX? or just as a means to avoid having to figure out how to work this dynamic into already complicated scenes and character relationships? etc.