#cyril vega

[bookishjules]

anyway hands up if you're gunnin for a cyril redemption arc from asshat jock to doting boyfriend taking care of lydia and her baby while she's kicking ass and taking names

[murasaki-cha]

Alistair: So… we’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Ruby recently.

James: No, guys, it's not what it looks like, I swear

Wren: Oh really? So no reason for us to be jealous?

James: No! you’re the only ones for me.

Cyril: Is that so?

James: I promise! Ruby and I are just dating, okay?

Keshav: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved?

James: You are still my one and only best friends! She’s just the love of my life, that’s it!

Wren: But we're still the platonic loves of your life, right?

James: Of course bros!

Alistair, Wren, Cyril, Keshav all the the same time: Bro…

Ruby: What the-

Lydia: Don't. Just don't.

[cherrycourage]

In A Secret Place

Ch 5 - What do you want?

Changing my focus to the bedroom decorations, I pick up one of the marble lions on display. “Ruby would hate all of this,” I say gesturing towards everything in the room. “It’s all too much, the butlers, a private chef - staff always waiting to fulfil all of our needs.” Lydia frowns, knowing that I’m purposely ignoring my problems.  “I agree, it’s all extremely ridiculous. She hates it just as much as we do.” There’s a tinge of annoyance in her voice but I ignore it.  “I never noticed how much I hated all of it, until I met Ruby,” I reply, sitting on the bed again. “She really did change all of our lives..” Lydia looks down at her books and smiles faintly. Ruby has been a great friend to both of us. 

Read more on A03 here!

Chapters: 5/7

Total Word Count: 19,171

[aphrmoosun]

So I wanted to speak about it. I am in summer holidays and I'm watching shows I couldn't before. I have watched The Decameron and after it I want to watch first Maxton hall and the My Lady Jane or the other way. But I wanted to watch then but OOH again Prime Video cancelling its shows because they don't think it makes good ciphers... I haven't watched My Lady Jane yet but they already cancelled it... It isn't the first time they do it. I want to watch a show and they say NO WE ARE NOT DOING MORE OF IT. I will watch My Lady Jane but I am going to watch first Maxton Hall because they are taking good things from people and I have to support the active shows first AND I want to watch it to watch some sequels if it has one in the future.

They expect too much from the shows made for women. It is romance, it is a period show, it is a woman protagonist then all the brid****** watchers must come to watch this show too... and it does not work like this. I hate these platforms, I hate that they put ads when I'M PAYING it and I hate that they don't stop increasing the payment, I hate that they cancel the shows before I ever have time to watch it. They really suck.

[ethereal-daydreamerr]

Hi there ✨

I have a little something for those like me who are still not over Maxton Hall (and James Beaufort).

[yapenka]

I’ve just finished reading “Maxton Hall” and why no one talking about Lin??? She’s like one of the most wisdom, clever and kind person in this books (not Ruby, I’m sorry). And what about her and Cyril??? Their story just ISN’T over! What about their future? They just talked, broke up after 2 years of relationship and it’s all? Their feelings just disappeared? Are you kidding? I want more LIN

[blackramhall]

There's no point in trying not to fall. You always fall. But the trick is you get up, you dust yourself off, and make sure you don't become dust.

Gates of Heaven Only Murders in the Building | S04E02 created by Steve Martin and John Hoffman

Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. WS, Ha Avatar pic by Mitchell Turek

[boardchairman-blog]

**Shots of the Episode**

Only Murders in the Building (2021)

Season 4, Episode 4: “The Stunt Man” (2024) Director: Chris Koch Cinematographer: Kyle Wullschleger

[gameofthunder66]

Only Murders in the Building (2021- ) tv series

-(finished) watchin' Season 4- 11/6/2024- 3 stars- on Hulu

96% Rotten Tomatoes- Season 4

[flower-radio]

you’ve got sins enough to know it’s a sin to tell a lie

[stuff-diary]

Only Murders in the Building (Season 4)

TV Shows/Dramas watched in 2024

Only Murders in the Building (Season 4, 2024, USA)

Creators: Steve Martin & John Hoffman

Mini-review:

The most lovable crime-solving trio is back for another round, and they deliver as expected. At this point, four seasons in, the concept of the show should start to feel overdone, but the writers went very meta and actually played around with that repetitiveness. I must admit the mystery itself was probably the least interesting yet, at least for me, but everything else about the season is more than fun enough. I especially enjoyed the episode shot in found-footage style and the one set in Long Island, cause it proves the show is still more than willing to experiment. While the third season remains my favorite for now, it's pretty obvious that Only Murders in the Building has enough fuel to run for as long as it wants.

[murasaki-cha]

Cyril: Hey Alistair can I get a sip of your water?

Alistair: It's not water.

Cyril: Vodka, I like your style!

Alistair: It's vinegar.

Cyril: Wh-Wha-

Alistair: It's vinegar, COWARD.

[cherrycourage]

In A Secret Place

What if James and Ruby decided to keep their relationship a secret?

Canon divergence following episode 4 of Maxton Hall — The World Between Us

I imagine Ruby is relieved to have her invisibility back without worrying that people are watching her every move. I remember the look she had on her face when she realized everyone was watching her when we walked into school together. Although she grew more comfortable with it over time, I still sensed her nervousness.  There are many positives to keeping our relationship private, for example, I get to witness Ruby from a whole new perspective. Ruby always believed she was invisible but from what I’ve gathered in recent weeks that’s far from true.  Before I knew her she may have been invisible to me, to all the rich assholes like me, but not to everyone else. She may not be best friends with everyone at Maxton Hall but she is the go-to person for everything. Being the top student in all of her classes means everyone seeks her help with homework or proofreading essays.  I noticed some of this during my time on the events committee but never to this extent. Everyone she helps always walks away smiling. It doesn’t matter how busy she is, she’s always willing to help others. Seeing the way she lights up talking to people, makes my heart flutter. It is admirable how much people adore her. How was I so blind to the light she radiated throughout Maxton Hall? She is like an angel, I see no flaws in her. 

Read more on A03 here!

Chapters: 4/6

Word Count: 14,404

[scare-ard--sleigh]

i need a prayer candle for a figure that works really hard, that i can light when i need to focus and work really hard (i think this personality would naturally balance out the more chaotic energies of the 3 i have--eliot waugh, revenge gerard, and sterling archer) but i have no idea who it should be

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Men at Work!

Just a note, I know I mix phonetic and Cyrillic spellings of Russian in this. Mostly it's so that people can easily translate the more complex words directly.

Content: Masturbation, very mild protective/possessive behavior

It’s becoming a problem.

You think this from the overstuffed daybed recently purchased for the explicit purpose of feeding into aforementioned problem. Not that the porch is the problem, heavens no. If so much as a nail came loose, there’s a trio of men across the street all too eager to lend their hammers and bulging, glistening muscles to fix it.

Which, conveniently, is the problem.

Their muscles, that is. And how magnanimous they are with them.

Your house is nice. New. It took them three days to fix all the issues you’d been putting off for a day you were non-reclusive enough to schedule a handyman.

Your house is too nice and too new.

You’re feeding a Vegas buffet’s worth of appetites raised on old world sensibilities with no outlet for them to be expressed. There aren’t enough squeaky hinges, crooked cabinets, stuck windows, or leaky faucets in your two-bedroom for all that… chivalry. (Or whatever Krueger has that passes for chivalry’s surly cousin.)

They’ve taken to invading earlier in the evening for busy work before dinner. Cutting vegetables, tenderizing meat, cleaning dishes, setting the goddamn table.

Like, sirs, you’re a single woman with three cats and a sham of a personal life – the last time you saw a centerpiece on a domestic dining table was Christmas at your nana’s.

Until Konig shuffled in with a fistful of sunflowers and zinnias, promising that he double-checked that they’re non-toxic to cats. You didn’t have a vase, so you had to make do with an empty mason jar you were keeping for ostensible aesthetic reasons.

Now you’ve got an ongoing bouquet, kitschy salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like lemons that no one ever uses (as if your seasoning decisions are as good as god) and are contemplating cloth napkins like some kind of… of…

“Socialite?” you muse aloud. You glance at Rasputin. He blinks slowly. “Hostess? Woman of the night?”

You’re pretty sure Agatha didn’t mean that as a compliment when you overheard her gossiping to Margot yesterday. (She should really remember that if she can eavesdrop on you from her backyard, the same is true the other way around.)

You’re toying with an idea for a new series with your last one wrapping up and your solo-novel due for release come fall. Something about a rich young woman with a wild streak and her fantastically wealthy gentlemen callers…

“Scarlet woman,” you murmur aloud, eyes on the reason for your recent porch décor purchase.

Krueger is on the roof, cloth around his head to stave off the summer heat. Doing… something with shingles and a nail gun. Your face flushes with each flex of hard muscle, jump of thick tendons. The grip he has on that thing…

As inspiring as your neighbors are, they are also a huge (in many, many ways) distraction. Hence, they are a Problem.

And not just for you. On your right, you catch the flutter of curtains from your peripheral. Lisa taking another peek – to be properly scandalized, probably. (You’re not really sure what the neighborhood biddies tell themselves when they decide something is Simply Not Proper.)

“We’ll have to start charging admission,” you muse, sipping a strawberry mojito.

Curled up far too close for the weather, Little Guy chuffs and stretches. You smooth a fingertip up his little nose, between his eyes, and over the crest of his empty head.

“Jezebel,” you mumble. He yawns, tongue curling and pearly fangs gleaming. “Trollop.”

An annoyed grunt pulls your eyes forward again. Nikto is standing halfway up the porch, one foot planted on the last step like a sexy Russian Captain Morgan. His thighs stretch his workpants oh-so-nicely. There’s a smear of white paste across the material – caulking, maybe?

(You could do with a caulking too.)

“Has someone called you these?” he asks. “Who?”

You laugh. What would he even do if someone had?

“No – well, not to my face, anyway.”

He snorts, shoots a withering scowl at Agatha’s property anyway. You spin your pen around your fingers and try not to bite your lip at the way his shirt is clinging from sweat.

“Aren’t you hot?” you fuss. “You’re going to pass out.”

“Nyet, we have been in worse,” he replies, finishing the short journey up the porch. He pauses in front of you, taking in the sight of you and your cats. What does he think, seeing you lounging about all day while he and his friends(?) are working so hard? If it’s something negative, he’s never let on.

“Still,” you insist, “have you been hydrating?”

“Da, the water runs.”

You blink, put together pieces to assume he and the others are chugging tap water (probably right from the faucet) when necessary. Well, that just won’t do now, will it?

“No, no. Hold on. Rasputin, hold him hostage.”

And like the little angel he is, Ras gets up, stretches out, and begins rubbing his face all over Nikto’s pants. With him distracted, you hop to your feet and scurry inside. The house is almost uncomfortably cool after most of your morning spent outside, but you’ll only be a moment.

There’s a large ruby pitcher waiting in the fridge from last night, complete with various berries floating at the top. You use two hands to heft it out, set it on the counter, then flit to your cabinets for the travel cups you invested in for on-the-go wine sipping. Nice and insulated.

You pour a cup for each of them, stow the pitcher away again, and carry all three in triangle-formation back outside. (Maybe you should get a tray? The antique store in town probably has something pretty and lemon-themed to match the salt and pepper shakers…)

Nikto hurries to help as soon as he sees you, plucking the extra cup from your hands.

“I saw this recipe and wanted to try it since it’s been getting hotter.”

He blinks at you, then the juice.

“You don’t have to try it now, I just thought—”

Your voice abandons you as Nikto tugs his filtration mask down. The skin beneath is warped and scarred, discolored in some places. When he raises the edge of the cup to his mouth, the skin of one cheek stretches distressingly thin. You can see the individual indents of his back molars pressing against the flesh as he drinks.

You understand why he’s been hesitant to show you; it’s not easy to look at. Which makes you all the more determined to flick your eyes back to his and ask, eagerly, “What do you think? Too sweet?”

As he swallows, throat clicking, you think you hear him grunt something.

“Hm?”

“Nyet. Not too sweet. Is good, пчела.”

You grin even though you’re not sure what it means. All three of them have some nickname in their mother tongue that you can only hope is complimentary and not because they forgot your actual name.

“Good, then I can bring some to K and K while you help me with lunch. That’s why you came by, right?”

He nods. “Nearly noon.”

“That late already!” you say. Wow, staring at hot, sweaty men really makes time fly. “Alright, I was going to make chicken wraps and latkes. Could you start peeling potatoes? You know where everything is, da?”

“Da.” He clicks his tongue, luring Rasputin in and stirring Guy awake. “Come, малышу, before we leave you out here for vultures.”

“Nikto!” you scold. “Don’t threaten him.”

“I do not threaten. It is what will happen.”

You swat at his arm, but at least Little Guy has been lured into Nikto’s reach – if by nothing else than a hand has been offered and cats are helpless to resist a good sniff. Nikto scoops him up while you turn to flounce down the stairs.

“Make sure Susan doesn’t get out!” you call over your shoulder.

She was roused by your quick turnaround to get the juice cups and will certainly be stalking the door now.

Sure enough, you faintly hear him cursing in Russian as you reach the end of the yard. Luckily, you see him closing the door with all three of your demons inside, so you continue across the street.

Krueger hasn’t noticed your approach, his back to you, so you stop at the edge of the property to watch for a moment. Yep, just as good this close, too.

“Krueger!” you call. He doesn’t turn. You huff and try again. Nothing. Christ, you’re starting to think he’s ignoring you on purpose. “Sebastian!”

His head whips around alarmingly fast and finds you right there on the ground. No need to look around at all – sometimes they remind you of their profession in the oddest ways.

“Ja, ja, no need to shout,” he replies.

You open your mouth to do just that, but he’s already scaling down from the roof. You’re stunned into silence as he slides down to the edge of the roof, catches the edge, and swings down to the ground. Lands with barely more noise than one of your footsteps. It’s quick yet so graceful.

You stare (gawk, more accurately) as he saunters up, pants sinfully low on his narrow hips.

“What did you need, bienchen?” he asks. “It is too early for lunch.”

You stutter for a second before your brain reboots.

“What was that?!” you demand, a little shriller than necessary. If you don’t shriek about this, you’re going to shriek about that gorgeous chest and the tattoos and the everything else, and you absolutely cannot do that. “That was so dangerous! You’re going to break a leg!”

“You worry,” he scoffs. He shakes his head, but there’s a wicked, knowing grin at the corners of his mouth and his eyes are far too bright. “That was a little jump.”

“It was not!”

“It only seemed big because you are so little, but it was nothing for me.”

“You’re not that much taller!”

“It is sweet to worry,” he coos, “but it is too hot for it, yes?”

You scrunch your nose at him, not sure if you’re annoyed or turned on or both. (Probably both. It’s annoying how hot he is. And how hot he knows he is.)

“If it’s so hot, then here.”

You all but shove the cup at him. He takes it with a flicker of genuine surprise, sniffs at the liquid, then takes a sip. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest, raises the temperature another few degrees.

“My mother used to make something like this,” he muses, expression softening. You blink, lean in automatically for a peck to your cheek. “Danke schön.”

“Bitte,” you mumble, mouth drier than Reggie’s garden.

His eyes crinkle, mouth hidden by the edge of the cup as he proceeds to chug the rest of it. A droplet slips down his jaw and skips down to his collarbone. You force your eyes away before you’re driven to do something irreparable by thirst.

“Is Konig inside?” you ask. “I have a cup for him, too.”

He grunts confirmation, tongue curling around a blueberry to coax it into his mouth.

Yep, alright, that’s about as much as you can take.

“Scooch, before the punch goes warm.”

“Punch?” he repeats, arching an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what it’s called in English. Punch.”

“That seems like it would cause misunderstanding.” Except he’s grinning as he says it, like he cherishes the idea of someone confusing the two words and starting a fight. Considering how often you catch him and Konig smacking at each other, that’s probably not a stretch.

“Just please don’t swing on anyone, yeah?”

“Only because you ask so nicely,” he croons.

You click your tongue at him. “Wipe off before going in, I don’t want Shithead to stink after crawling on you.”

He barks out his usual sharp laugh and tugs the cloth – his own t-shirt – off his head to mop up his sweat. You make a mental note to tease him about sunburn later as you slip past him.

You can hear Konig singing off-key upstairs when you open the door. The house is sweltering, only mildly cooler than outside with none of the fresh air. You grimace as you pause at the bottom of the stairs; the boys have warned you that it’s dangerous up there and it’s best not to go wandering.

Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he’s using power tools at the moment.

“Konig!” you call.

“Is that you, biene?” he calls back.

You grin. “Who else would it be, huh?”

You hear his footsteps right over your head, track his gait until the first heavy boot on the stairs. He meets you at the bottom with his usual ventilator on, but he tugs it down when he sees the cup in your hand.

“Is this for me?” he asks eagerly.

“Yep! Tell me what you think!”

With none of Nikto or Kreuger’s hesitation, he knocks back a big mouthful. Licks his full lips as he lowers it, eyes bright as they land on yours.

“This is perfect,” he chirps, “so refreshing! Thank you, biene!”

You beam right back, flushed with pride that all three of them liked the recipe you “happened to find” when you saw the temperature projections for today.

“There’s more back home,” you offer, “come out of the heat.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “I will wipe off first.”

You hum agreeably, watching him slip back upstairs with great enthusiasm. Konig in a tank top and those tight cargos… summer really is delivering this year.

That evening, you sigh as you recline across your huge bed, naked and cooling off with the night breeze rolling through your window. Ras and Shithead are happily distracted wrestling each other in your forgotten towel, and Little Guy is snoozing on his personal pillow.

You stretch out, feeling a bit decadent and indulgent with moonlight spilling over your body, and let your hands wander. It’s not the high-efficiency sleep-oriented wank you usually rush through, not this time.

You unspool memories of the day with each brush of your fingertips over moisturized skin. You hum as your skin tingles, imagining Konig’s calloused palms in place of yours. He’d be so surprisingly gentle, you’re sure. Big, strong hands but he’d play with you like a precious toy. Plucking your nipples and scratching his blunt nails over the plush of your hips.

As your breathing picks up, you see Krueger’s broad shoulders flexing behind your eyelids. Imagine them bullying between your thighs, hooking your knees over. That bright glint in his eye as he smirks against your cunt. Can practically feel the curl of his tongue around your clit, eating you out messy and mean.

You’re already halfway there when you curl two fingers into your pussy. You’re so wet that your fingers slip and slide, squelch lewdly as you rock your hips, trying to find just the right angle.

You imagine Nikto clicking his tongue at your struggle. Almost hear his low, hoarse voice chiding you for doing his job while he takes over. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, you have to press a third in just to maintain the fantasy.

You want to lean back against his broad chest while he strokes your walls, listen to him and Krueger and Konig talk about you like you’re not even there, debating if you should come. Ignore you as you beg and whimper, big hands pinning you down while they draw it out.

Please, please, please…

You clap a hand over your mouth just in time, hips jerking so hard that it makes your wrist ache.

Whoops.

Well, you doubt anyone heard. It’s pretty late, and you’re on the second story anyway.

Already sleepy, you’re too lazy to close the window after a pre-bed stop in the restroom. It’s such a nice night, after all.

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[capitalisticveins]

yknow what this comment is justified good job Luna

Here's a sneak peak for tomorrow! This thumbnail feels like an attack against me lmao