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[thewayfarersinn]

happy valentine's 😘

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? Chapter Two

Hello, beautiful people! Chapter two’s here!

Now, to be honest, I’ve been getting in my head about this one. The first chapter got so many compliments on its slow building suspense, and this chapter is more of a meandering slice of life/case fic, so I’m not gonna lie, slightly worried it won’t go down as well. So if you enjoy it, please do come tell me and put my mind at ease! It didn’t come together easy and I have been staring at it for WAY too long - but this week I’ve been self-isolating with covid so uh. A lot of writing time opened up.

WARNINGS: Annnngst. Death, loneliness, abandonment, touch starvation, sensory deprivation, along with morbid things like burials and bodies and bones are core themes of this fic. The ending will be happy eventually but we WILL have a sad ride to get there. So please be aware of that before reading.

Thank you everyone who read/commented on chapter one, hope you enjoy this instalment! Also thank you to justafandomfollower on tumblr who offered to beta this when I was getting paranoid - I ultimately did not take you up on the offer bc by the time I felt like this was ready to have other eyes on it I just wanted to post it and get it over with but I appreciate you!!! It was such a kind offer, unfortunately I physically can not edit this thing any more than I have or I will truly go insane 💛

Chapter two is 9.7k. Chapters 3/4 coming soon (hopefully). Also on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read)

~

"So. I kinda feel like I'm gonna wish I hadn't asked," said Crystal, arms crossed and feet shuffling. "But... screw it. What's in the box?"

Charles visibly winced. He stepped into the room behind the trunk he was helping to manoeuvre through the mirror, and staggered on entry. Distracted, no doubt, by the effort of searching for a way to answer her query without causing distress. "It's, uh. Well. It's..."

Edwin, having no such compunctions about stating the facts, set down his end of the trunk with haste. "Me," he said, putting a good arm's length between himself and the awful thing. It had already begun ramping up towards another outburst in the short time the container had been closed. Edwin could feel that insistent, vexatious drone reestablishing itself. Could feel the temperature in the office drop — for him, at least. Crystal seemed unaffected. Definitely spectral, then. "I'm in there. What's left of me, at any rate."

Under different, less harrowing conditions, he might've enjoyed the look on Crystal's face. A slow, dawning transformation from confusion to slack-jawed horror. It wasn't altogether unlike the face she'd made when they'd returned from the case of the disappearing chin with their reward: a mason jar full of assorted teeth.

But the circumstances were far from jovial. Engaging in some good-natured needling of his colleague was quite far down his list of priorities. The comfort of such a ritual — and even the comfort of the sanctuary in which they now stood — lay sullied by the aura leeching from the trunk.

Edwin found himself feeling... unappreciative, of the hallowed space. Of their shared artefacts and ephemera, of the four walls that had housed their agency from its inception. It all seemed so far out of his purview, at present. There was a numbness settling upon him. Different to the ever-present sensory deprivation of the ghostly condition. Different, and worse. His usual lack of feeling was just that; a lack. An absence of heat, of touch, of smell and taste and bodily sensation. It was a simple, neutral nothing. This was a something. This was the presence of an absence. For the first time in decades, as pins and needles bloomed about his person, he was granted a physical symptom of his own lack of physicality. It was troubling. He could feel; but only just enough to be reminded that he couldn't.

His hands twitched, and he tugged his gloves off in jerky motions, finger by finger. As he did so, he tripped headlong into a battle of wills; staring down the sealed trunk with bated breath. The sound of Charles' voice as he explained and Crystal's as she quizzed, they all seemed to fade to an insignificant hum behind that wheedling drone. It was like a whisper into the ear. So quiet and yet by sheer proximity, sheer intimacy it drove all other noise to the background. Drawing his ears, his eyes, his mind to the enclosed space. Urging him to step close, to open the lid. To look, look, look at me...

"Edwin? Edwin, you listening?"

"Hm?" He had not, in fact, been listening. Abashed, he turned his attention to Charles. "Yes. That is, ah... might you repeat that?"

Charles was watching him with open concern, eyes wide and a tension in his jaw. His gaze kept darting between Edwin and the trunk as if he could see the pull between them, following it like a string. "What are we gonna do?" he asked, voice pitched low. "With... with them?"

Edwin hadn't the faintest notion.

Still, he'd insisted on not involving the police, and this was his problem in most every possible sense. So he cleared his throat, and discarded his coat and gloves on the desk. "Well. Clearly, the matter merits further investigation. We are still on a case, after all." He strode over to the bookshelf and perused its titles, fingers dancing across the spines. "The school should be safe, now that the cause has been removed from the grounds."

"Bad new for our office, though," muttered Charles.

"Okay, have I like, missed something?" Crystal cut in, throwing her hands in the air. "This doesn't make any sense! I’m sorry, Edwin, but if these... if these are your bones —" her voice dropped, briefly, into a hiss. As if the harsh truth would soften if spoken in hushed tones. "Then how can they be doing this? They can't be haunted, right? How can they be haunted, when your spirit is —?"

"Otherwise engaged? I've no idea." He riffled through the pages of a volume on hexes, finding nothing of relevance at a glance. He'd already known that would be the case, but the need for familiar motions was... acute. "It's really quite fascinating," he said, in an attempt at airy detachment. He wasn't altogether convinced he pulled it off.

"Edwin," said Charles — much closer to Edwin's ear than he'd expected in his distraction. Edwin jumped a tad, wrong-footed. He cursed the impulse at once when Charles pulled away, apology writ large across his face. "Maybe, um," Charles forged on, hands held where Edwin could see them. "Maybe you should let us handle this one, mate. You're a bit... close to the situation. Yeah?"

Edwin offered a tight, strained smile. "Thank you, Charles. But I'm quite alright. And I'll be even better when this case is closed, so we'd best hop to it. Besides, chances are strong that this holds very little relevance to me, at all. It's possible the remains have been infested or claimed by another paranormal entity. This could all be unravelled with something as simple as a counter-jinx. Now, have you that grimoire — the one we acquired in ninety seven? I think it might be in your bag."

Charles sighed, and clapped Edwin on the shoulder. "I'll have a look."

He sloped off in search, and Edwin busied himself loading books onto his arm; any that could be even tangentially related. Educational texts, diaries, even certain storybooks could point them in the right direction. It was possible they were looking into something unlike anything they'd seen before. They may need to glean insights from unorthodox sources.

He'd amassed a stack of about a baker's dozen by the time Crystal replaced Charles at his shoulder.

"Gimme some of those," she said, hands palm up and fingers flapping.

"They're very dense volumes," said Edwin, barely sparing her a glance. "Spanning several languages, many of them dead —"

"Then gimme the ones in English. We all need to work together." Her hands did not lower, and nor did her gaze; it remained fixed upon him in a brazen manner that dared him to argue. Her eyes were hard, but her voice softened somewhat when she said: "Let's wrap this one up fast, okay?"

He sighed, and accepted defeat. He begrudgingly handed her his (replica, thoroughly de-hexed) edition of The Boneturner's Tale. "Thank you," he uttered.

"This the one, Edwin?" Charles called.

Edwin glanced over and found Charles with one arm in his bag of tricks, the other holding aloft a tattered book. "That's it exactly, Charles. Flick through and find the section on malicious enchantments — bones are a common component in numerous spells. See if you find any phenomena corresponding to what we've experienced tonight."

Books in hand, Edwin picked his way across the office, nigh on hugging the wall — giving the trunk a very wide berth. "Likewise to you, Crystal," he instructed. "We're looking for any mention of cold snaps, telepathic communication, or compulsions in relation to bones or remains. We need to ascertain what we're up against and, ideally, how to stop it. I daresay we have a long night ahead of us."

Crystal groaned, sinking like a stone into the sofa. "I'm gonna need some coffee or something," she muttered, tucking her feet under herself as she opened her book.

"Maybe we can sweet talk Charlie into putting the kettle on," Charles teased.

Crystal snorted. "Yeah, great. She'd like that almost as much as you calling her Charlie."

Edwin loosened his bowtie as he claimed his desk chair. He felt constricted, all of the sudden. As if the new not-awareness was expanding into a new cognizance of the clothing on his person. He looked, disquieted, at the box; and though it simply wasn't possible, he could feel it looking back. It was certainly talking back; on and on, that never ending litany, uttered without breath or pause, a rolling patter of desperation. Look at me look at me look at me please —

He slammed the first book down, decisively, and flipped to the index. "Onwards and upwards..."

Charles picked up another book from the stack — one that made him go a touch cross-eyed upon opening — and perched on the desk at Edwin's elbow. "Don't worry, mate," he said, delivering a companionable knock to Edwin's arm with his knee. "With all three of us on the job, the Dead Boy Detectives at full force? We'll have this sussed out by morning!"

~

Two Days Later…

"How's it feel, now?" asked Crystal, pen poised over Edwin's notebook.

Edwin, with gritted teeth, wrestled his jumbled thoughts into some kind of submission. It was so hard just to think — and it got harder with every step down the corridor. "Six," he bit out, resting his hands on his knees and catching his breath. He could scarcely hear himself over the racket in his head. "Definitely six."

Crystal jotted it down. Edwin wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of adding her chicken scratch handwriting to his meticulous notes. But the way these tests had his own hands shaking, his writing was no better at present.

"It's getting worse," Crystal muttered, brow furrowed as she scanned the page.

"Obviously it's getting worse," he snapped. "I think we've quite thoroughly established that, Crystal."

"Oi! Leave off," Charles cut in, stern. He was wearing the same stormy expression that had followed Edwin on his slow, arduous odyssey down the hall. "She's only trying to help."

Edwin sighed, and dragged his hands down his face. Perhaps he could up and disappear into them. "Yes. Yes, I know." He risked a peek over his fingers, down at Charles. They were shoulder to shoulder, two abreast in the narrow corridor. But while Edwin was upright (just about) and forward-facing, Charles was hunkered down and reversed. A necessity while he unspooled the tape measure along the floor at the pace of Edwin's cautious feet. "Charles, how far?"

Charles checked the tape measure against the toe of Edwin's boot. "'Bout thirty feet."

"About?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright, you bloody pedant! Thirty point... three."

"It's not pedantic to record our findings with accuracy," Edwin grumbled. "Write it down, Crystal. Please," he appended, with haste.

She did so — but she frowned at Edwin like he was the one being tedious and unreasonable. "Is this really the best thing we could be doing?" she asked.

"Our research has been a dead end. We need more information to build off. We need to establish rules, parameters." He straightened up from his resting position, and adjusted his rumpled waistcoat. A vain attempt, with the garment unbuttoned and hanging limp from his torso. "This haunting must have a boundary to its area of affect. At the school I didn't feel it at all until the second floor. It'll get worse, and then better when I'm out of its range."

"Or," Crystal contended. "You triggered a trap when you opened the box, and now it's not gonna let you go."

Edwin scowled. "If that proves to be the case, then I shall gladly add it to the information we hold. But logic and due process dictates we gather every available piece of evidence before leaping to conclusions. Now, if there are no more objections, let's get on with it, shall we?"

"You should take a breather, mate," said Charles, eyeing Edwin with disarming intensity. "You're looking a bit peaky."

Edwin sniffed, steepling his fingers. "We've had two fruitless days already," he said. "I'll not tolerate a third."

He took a bold stride before either could respond — and hissed through his teeth as the clamour in his head roared to the fore. It was rather like radio static, scratching upon his frayed nerves. And that was to say nothing of the cold, which was creeping back and making him regret stripping so many layers.

It was like there was a thread, pulled taut between him and the object in the office. With every step he stretched it tighter, felt the pressure more keenly. With every inch of distance, it pulled back harder — like one of Charles' rubber band slingshots. He wondered at what point it might snap him back by force.

He exhaled, and watched the phantom breath condense in the air before him. He channelled the discomfort and pain into his hands; clenching the fingers, grinding his fists.

"You alright?" asked Charles, eyes narrowed.

"Quite," Edwin rasped. A graceless recovery; and it only worsened on his next step, when he was unable to suppress a pathetic whimper.

“Sounds legit," Crystal muttered.

The thread was pulling tighter, tighter, the cry more insistent. Begging him to turn around, to come back — come and see, come and see, come and see...

"Mate..." said Charles, a note of warning in his voice.

Edwin took a breath; and then another step. And the thread drew tight, white hot and razor sharp; so sharp as to slice through his very mind like a wire through soft clay.

He gasped, his knee buckled. His ankle disappeared into the floor as he lost his concentration on the material plain.

Crystal winced. "How'd that one feel?"

He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples. "Six... and a half."

"Right," said Charles, matter-of-factly. "That's enough of that."

He hit the retract button on the tape measure, sending it spiralling back into its casing.

"Charles, really —" Edwin protested.

"No! I'm not having it!" said Charles, straightening from his crouch and taking Edwin by the shoulders. "Not gonna stand here and watch you hurt yourself for some stupid bloody experiment. C'mon." He spun Edwin around and began near-frogmarching him towards the office. "Back you go."

"Charles," Edwin snapped, struggling against the undignified manhandling. But when he really did feel measurably better with every step, it was hard to muster the enthusiasm to fight. "I survived seventy years in hell. I think I know my own limits!"

Crystal snorted, falling into step behind Charles. "Kinda sounds like the reason you don't know your limits, honestly."

"Yeah! Yeah, exactly," Charles agreed, emboldened. "You've been ripped to shreds in that place. God only knows what else you'll put yourself through. If this is a six —"

"And a half," Edwin corrected, miffed.

"If this is a six and a half," said Charles. "I don't even wanna know what a ten is."

The racket in Edwin's head subsided somewhat — and flustered ire filled the void it left behind. He brushed off Charles' hands and turned on him, quick as a whip, burning with indignation. "I do not need to be mollycoddled. Perhaps, Charles, for once, you might take a rest from your ceaseless fixation on safeguarding my feelings in order to actually solve this case!"

He regretted the words before they were even out. But his pride was wounded, and so he turned on his heel and stalked away; before he could see the matching hurt on Charles' face.

Some things, like cursed skeletons in trunks, were liable to drive a man to madness if looked at directly.

~

The office, of course, was just about the last place Edwin wanted to be. But with the invisible bond tethering him, it was the only place to which he could retreat in solitude. Almost solitude, that is. It was hard to feel truly alone, with that thing so close at hand. With the way it seemed to burrow into his consciousness, whisper its wretched pleas in his mind. Look at me look at me see me please see me —

Edwin pounced upon the bottom desk drawer — the 'stuff drawer', as Charles so descriptively dubbed it — and rummaged around. He uttered a soft 'a-ha!' of triumph when his fingers closed around a large, weathered brass padlock. Another donation from a satisfied customer. It was enchanted to open only for the person who'd closed it.

He hastened over and, with shaking hands, threaded the shackle of the padlock through the staple of the trunk. He felt the answering hum of the enchantment flaring to life as the mechanism clicked shut. Spells, at least, were tangible even to a ghost.

The pleading magnified, sharp and anguished. Then it subsided instead into a quiet hum of dismay, and a further drop in the temperature of the room.

Edwin collapsed like a de-strung puppet, sagging down upon the trunk and breathing raggedly. He closed his eyes, leaned forward, hands on his head, head practically between his knees. He sat, and breathed, and waited for the room to stop spinning.

It wasn't Charles who found him in such a state, but Crystal. A fact he was at once disappointed and relieved by. He didn't care for Crystal seeing him this way, depleted and vulnerable. But considering his last words to Charles, he had no immediate desire to be confronted by him, either.

"Edwin," Crystal greeted, in that uncharacteristically formal manner that she reserved for him alone. Usually, she applied it in jest, as a running joke. Rarely had he seen her deliver it with a face so grave.

He collected himself on a slow inhale, straightening his back. "Crystal," he answered in kind, standing and marching to his desk.

She followed. He was careful not to look at her, but her platform boots on the old wood floors telegraphed her location. "So," she said, coming to halt on the opposite side of the desk. "You ready to apologise to Charles, yet?"

Her confrontational manner rankled, made it all too tempting to deny any wrongdoing. But try as he might, he couldn't deny the evidence.

He sighed, folding into his desk chair and massaging his temples. "Soon." He risked a glance, found her looking at him not with anger, but with concern. It unsettled him. Crystal's anger, he knew what to do with. Generally they sniped back and forth until the tension broke or someone stormed off. Anger and pettiness was their shared dialect. He wasn't so well-versed in the vocabulary of her earnest worriment. "I am... sorry that you had to see that," he offered.

"I've, like, never seen you like that," she said, sitting down in the chair generally reserved for clientele. She was watching him like she was studying him, reading him. He half expected her eyes to go white as she went in for a closer look. "You guys bicker all the time, but. I've never seen you actually mad at him." She leaned back and crossed her arms. "He's pretty cut up about it."

Guilt curdled in Edwin's stomach. "Is he...?"

"He's okay. I left him bugging Jenny with his angst." She shrugged. "She kind of always knows exactly what blunt shit to say to snap you out of it."

"Ah. Yes, good. Very good."

She watched him. She had a very stubborn stare. It had served them well on occasion, usually in the acquisition of information from a tight-lipped witness.

He fidgeted, tugging at his shirtsleeve. "It was... unkind. What I said to him. Not to mention unfair. Disingenuous of me, to complain about his protective tendencies. Considering how greatly I've come to... value them."

She raised her eyebrow.

He returned the gesture. "... Depend upon them, even."

"Yeah. Yeah, it was pretty messed up, what you said to him." She leaned on the desk, arms folded. "But... I guess you're pretty messed up right now, huh?"

Edwin scowled. "That is... one way to put it."

"What's with the scratching?"

"Hm?"

"The scratching." She pointed at his hand, and he looked to find he'd abandoned his sleeve in favour of itching the wrist beneath. "That's not one of your things, your twitchy, gesture-y... things. You only started doing that when..."

Her eyes darted over her shoulder. "When you brought them in."

Edwin didn't follow her glance. He was trying not to look at the object in question any more than he had to. "I hadn't noticed."

She tilted her head as she regarded him. "You can still feel them, can't you?"

"Truthfully, I'm not altogether sure what it is I feel," he said. "Only that I am feeling considerably more than usual."

Crystal toyed with the sleeve of her ratty cardigan. "Must be super weird. Not being able to feel. I never really asked, but like... how do you even, like, ground yourself? How do you get a sense of where you are in the world?"

Edwin hummed, considering. "There is... an awareness, I suppose. Broad peripherals, so to speak. In lieu of other sensory input, one becomes quite keen of eye and ear. Sometimes that translates into the illusion of pressure from objects we know are at hand."

"Is there anything you can feel?"

"Pain," he said, bitterly. "Only from particular sources, I grant you. But yes, we're quite familiar with pain."

"That sucks."

He huffed. "It does, indeed, suck."

"There's seriously nothing else?"

He hesitated. "Well. I suppose, in a manner or speaking, we can feel ourselves."

She leaned in closer, inquisitive. Edwin didn't much care to dwell on this subject — but he did wish to encourage her scientific curiosity. She was a detective in training, after all.

With a beleaguered sigh, he propped his elbow neatly upon the desk, hand pointed to the ceiling. He folded his sleeve down, neatly, exposing his wrist. Pale skin, sparse hair, blue veins that remained only as a faded shadow of the blood that once pumped through them. With an attention-summoning flourish he lifted his other hand. Slowly, he scratched his fingernail down the length of his wrist. He felt the scraping drag of his nail edge against skin and hair — at least he could imagine he did, quite vividly.

"I theorise that it's once again a matter of awareness. Amplified, in this case. Awareness from visual input; plus that from conscious and subconscious intention and expectation; equals sensation. Or at least a convincing enough replica." He spread his fingers and swept his palms out, embellishing the point. "I know that I intend to scratch my arm; ergo, my arm is scratched."

"Just your intentions?" she asked, gaze turning from his arm to his eyes. "Not other ghosts? You guys can't feel each other?"

He gave a sad smile, dropping his hands to the table. "No. No, we're not mind readers. Without being attuned to the intention, even other ghosts may as well be far apart on the mortal plain."

"Guess I always figured you guys must feel something," she said, rubbing her arms. Despite the gloomy subject, she managed a small, teasing smile. "With the way Charles is always hanging off of you."

He smiled, ducking his head. "Well. There is something to be said for the comfort of a gesture. Wishful thinking can go a long way, in our circumstances." He watched her hands, wondering what the texture under her palms felt like. It looked like a soft cardigan, well-worn, well-loved. His own hands clenched into fists on the desk. "After decades of the same, one learns to take what one can get."

She puffed out her cheeks. "Well that's. Depressing."

"Yes, quite."

"But you're feeling stuff now. Aren't you?"

"Yes." His jaw twitched. "Unfortunately, not a pleasant experience, in this case."

"Look." She clasped her hands on the desk, leaning towards him like a co-conspirator. "I get wanting to figure this out, I really do." She lowered her voice, as if they were sharing a secret. "I know how much it royally sucks to have a voice in your head you can't shake."

Edwin flinched, guiltily. The comparison hadn't even occurred to him.

"And I'm gonna help you," she continue, eyebrow twitching like she knew what he'd just thought and was choosing to move past it. "But let's... let's take the pain experiments down a notch, okay? Because if you keep hurting yourself, Charles is gonna give me the sad puppy eyes and I can not deal."

Edwin gave a soft snort of laughter. "He is rather compelling, isn't he?" Fondness crept into his tone, unbidden.

She seemed to pick up on that unspoken thought, also, her lips pursing against a smile. "Yeah, yeah, he's adorable. So. Back to work? No more weird, fucked up self-torture shit?"

Edwin may be stubborn, but he knew when he was outvoted. He sighed. "Very well."

"Cool. let's do it." She cut off his agreement with a raised finger. "After you apologise to Charles."

He raised his eyebrow. "You're quite the canny negotiator. Have you been practising?"

"We got a deal?"

Edwin sniffed, haughtily rolling his sleeve back into place. "Well. As it happens, I was about to do that, anyway."

She smirked. "Sure you were."

~

Of course, Edwin was not currently able to make the short trip to Jenny's new establishment, where Charles was offloading his woes. He could've tried, but he imagined the wilful endangerment of himself would undermine his apology for... well, for wilful endangerment of himself. So he sent Crystal with word to Charles, and waited.

Edwin found waiting around to be a fretful exercise at the best of times. The presence of the object only made matters worse.

He paced along the breadth of the wide window, listening to the drizzling London rain. Usually, he found the sound of the droplets on the window pane calming. It was marred on this occasion by the more insistent sound in the back of his mind, buzzing for attention. The temperature in the room dropped with each lap of the window; every time he turned on his heel to retrace his steps, and refused to acknowledge the trunk in the slightest. He wanted to don a coat or jumper, but refused to give it the satisfaction.

Soon, another sound broke through the drone. Footsteps down the corridor. The door opened, and in walked Charles.

"Alright?" he greeted. He was eyeing Edwin with wariness — but, thankfully, not with distress.

Edwin let out a breath he hadn't know he was holding. He'd been afraid... well. He often feared that one of these days, he'd finally exhaust the bottomless well of Charles' patience, his kindness. "Charles," he breathed, steepling his fingers to keep them from twitching at his sides. "I owe you an apology."

Charles' tense shoulders dropped, infinitesimally; like a weight had fallen from them. His entire countenance softened in turn, and he smiled at Edwin with fondness as he closed the door behind him.

"Already forgotten, mate." He said. He advanced in long, even strides across the office, sparing a vigilant glance for the trunk on his way. He rounded the desk to stand before Edwin, planting both hands upon his shoulders and addressing him directly. "You're pretty stressed out, yeah?"

Edwin exhaled on a breathy laugh. "To say the least." He looked down at Charles' hand, the thumb tracing circles on Edwin's shirt. Perhaps it was a result of his discussion with Crystal, but he was above-averagely aware of the absence of weight, of feeling. Of warmth. He swallowed, tightly, and placed his hand over Charles'. "But I should not have taken it out on you."

"No. You bloody shouldn't've." He gave a self-effacing little grin. "Lucky for you, I'm a hardy sort of bloke."

What a ridiculous boy he was. A steadfast, self-sacrificing fool, always to quick to forgive Edwin his trespasses. Affection bloomed in Edwin's chest, bright and effervescent. The cold, the noise; for an instant it all melted like ice dropped into hot tea.

Charles' grip tightened; Edwin saw him squeeze his arms."But seriously, yeah?" said Charles, sober. "No more torturing yourself for this bloody case. Else I'll have Jenny come up here, give you a right telling off. And she's proper good at it."

Edwin smiled down at his feet. "Well, then. I suppose I have no choice."

"Too right."

Charles hesitated, gaze raking Edwin's face, taking him in from his eyes to his lips. Edwin cocked his head, questioning; if only to mask how tender and raw he felt under the close, gentle scrutiny.

Wordlessly, Charles pulled him close. He wrapped his arms tight around Edwin's shoulders in a fierce embrace; slotting them together like two puzzle pieces.

"Thank you," he mumbled into Edwin's neck.

Edwin's breath hitched, as it so often did when Charles held him so. No matter how common the occurrence, or how absent the physical sensation. The very gesture was bound to leave him gently thunderstruck nonetheless.

He returned it in his usual manner; with the stiff, cautious awkwardness of inexperience. Grateful, in some small, bitter way, that Charles couldn't possibly feel it. Couldn't bear witness to his bungling attempts at expressing affection.

Though he'd accept that humiliation. He'd take it with gratitude. If only for the chance to feel the soft gust of Charles' breath against his throat; to know the warm weight of him in his arms.

Soon, far too soon, Charles sniffed and pulled back. His hands never left Edwin's shoulders as he regarded him with squinted eyes and a wrinkled nose. A small, mischievous smile tugged his lips. "So," he said. "Back to the books, then?"

Edwin sighed. "Too the books," he agreed, without enthusiasm.

Charles chuckled. "How's this for a role reversal, eh?"

~

One Day Later…

Despite the obstructions of Charles and his mother-henning, they had made some progress in their studies. Edwin's notes on the object and its effects read thus:

Physical properties of the object (as observed by Charles): Faint, blue glow. Slight visible movement — agitation, vibration. No visible runes or enchantments. All bones assumed to be present and correct — Charles unwilling to 'rummage'.

Sense of cold: spectral only, no material plain adjustment. Affects Charles, not Crystal. Worse with distance/when box is closed.

Phantom sensations: a slight grounding effect, connection to material plain. Irritation, itches, pins and needles. Affects neither Crystal nor Charles. Intensifies in close proximity.

Whispering/speech: inaudible to Charles, Crystal. Sometimes unintelligible. Notable phrases: look at me, see me, don't leave me. Other sounds include a slight rattling, at times increasing in frequency to a buzz. Worse with distance/when box is closed.

It was hardly a treasure trove of information to work from, and he did manage to persuade Charles that further experimentation was needed. But he was under quite strict orders to withdraw should the pain top a four on his 'bloody mental' pain scale. A promise he kept to the letter.

Headaches, as it happened, were quite possible to achieve at a three or lower.

"I'm a ghost," Edwin complained, from his repose on the sofa. "I cannot get headaches."

"Well, then you're a scientific marvel, aren't you?" said Charles, patting his shoulder. He was perched on the edge of the couch, looking down at Edwin with pity. "Looks like you can get 'em just fine, mate. What you can't get is any paracetamol." He winced. "Bit rough, that."

Edwin sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I miss hemp."

"You what?"

"Indian hemp — you've never tried it? My nanny used to give me a pinch when I was feeling out of sorts," said Edwin, nostalgic. "Always used to perk me up."

Charles laughed. "Fuck me. You telling me you was toddling round, stoned off your tits at, what, six?"

Edwin rolled his eyes — wishing he hadn't when the motion exacerbated the pain in his skull. "I hardly overindulged."

"Perish the thought," teased Charles, in his tiresome facsimile of Edwin's cadence.

Edwin swatted at his arm, half-heartedly. Charles dodged it with laughter and ease, standing up and cracking his knuckles.

"Now, I can't offer you any drugs, but," said Charles, circling round to the end of the sofa. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together briskly. "I can do this."

Edwin frowned. "What are you doing?"

Charles, now standing behind Edwin's head, leaned over it to grin down at him and wiggle his fingers. "My mum used to do this," he said. "Head massage. You'll like it."

Edwin regarded him, unimpressed. "Charles, I cannot feel."

"C'mon — give it a go!"

He remained unconvinced. But, as he'd told Crystal only yesterday, a comforting gesture wasn't to be sniffed at. "Very well," he said. "Carry on."

"Brills. Here we go, then!"

Charles, showed Edwin his hands and made sure he was watching them. Then he pulled them back to just above Edwin's eyebrows and, presumably, began to rub the skin there. Edwin couldn't have said for sure that's what was happening, of course. Charles could be drawing lewd images on his forehead, for all he knew. But the look of concentration was there on Charles' face and so perhaps, if Edwin closed his eyes and used his imagination, he could fill in the gaps. He could imagine the motions of Charles' confident fingers. Picture them against his own skin, carefully working out the tension stroke by stroke.

Charles always seemed to know exactly what to do with his hands. How to swing a bat, how to catch a ball, how to hold Edwin together. Even when he demonstrably did not know what he was doing at all, his moments of utmost impulsivity. Even then, he committed to the act with such decisiveness, such single-minded intent. It boggled Edwin's mind to think that he could have such confidence of bearing, and yet such limited material impact on the world. Charles Rowland's hands could have shaped the universe, were they as substantial in matter as they were in resolve. He'd already managed miracles with nought but air and ectoplasm.

Edwin’s belief, it seemed, was well-founded. Despite his misgivings, he did feel the ache receding. He sighed. Even such a minor relief, after days of such heightened pressure, had him all but melting under Charles' hands. He indulged in a slow, languid stretch of his body, his back arching off the sofa as a soft groan escape him.

"Alright down there?"

Charles sounded ever so slightly out of breath. Edwin smiled. Trust him to put all his effort and then some into a gesture that Edwin couldn't even fully appreciate. "Yes. That's wonderful, Charles." His eyes fluttered open and he craned his head back against the armrest, catching Charles' eye. "Thank you."

He was surprised to find Charles looking even more breathless than he sounded. His mouth hung slightly open, and his hooded eyes appeared to be a touch glazed.

Charles blinked back into startled clarity when he felt Edwin's eyes upon him, and snapped his mouth shut. He pulled his hands away to give Edwin a brusque, chummy pat on the shoulders.

"Anytime, mate," he mumbled. "Anytime."

~

Three More Days Later…

The case dragged on in its plodding, unsatisfactory manner. Edwin felt himself clinging to his composure by the skin of his teeth. He was a raw, frazzled nerve, stripped to his shirtsleeves and the barest trappings of dignity. For nearly a week he'd been enduring this ceaseless psychic bombardment with precious little to show for it, and his patience had worn thin.

So when Crystal barrelled into the room, slamming the door against the wall in her haste, he nearly bit her head off.

"Do you mind?" Edwin exclaimed, smacking his hand down on the desk and sending a small ream of papers flying.

Over on the sofa, Charles snorted into alertness. Though he couldn't doze off, he'd been staring at the same page in his book for so long that he appeared to have drifted into a semi-conscious state. Edwin hadn't had the heart to rouse him — they were hardly making progress either way.

"We're idiots," was Crystal's response to Edwin's rhetorical outburst. She looked about as stretched thin as Edwin felt; hair pulled back into a tangled, frizzy knot atop her head, shadows under her eyes. She'd been wearing the same scruffy jeans and faded t-shirt for at least forty-eight hours. She planted both hands on the desk and leaned in close, staring Edwin down. "The mirror."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The mirror." She threw her hands up. "We never tried the mirror!"

"Never tried what with the mirror?" asked Charles, groggy, sitting up and dragging a hand down his face.

"We never tried sending Edwin through it," she explained, slowly, as if they were small children. "All that time we spent fucking around, trying to see how far he could walk away — did any of us ever fucking stop and think if he could teleport away?"

Silence. Deafening silence. Edwin and Charles shared a look.

"Bloody hell," Charles muttered. "Maybe we are stupid."

Edwin didn't reply. He had more pressing matters to attend to; he near vaulted the desk in his haste to get around it.

He marched with single-minded purpose towards the large mirror they'd yet to relegate back to storage. If it meant passing closer to the trunk than he had in days, he paid it no mind. Though the object in question noticed, and he felt its psychic fingers clawing at his ankles as he passed. Its whispers followed him like a curse; don't don't don't —

"Woah — alright, mate, let's take it easy, yeah?" Charles rushed out, springing up from the sofa and darting to Edwin's side. His hand circled Edwin's wrist, a comfort and a restraint all in one. "Think it through — you know what happens when you don't look before you leap, yeah?"

Edwin closed his eyes and exhaled, hands clenching into fists. Charles was right, of course. But with potential freedom so close at hand he scarcely wished to admit it. "I need a location," he said. "A target."

"Jenny's shop," Crystal quickly suggested, coming to stand at his other shoulder. "It's safe, and she knows you guys. It's only her working there today."

"Perfect." Edwin held his hand out to the mirror and visualised Jenny's new London workplace. And very old butcher's shop, established not long after Edwin's time. Owned in the modern era by the founder's great, great grandaughter, and her charming civil partner. Despite the transatlantic culture shock, Jenny had rather fallen among thieves. In his mind's eye, Edwin pictured the rustic mirror on the wall, nailed to sturdy old brickwork. Mounted between taxidermy animal heads and antique butchery implements. "I have it," he said, and opened his eyes to find that answering ripple on the mirror's surface.

Charles' grip tightened when Edwin tried to take a step. "You sure about this?" he asked. "You said that mirror hop right before you found 'em felt off..."

That was true enough. But an unpleasant experience was well worth the modicum of freedom it might afford him. "I'll be quite alright, Charles. We know that I can still go through mirrors, it’s how we got the box here, after all. It’s a question of whether it will let me go without it," he said, breaking Charles' hold on his wrist to take him by the hand instead. "But I must try."

Charles' eyes were wide with worry, but he nodded. Though his fretting over Edwin won above all else, this case had been arduous on him, as well. They all needed a breakthrough. "Alright," he said. "But give us a second."

Edwin watched, bemused, as Charles dashed for his bag and rummaged inside. He resurfaced with a large coil of rope. Charles was a blur of frenetic motion as he fastened it in a sturdy sailor's knot around the leg of the desk (he’d picked up some useful skills during the case of the drowned diver).

"Hold this, yeah, Crystal?" said Charles, dumping the slack length of remaining rope into her arms.

"Smart," she said — though a confused frown followed. "Wait, me hold it? What are you doing?"

"Going with him. You feel two tugs, drag us out, yeah?"

"Charles," said Edwin. "I've mirror hopped a thousand times. There's no need for you to —"

"What's the matter?" said Charles, rejoining Edwin and tying the rope around his waist. Despite the nervous tension suffusing him from head to toe, he still found the wherewithal to give a cheeky grin. "Can't wait to get rid of me?"

Edwin's heart, if the spectre of such a thing still existed within him, skipped a beat. "Quite the opposite," he said, gesturing for Charles to hand him the remaining slack when he was finished. "But someone has to spare a thought for your safety — and I think we all know it won't be you."

"In't that what I've been telling you?" Charles teased, lifting his arms for Edwin to loop the rope around him.

Edwin rolled his eyes, and secured the lifeline with a sharp tug. "Evidently, we're a terrible influence on one another."

"Guys," Crystal interjected.

They both whipped their heads round to look at her.

"I have been awake," she said, slow and just a touch dangerous. "For fifty two hours."

Edwin cleared his throat. "Yes, yes. Quite right. Time is of the essence." He met Charles' eyes. "Are you ready?"

Charles nodded, slipping his hand into Edwin's once more; a more tangible tether than any rope or chain. "Ready."

"Good luck," said Crystal, bracing her hands on the rope and her feet on the floor. "Don't die. Again."

"Reckon we've been here before," Charles joked. "You tryna make that a running gag?"

She grimaced. "Well, maybe if you two quit risking your afterlives so much, I'd have to say it less."

"Yeah, alright, fair cop." Charles squeezed Edwin's hand. "On three, then?"

Despite his trepidation, Edwin smiled. "We've been here before, too," he said. "Yes. On three. One..."

Charles gripped him tight and pressed up against him, shoulder to incorporeal shoulder. "Two..."

The whispering filled Edwin's skull, dense and cloying. Don't leave don't leave don't —

He looked once more to Charles' face; it was all the courage he required.

"Three!"

~

The space behind the mirror welcomed them, as it had welcomed Edwin back at St. Hilarion's. That is to say, it did not welcome them in the slightest. A journey which should have taken an instant seemed to stretch behind and before them, ad infinitum; thick as syrup, fast as a locomotive. They tumbled headlong through the roiling vortex of here, there and everywhere. Had they the ability to bruise, Edwin was sure their snapping lifeline would have whipped welts across their ankles. He fell endlessly, uncontrollably.

But it was a significant improvement on the last time. Now, at least, he had Charles to fall alongside. His one constant companion besides that damnable whispering — though as they fell it grew fainter, fainter, fainter...

Then they were through to the other side, expelled once more into the world they knew — collapsing together in an ungainly pile of limbs. And Edwin gasped, violently, as that thread which tethered him to the voice snapped behind him.

"Ugh, fuck, I'm gonna be sick," Charles groaned. It was an empty threat; he was by Edwin's side in moments, clear-voiced and intent. "Edwin?" His warm brown eyes swam into view. His hand — the one not currently tangled in Edwin's fingers — cupped Edwin's face. "Edwin, you alright?"

Edwin laughed, breathless and elated, his hand covering Charles'. "It stopped," he breathed. "Charles, it stopped, I can't hear it!"

Charles' grin could've lit the night. "Yes, Edwin!" he crowed, bumping their foreheads together. "You did it, mate — you're out!"

Edwin felt boundless, in that moment. Unrestrained. Unashamed of holding Charles close and sharing his laughter, sharing his breath. For the first time in what felt like a small lifetime, it was all gone. The cold, the itch, the whispers and pleas. All of it lay somewhere else, out of sight and mind, and for a moment he could simply be. Be with his best friend, the love of his life, with his smile and his laughter; no distractions, no compulsions. So surrounded by Charles and nothing but Charles that he could almost imagine how his fingers felt upon his face. How his laughter felt upon his lips...

"What. The fuck?"

And just like that, the moment shattered.

They both startled, landing soundly on their backsides on the butcher shop floor. They looked up to find Jenny staring at them, bug-eyed and incredulous, from behind the meat counter.

"Um. Hullo, Jenny," Charles greeted her, with a sheepish grin. He threw in a wave for good measure — forgetting that his right hand was currently engaged in holding Edwin's. Edwin had never been an unwilling participant in someone else's wave before. He rather hoped he never would be again.

"Miss Green," Edwin added, fumbling to extract himself from the wave. He scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off. Now that his head wasn't full of ceaseless psychic badgering, he had the presence of mind to feel self-conscious about his shabby state of... un-dress. He should have put his waistcoat back on, at the very least. Here he was, standing before a lady in a public establishment, and he was bordering on the semi-classical. "Our apologies for, ah. Barging in."

"Yeah, sorry. Should've knocked!" said Charles.

"Yes. Quite."

Jenny narrowed her eyes, staring at the rope that had them quite literally joined at the hip. She gestured between the two of them with her cleaver. "So. I guess you two made up."

Edwin cleared his throat. "Ah. Yes, all water under the bridge."

"Yeah, yeah, all sorted," Charles agreed.

She gave Edwin a look, then turned to Charles and raised a razor-sharp eyebrow. "He stop being a dick?"

"Yeah, he did," said Charles, grinning, as he cut off Edwin's indignant protest with an arm around his shoulder. "Can't stay mad at me for long, can he?"

Edwin rolled his eyes — his smile, alas, was irrepressible.

"Great! Happy for you!" Her tone was dry, her smile tight-lipped. "Never jump out of my mirror while I'm holding a fucking meat cleaver again."

She punctuated her edict with a sharp, decisive swing; severing the pork joint on her chopping block with an executioner's resolve.

Edwin grimaced, and adjusted his bedraggled collar. "Duly noted."

Charles opened his mouth, no doubt to come out with another cheeky rejoinder. He was interrupted, however, by the tightening of the rope, forcing both he and Edwin to lurch back a step. They both looked down in alarm at the slack trailing into the mirror as it went taut, repeatedly. An insistent tug, urging them to follow.

"Oh," said Edwin, weakly. "I can't imagine that bodes well."

There was no time to dwell on the implications. In seconds Charles' hands were at Edwin's waist, attacking the knotted rope. "Charles, what are you doing?" Edwin enquired.

"You stay here for a bit, yeah?" said Charles — followed by a muttered curse as he was foiled by his own stellar rope-tying technique. "Take a breather — I'll go back, check on Crystal."

"You kids do know this isn't a clubhouse?" came Jenny's weary interjection.

Edwin gathered his courage, and stilled Charles' hands. "No," he said. "Thank you, Charles. But if there's a problem with... with the case, well. I should be present to handle it."

"You've been handling it for days, mate," said Charles; levelling him with his infamous 'sad puppy eyes'.

To paraphrase Crystal, Edwin could not deal. But, bravely, he held his ground nonetheless. Even forced a small smile. "I've handled worse for seventy years," he said.

Charles scowled. "Yeah, that's not gonna make me —"

"Spit-spot, now, Charles," said Edwin primly, seizing Charles' hand and about-turning to the mirror. "We've been summoned."

"Edwin —!"

But his argument, like Jenny's final bewildered comments, were lost to the currents of the in-between as they slipped once more into the vortex.

~

Yet again, another unpleasant journey through the mirror. Unfortunately, Edwin was growing rather used to it.

What he was not prepared for was what awaited them on the other side.

"Oh, fuck," said Charles — though it was barely coherent as a swear past the chatter of his teeth.

Edwin agreed, whole-heartedly. Though truth be told, he could barely hear Charles over the sudden and vicious return of the cries in his head. He pressed his palms to his ears — though it was futile with the noise seeming to ring out from within himself — and took in the awful scene.

The office that awaited them was barely recognisable as the one they’d left. In part due to the mess of toppled furniture, scattered books and broken memorabilia that littered the place, as if a hurricane had torn through the building during their short absence.

But mostly, due to the snow.

Edwin stared, aghast, at the dense white blanket that now lay across anything and everything. Flakes drifted through the air, but at far too sedate a pace for this kind of coverage. To have cloaked every surface so thickly and thoroughly suggested a veritable blizzard had beset the room behind them. And standing in the middle of it all was Crystal. Untouched, it seemed, by the snow, which must be spectral in nature — but not unaffected. She was shivering, visibly, and her breath escaped in soft puffs of glistening vapour.

"About t-t-time," she bit out, with difficulty. She abandoned the rope in favour of rubbing her upper arms through the meagre defence of her threadbare cardigan.

"Crystal!" Charles bolted to her, hands joining hers, for all the good it would do her. "What the b-loody hell happened?"

"Soon as you guys w-went, it just —" she mimed an explosion, puffing air from her cheeks. "Everything starting s-shaking, and snowing, and — and then this French chick just like, b-burst outta the wall and started yelling —"

"That’s just our landlady," said Charles. "She’s harmless."

"Yes. She’s not even French," said Edwin, turning a slow circle, regarding the chaos with dismay. "If Madame Seine felt the disturbance, then it must have fanned out beyond this room. Quite far beyond — she tends to haunt the attic…"

"I can feel it," said Crystal, shoving her hands under her armpits in an attempt to warm them. "Not — not as bad as it looks, I guess, or I’d be freezing, but I can feel it. I haven’t felt it before."

"It must be getting stronger," Edwin muttered. "Reaching beyond the spectral and out to your psychic awareness." He turned on them. "Can either of you hear it, now?"

"Like a whisper," said Charles, shaking his head as if dislodging water from his ears. "Or a — a buzzing? I dunno." Crystal nodded her agreement.

Edwin’s jaw clenched. "Right. Definitely stronger, then." He closed his eyes. "It is… considerably louder than a whisper, for me."

DON’T LEAVE ME DON’T LEAVE ME LOOK AT ME SEE ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME

"That is enough!"

Charles and Crystal both jumped. Edwin could hardly blame them — it was a sudden outburst, and one he wasn’t proud of. But he could scarcely think with that miserable clamour. He felt browbeaten, harried — hounded mercilessly even in the safety of his own mind. He’d put it off for too long.

He turned, slowly, and he looked at the trunk.

Immediately upon doing so, the air changed. The last of the snow ceased to fall and a chorus of slow drips took its place, as that which had settled begun to melt. The cold did not lift entirely, but it did somewhat. The voice did not cease or quiet, but it did soften in tone — from cries of anguish to cajoling, coercive murmurs. Like it knew it had his attention; like it wanted him to close the distance.

Nothing else for it.

"Edwin," said Charles. "You sure about this?"

"Not in the slightest," he said, as he hunkered down beside the trunk. His fingers closed around the enchanted padlock; it warmed under his touch and clicked open obediently. "But we’re running out of options."

Before he could even slip the padlock free, Charles was at his side — and Crystal followed suit. Their hands joined his upon the lid of the trunk; their eyes found his in silent question.

He exhaled, slowly. "Just a quick peek," he promised them. Promised himself. "Just to… mollify it."

Crystal gave him a look he didn’t much care to interpret. He had no doubt she’d confront him with whatever thought she’d just had, soon enough. For now, they had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Just a look," Charles agreed — though he was focusing far more intently on Edwin’s face than on the box. "See what’s what."

"Yes," he breathed. "What’s what…"

They shared a look — Charles to Edwin, Edwin to Crystal, back again — and slowly, as one, lifted the lid.

The first thing that came into view was the glow. Blue, and cold, and rippling over the surface of the grim contents like a sheen. Underneath, as Edwin’s eyes adjusted, shapes began to consolidate. A queasiness overtook him as, unbidden, the scientific names he'd learned presented themselves like annotations in a textbook. Annotating the withered remains of his own pitiful skeleton.

A cold droplet landed upon his cheek. He startled. Sensation was uncommon — sensations of damp even moreso. He glanced up to find that the snow upon the ceiling light was melting, a steady drip drip drip that happened to align with him. Carving his face like falling tears.

"It’s doing somethin’," Charles muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Warming up in here…"

"I can’t hear it anymore," said Crystal. "Can you guys?"

Charles shook his head. "No. Edwin?"

He nodded. "It’s faint." He frowned. "I think… I think it’s saying something else, now…"

…ay wi… me…

"What’s it saying?" asked Crystal.

"I… I’m not altogether sure. It’s so quiet." He cocked his head. "It sounds scared."

"He," said Crystal.

Edwin stared at her. "What?"

She raised her brows and looked between him and the miserable pile of bones. "He sounds scared," she said, gentle. "Edwin, it’s you."

He bristled. "We don’t know that for —"

"Fuck's sake, Edwin," said Charles. "What else d’you need? It’s in your bones, it talks to you, it went bonkers when you left. What else could we be dealing with here?"

"Any number of things!" he said. "Anything could have… imprinted on my remains. A parasite, a demon, some kind of carrion feeder — perhaps even an infestation of dandelion sprites, it’s certainly attention-seeking enough —"

"They only go for living hosts, Edwin, you bloody know that," said Charles.

"There’s no it, Edwin," Crystal pressed. "There’s no ‘the case’, ‘the object’, it’s — it’s you. We all know that, we’ve known that since the start."

"And I don’t think pretending not to know is helping us any," Charles added.

Edwin opened his mouth to argue — but there were no words left. No more logic that could save him.

Charles watched him, and took his hand. "Edwin," he said. "What’s he saying to you?"

Edwin looked at the bones. At his bones. Met his gaze, eye to empty eye socket.

Sta… ith me…

He exhaled a hoarse, rattling breath.

"He…" Edwin swallowed. "He wishes for me… to stay with him."

"Just you?" asked Crystal.

He shook his head. "I… cannot say."

"Right." Charles gave a short, sharp nod, and pushed the lid back, until it swung open enough to stay upright on its own. "Let’s have a sit down for a bit then, eh?"

"Good idea," said Crystal. She sounded weary beyond her years; aged by the psychic onslaught. "Let’s all just… sit. Fuck, I’m fucking tired…"

"Edwin? Turn around, yeah? C’mon."

Edwin allowed himself to be guided by Charles’ hand on his back, Crystal’s on his elbow. Allowed himself to be propped, his back against the trunk, his knees tucked to his chest. Allowed his head to be pulled to Charles’ shoulder, and laid to rest there.

"This alright?" asked Charles. "I mean, is it — is he happy, with you not looking at 'im?"

Edwin nodded. He had very little energy to expend with the motion. "Yes. Yes, for now it — he seems to be… content."

"Good. That’s good." Charles exhaled, a slow, overwrought thing. Edwin could see a stray strand of his own hair lift and fall in the slight gust from Charles’ breath — his hair had fallen into some disarray, of late. Shameful, really. "Let’s all just… just take a second, yeah?"

Edwin had no strength left to argue. He closed his eyes, tucking his head closer into Charles’ collarbone. Wishing he could feel the rise of his chest, his soft exhalations in his hair. But even a shadow of an embrace was better than nothing. Charles didn’t need a physical presence to be Edwin’s anchor in this world. On his other side, Crystal settled herself, arm tucked through Edwin’s, an ankle flung across his, and for just now he didn’t care to shy away. Her breathing slowed. She muttered something that sounded like 'wake me when the next ice age hits'.

It was almost… peaceful. Here on the floor. No words, no actions, all tumbled together with scandalous disregard for propriety. Edwin hadn't had the ability or the desire to sleep in decades, but were that not the case, he thought he could have here. With Charles his pillow, and Crystal his blanket. He wished he could sleep. Just for a few stolen hours, a brief escape from his own mind and the thoughts lurking there. The theories turning over, and over. No, not theories. Nothing so useful as a theory. A theory would imply that he had any information to form the building blocks of a solution; and he was as tragically, hopelessly lost at sea as he had been days ago. Not theories. Something far more ominous.

Implications.

“Charles,” he said, softly.

“Yeah, mate?”

“How long…” Edwin licked his lips. His mouth felt dry, chapped. He felt uncomfortably, uncommonly real at that moment; so close to his bones they could have merged back into one being. “How long will I have to stay with him,” he said, barely above a whisper. “In order to make him… happy? Do you think?”

And will it be less than forever?

Charles, slow and steady, wrapped an arm around Edwin’s shoulder.

“We'll sort it,” he said, low, unwavering. "I promise, Edwin, we'll sort it."

Edwin released a ragged breath into Charles' shoulder. He watched the spectral thaw seep sluggishly into their shoes.

"D'you believe me?" asked Charles, voice tender, flayed open; like he couldn't bear it if the answer was no.

Edwin took one of Charles' hands in both of his, and clutched it like a talisman.

"I believe you."

~~

Yaaaaay pain!!!!! Hope you liked! I love love LOVE all your comments and seeing you so engaged in the story has genuinely been so incredible and if you keep it up I will be a very happy boy and you will get me through my last days of covid isolation! (I have been stuck in one room for 5 days so far to keep distance from my folks, it’s bad guys, luckily my room is very pretty but I pretty much wrote Edwin’s mental breakdown from first-hand experience lmao) Commentary! Yes, Boneturner’s Tale is a TMA reference. No, Edwin did not hand his friend an actual dangerous evil book. It’s like a cheap and nasty paperback replica or something lmao. Hex or no hex, she’s not gonna enjoy reading it much :/ Honestly, writing Edwin and Charles falling out physically hurt. It didn’t last long in part bc my heart couldn’t take it dkjsfbdsnfagdgf Try as I might this fic keeps turning into Charles-and-Edwin, so there’s still not as much Crystal screentime as she deserves, but I truly enjoyed writing her heart-to-heart with Edwin! I love the ways they’re different and the same and I love it when they’re bitches who care for each other 💛 I am NEVER getting this complex about ghost touch again. For all future fics unless stated otherwise just assume ghosts can’t feel humans/the world but can feel each other to some extent, I’m making myself so sad writing Edwin and Charles in a universe where they’re utterly lost in space! It’ll be worth it in the very end I promise xD Yes I fully ground the fic plot to a halt for tender hugs and horny head massage. My house my rules. Yes, Indian hemp was indeed a headache remedy! I was sort of hoping I could google ‘Edwardian headache remedies’ and found out they used, like, cocaine, so I could have Edwin sigh and say ‘I miss cocaine’, but alas, we take what we can get. Pray for my girl Crystal, she works with these gay losers who flirt nonstop and Do Not Realise they are married. She’s getting so many premature grey hairs. Semi-classical = semi-nude. Been reading up on some Edwardian slang lmao. Don’t expect Jenny to come back in this fic but it was so nice to say hello to her! I don’t know what the deal is with the office - like, if the boys leave money for an actual human landlord who doesn’t ask questions or what - but my personal headcanon is that it’s an empty building that no one can sell or do anything with due to persistent hauntings, and it’s haunted by a friendly former brothel madame who once ran her business out of there. The boys first case they solved together was hers, and she adores them, thinks they’re lovely boys, and she lets them have the office and is basically their eccentric pretending-to-be-French Mrs Hudson counterpart. I don’t know why this is my headcanon except that I find it fun and whimsical and I think Madame Seine and the Night Nurse would be a hilarious MILF double act. Maybe I will write fic about her one day. I know this is a bit of an odd one, story progression wise. I hope no one feels put out by the fact that the story hasn’t exactly progressed much - but as I was drafting the rest of the fic I sort of realised that I wanted, amongst other aspects of Edwin’s journey, for him to have some denial to overcome. Which, in my classic carried-away way, became basically an entire chapter of obfuscating rounded off with a cold splash of reality. He needed to find that connection to the bones and accept it before they can get to the next stage of figuring out how to make them happy and end the haunting. Fun Fact! When writing the very last scene/conversation, the Power of Love by Frankie Goes To Hollywood came on shuffle. This would have been posted an hour earlier but I need to wail into my pillow in anguish. Anyway, that’s it for now! No idea when the next chapter’s up - I think it’ll be easier to write than this one but I’ve also sunk waaaay too much time into this one this week, so I should take a break for the sake of my hands and my other projects! It WILL be up though, probs in a few weeks. Until next time! 💛

[puppy-phum]

Pick Your Vice Versa Outfit ↳ Talay Rawi Edition [Puen ver.]

My Top 10 Talay Outfits for @stormyoceans​​​​  layout insp. [x]

+ bonus:

(some thoughts under the cut!)

more rambles about these outfits for you monica! i hope you enjoy ^^

TOP 10 Talay Outfits explained:

10. Zebra Boy a stylish and flowy zebra print shirt with basic white slacks and talay’s signature white bag. this one is so silly but cool i had to include it. i actually am obsessed with both of the white & black print shirts tess owns but the other one is mostly worn my ohm in the series so i didn’t inlude it here (ep 2 when tess/talay goes to pester tun at the café). also i just like this scene a lot and couldn’t get over the “secret lover” -line. 

9. Reunion Blues a simple navy blue dress shirt and light colored pants plus talay’s round glasses. listen: am not a big fan of talay’s clothes in his own universe even if he looks adorable in them, but this one! this one is a legend. straight up iconic. he looks so pretty in dark blue and then we have this whole scene and ugh. just pure insanity. 

8. Goodbyes taste bitter an orange and white striped shirt and black jeans. am so obsessed with the v-neck of this shirt, it’s crazy. i don’t blame puen at all for instantly going like, “oh yes, that’s my bf now” bc honestly? very understandable. talay just looks so good in this shirt, holy hell. continues on the road of, “why must you dress up so nicely when the occasion is breaking my heart?” i guess these two are similar like that. 

7. Let us kiss again a red-blue-white striped sweater with red pants. i love this color combo on talay so much. blue and red just suit him. the shirt is also tight fitting and it’s amusing to see puen Struggling bc of it. man is not able to keep his hands off. it’s very understandable but pls sir, calm down. you’ve known each other like two weeks. and you still haven’t even told talay that you’re not kissing him just bc but bc you’re head over heels in love with him. get a grip. 

6. First Kiss a simple white sweatshirt and red/fucsia pants. i don’t want to say this but i have to say this: talay’s ass looks amazing in these pants. like, am not one to stare but oh boy. it’s right there! stealing the show! and then it’s combined with talay’s sexy wet hair after running through the rain to look for his long lost lover friend who he wants to make up with. Literally. bc they’re kissing by the end of this. and i scream. 

5. The Green Sweater a yellow-green sweater combined with white pants. talay looks adorable in this with his guitar and the sweater paws. am not at all surprised that puen looks close to tears bc bitch, me too. it’s just So Soft and then it’s mixed with the guitar (+ the lotus flower) and talay singing a love song and. i want to hug him so bad, puen get out of the way it’s my turn now. 

4. The Wedding Suit a light pink colored suit, apparently without a shirt underneath. this whole thing began with this suit. as i said, this one is 100% outshining the one puen wears in this scene. i am just in love with this suit; the color, the simplicity, the cut, the way talay wears it so casually. he looks amazing and positively ethereal. puen is marrying him on the spot. talay is thinking it’s a joke but i might just tell him it’s not. get a ring and be done with it, would you. this might sound controversial after me saying puen is rushing things with the kisses but i don’t actually have anything against it.  

3. Loneliness is yellow a simple black sweatshirt with bright yellow pants. i feel like the more heartbreaking the scenes get, the better talay gets dressed. he’s always serving looks when am crying on my floor. i don’t mind tho bc why not have several mental breakdowns at the same time, saves me the time. he looks absolutely glorious in that black shirt, and the colored pants are a wonderful touch. if tess got nothing else, at least he's had the sense to buy all these clothes.

2. The Gray Jacket a textured gray jacket with a black shirt and white pants. the texture on this jacket makes me go wild bc it looks so nice to touch and the whole jacket looks so cozy. am wondering how talay can wear that with the heat but that’s fortunately something that doesn’t get to me through my screen. he looks very huggable once again. he looks positively radiant when he smiles. and it’s just a plus that puen looks so gone for him bc yeah, valid. am in love with this sunshine boy too. 

1. Second chance a gray sweater with red details, combined with red pants. honestly talay’s best outfit in this whole show hands down. every time i start this ep, i am just blown away by this outfit. the styling team was going crazy that day. the shirt has a v-neck, the red details work so well, it fits talay nicely, the rolled sleeves, the delicate bag. the pants are tight fitting and make his legs look extra long and slim. especially in that billiard room lighting he just looks insanely pretty. i want to yell into the void. the void might yell back at me. 

Bonus: Striped Bathrobe a black and white striped robe, worn mostly for breakfast. i am not really sure what to call this but a bathrobe felt like the closest fitting one so i went with it. it’s crazy how this is literally the second outfit puen ever sees talay in if we don’t count talay being half naked. he got absolutely bewitched and talay is not even bothered. this striped robe is what truly mattered. and please let’s not talk about ai’dang. 

[justagalwhowrites]

I'm so curious what is your writing process like? I'm floored by how fast you write yet the quality is always sososo high. Do you have a beta? Are you a god? What..how..😱

Please get some sleep

Ahhhh Hi Bestie!

Um you're so sweet???? This is so nice??? Thank you so much??????

TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION

....probably don't fully approach writing like I do if you're trying to write because I approach it like a trash goblin in a human suit trying to make things BUT here's what I do!

When I get the idea for a story (fan fic, novel, screenplay, whatever) it usually comes character first. There's someone who intrigues the hell out of me whose story I want to write and then I just have to figure out what their story is. The second part usually comes pretty quick, at least one or two major story moments and the climax and the resolution at least. Then I think through how to get them there and what kind of journey is going to be the most impactful for them. Then I write that down in the form of a story map where I lay things out beat by beat (these notes are usually very vague, like 2 or 3 words per chapter, my vision is far from fully realized) and then write down some basic stuff about the main characters. Actually write it, too, I've got a real cute lil' notebook that I have my story notes and any poems I've written lately (and my D&D notes) in it and I carry it around everywhere when my brain is feeling particularly creative.

This is where the trash goblin takes over because then I just write it. The story map is pretty fluid, I don't think I've ever stuck to one entirely, it always shifts and changes depending on what I get up to narratively. Sometimes that's just story beats stretch longer than I thought so they span several chapters instead of one, sometimes I change my mind on something altogether (like in Yearling, the stable incident with Simon was originally something else entirely but I was like "wait no that doesn't make as much sense, this feels convoluted, doing something else now" and took place in a slightly different spot). When I'm writing, I kind of picture what happens in my head like I'm watching a movie. The characters have their conversations, I write those down, describe how they're feeling, what stuff looks like, etc. The downside to this is the movie of this shit is literally ALWAYS ON in my head and will NOT go away until I write it. The angst that's coming in Yearling? Been playing in my head on a loop for weeks. IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE SEND HELP.

Once I get a chapter done, I give it a quick read mostly for grammar and stuff and to make sure it flows right (and there aren't a bunch of repeated words and stuff - I was a copy editor previously in my career but copy editing your own stuff is tricky so this is a questionable process) and then I post it. No betas, no editors besides myself, generally very little rewrites (I'll rewrite a chunk of a chapter once every like 20 chapters or so, it's rare.) I just throw all these words on the page and then hurl them at y'all and you're kind enough to make super sweet comments like this!

I'm so happy you think my work is high quality and written quickly!! I think I've finally adjusted from the schedule I was keeping for Lavender so it no longer feels like I'm slacking only putting out 2-3 chapters a week but it still doesn't feel like I'm quick lol so thank you for that, too!

And as far as the sleep goes? You saw nothing, definitely not me posting at 3 a.m., don't tell my therapist, everything is fine here.

JK I'm largely just fine! I've always been a night owl and function fine as long as I get a total of 6 hours of sleep, even if that's between a nap and an overnight sleep. It's probably not the best but eh, I'm having fun.

Thank you again for reading and for being so kind!! So happy you're here. Love you!!

[missameliep]

Incorrect Quotes

Thank you so much for the tag @aallotarenunelmaenunelma and @jerzwriter ☺️

I'm just having a blast with this generator and I can't stop laughing!

Here is the generator where the following quotes come from. Special OTP edition!

Rules: Use this (https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator) generator to generate a quote for your characters and share as many as you like!

Tagging: @princess-geek @lorirwritesfanfic @noesapphic @storyofmychoices and whoever feels like doing this

Incorrect quotes for Elizabeth x Hamid; Arwen x Tyril; Malia x Troy and Zoe x Colt under the cut (beware, there are a lot of them! I couldn't stop! this is simply too fun!):

Elizabeth x Hamid

Hamid: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response.

Elizabeth: Wow. They sound stupid.

Hamid: But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense.

Elizabeth: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Hamid: I guess you’re right. Hey Elizabeth, I love you.

Elizabeth: See! Just say that!

Hamid: Holy fucking shit.

Elizabeth: If that flies over their head then, sorry Hamid, but they're too dumb for you.

Hamid: Elizabeth.

Hamid : Fruits that do not live up to their names; passionfruit, grapefruit, honeydew and dragonfruit.

Hamid : Fruits that do live up to their names?

Hamid : Orange.

Elizabeth : The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

Hamid: I warned you.

Hamid: I'm perfect.

Elizabeth: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

Hamid: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Elizabeth: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Hamid: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Elizabeth: Is it working?

Hamid: What are you in the mood for?

Elizabeth: World domination.

Hamid: That's a bit ambitious.

Elizabeth: You are my world.

Hamid: Aww...

Elizabeth:

Hamid:

Elizabeth:

Hamid: OH.

Elizabeth: Is something burning?

Hamid, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you.

Elizabeth: Hamid, the toaster is literally on fire.

Hamid: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me?

Elizabeth: Depends. Is your bed comfortable?

Hamid: Yes.

Elizabeth: I'd sleep.

2. Arwen x Tyril

Arwen: Assert your dominance over your friends by kicking them in the face, and then giving them a little smooch on the forehead!

Tyril: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

Arwen: I was put on this earth to do one thing.

Arwen: Luckily I forgot what it was so I can do whatever I want.

Tyril: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

Arwen: *coughs blood*

Tyril: Don't die, Arwen!

Arwen: Don't tell me what to do!

Tyril: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Arwen periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’

Tyril: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Tyril: Where are your parents?

Arwen: What are parents?

Tyril: That’s just about the saddest thing I've ever heard.

Tyril: This is a very powerful artifact. You’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand.

Arwen: That sounds like a dare to me.

Tyril: Oh my god.

Arwen: Can you cut me some slack, Tyril? I’m sort of in love.

Tyril: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem.

Arwen: I’m in love with you.

Tyril: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

Tyril: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Arwen: I wrote you a poem.

Tyril, already crying: You did?

Arwen: Tyril, you love me, right?

Tyril: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

3. Malia x Troy Hassan

Troy: I’m in love with you.

Malia: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Troy: I know.

Malia: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Troy : And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

Malia: *angrily presses Troy against a wall* WHERE'S THE MONEY?!

Troy: ...

Troy: Are we about to kiss-

Troy : We got a free day now. What do you wanna do? Eat? Sleep? Nap? Snack?

Malia: When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what the hell am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Malia lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the person who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

Troy : Malia, remember when you said you weren’t going to interfere with my love life?

Malia: No, that doesn’t sound like me at all.

Malia: You’re an idiot.

Troy : That’s the charm.

Troy : Truth or dare?

Malia: Truth.

Troy : How many hours have you slept this week?

Malia:

Malia: Dare.

Troy : Go to sleep.

Malia: I don't like this game.

Troy: I like your new pants!

Malia: Thanks, they were 50Troy off!

Troy: I’d like them better if they were 100Troy off. *winks*

Malia: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Troy: Thats’s… not what I meant.

Malia: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Troy.

Malia: I WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD FOR YOU!

Troy : Okay, can you do the dishes?

Malia: No!

Troy : Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreashing.

Malia: Are you a software update? because not right now.

Troy : *raises eyebrows*

Malia: Put those back down!

Malia: You call yourself my soulmate, but where were you when my meme only had four likes?

Troy : Making four accounts.

Malia, tearing up: Really...?

4. Zoe x Colt Kaneko

Zoe: Did you buy eggs like I asked?

Colt: Even better!

Zoe: What the fuck did you-

Colt: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

Zoe: Hey Colt, do you have any hobbies?

Colt: Swimming...

Zoe: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-

Colt: In a pool of self hatred and regret.

Zoe: Isn’t a bit dangerous?

Colt: Zoe, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt.

Zoe: ...

Colt: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt.

Zoe: ...

Colt: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves in the way home.

Zoe: Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?

Colt: If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid.

Zoe: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you...

Colt: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

Zoe: You can’t have a gun on stage!

Colt: WRONG AGAIN! I can have a gun, and I must have a gun, that’s the rule of Chekhov’s Gun: have a gun. And now that it’s been seen, I will have to shoot someone before the end of the play.

Zoe: I'm trying to juggle family life and work life but I can't seem to find a balance. What do you suggest I do to keep everyone happy?

Colt, deadpan: Quit your job, kill your family.

Zoe: You have to apologize to them Colt.

Colt: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

Zoe: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

Colt: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Zoe: Holy moly-

Colt: Talk dirty to me~

Zoe: Inflation is a serious problem and lumber prices are at a high.

Colt: Wha-

Zoe: The economy is in shambles.

Colt: Go fuck yourself.

Zoe, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch

[ultramaga]

I didn't see Ant-man, but the character never interested me. I didn't have any feelings about it otherwise. Thor Ragnarok was the beginning of the end as far as I could see. I enjoyed it, but right after I said that it felt like two movies crushed into one - a comedy and a tragedy. The combination left a bitter taste, and I disliked it more the longer I thought about it. I never watched it again, but I have matched earlier ones many times. Black Panther just seemed to be racist propaganda. I liked the lead actor, I liked parts, but again, the more I knew about it, the worse it became, to the point that the movie makers were boasting of how racist they were. Also it was just dull. Having two people fight without any consequences is appallingly bad. Compare the fight scenes to John Wick or Logan. Captain Marvel ran off a cliff, and it is still bouncing. Hell, the latest tv series is all about how stupid that movie was. The Skrulls worked well as bad guys in the comics. To suddenly paint them as innocent didnadoo nuffins was insane. Then they flip back again and have them as atomic weapon terrorists. Holy shite. And Brie Larson's racist bitch arse didn't do any favours. She was an incredibly bad pick for the part anyway, the original was incredibly beautiful. Brie had cosmetic surgery afterwards. Then had a youtube channel showing off the new tits. Then closed the channel because she had so much negative feedback. Ant-Man and the Wasp established the patter that the male white lead had to be degraded, then replaced. Ultimately Thor became a pathetic loser, as did Loki, as did Hawkeye, as did ... I mean, who is left? They killed and/or character assassinated not just all the white men, but the hot women of the original MCU. My god, even the poster for GotG 3 had Nebula with a man's body edited in. Sorry, Karen is not someone you would mistake for a man, even with no hair. Hollywood says it is going on strike? I say, what difference will it make? If Thanos snapped, and all the Leftists died, frankly, we would just dust a bit and make our own stuff. We don't need them. Even if no other industry was able to replace Hollywood - and Britain has already suggested it take up the slack, and Japan has been pumping out hits for generations now - we have a century of classics to turn to.

There's lifetimes of good movies out there. Let's go!

i think we as a society went through a period where people watched every marvel movie because they’re marvel movies. So, which of these movies was the last one you watched before only watching Marvel movies you’re genuinely interested in seeing?

(some titles are shortened/condensed to fit into the character limit)

[yourolddunsparce]

Y.O.D here signing on,

If you’re all unaware, there is a reddit user by the tag of u/DropWatcher that compiles a list of hip hop related content that drops approximately every week. While r/hiphopheads has arguably fallen off in terms of actual discussion, these weekly drops are a fantastic way to view new and upcoming talent, or maybe there’s a drop from your favorite artist you missed because it’s not on streaming! These threads are simply a godsend, and this account deserves all the praise in the world.

When I was originally writing this post, it was last week, and the biggest drops of the week were a JID freestyle and a surprise album from The Game. In that span, we've gotten drops from the likes of 21 Savage, Kid Cudi, Boldy James, Bruiser Wolf, and a Lil Nas X single. My ass is slacking, but I can't let procrastination get another dub, so we stay grinding.

We are so fucking back.

JID - 30 (Freestyle)

Listen, when I hear that Conductor tag, I have to lock the fuck in. Conductor Williams broke through 2023 with some major placements for Drake with a few tracks off of For All The Dogs and it’s ensuing Scary Hours edition (8AM in Charlotte, Stories About My Brother) on top of his regularly scheduled tracks with Westside Gunn (Suicide in Selfridges, The Revenge of Flips Leg). These productions were the most prolific among a busy year that included collaborations with the likes of Rome Streetz, Little Brother, and a full fledged EP with Conway the Machine. I say all this to outline how quickly his demand is rising in comparison to where he was a few years ago, where he described himself in 2016 as “eating shit” for about 2 years in this video regarding his music placements. Now he’s here working with Christo (An underrated producer in his own part) and Tane Runo to lay beats down for JID, a superstar further asserting his prowess with this freestyle.

For those not yet aware of JID, I'm sorry to say you're lying. A top 5 Billboard 100 hit in Enemy with Imagine Dragons (derogatory) and his critically acclaimed "The Forever Story" highlight his ever growing career, and if this single is anything to go by, his momentum isn't stopping anytime soon. His braggadocios bars aren't anything particularly special for the Atlanta native, but he still sounds as hungry as ever, especially towards the latter half of the track. He's set the stage for a huge year with an upcoming feature on Lyrical Lemonade's ALL IS YELLOW compilation album (dropping Jan. 26th) and Forever & A Day, an album previously teased on his Instagram Live. While he states in this live that the album would drop "coming fall time," this live was made at the end of August of last year. Whether it will drop remains to be seen, but for now, we can enjoy him talking his shit over this funky, bass-laden beat.

The Game & Big Hit - Paisley Dreams

This highlight is a little different, as I don't necessarily think this is a great project for either artist. I showcase this project more so to put eyes on Big-Hit, the previously incarcerated father of producer Hit-Boy, who's fresh off a 6 album run with Nas, my personal pick for the greatest rapper of all time. The King's Disease and Magic trilogies are some of the best work Nas has put out in his 34-year long career, largely due to the variety of beats Hit-Boy put him on. Without diverting too much from my main objective here, I wanted to highlight the insane work ethic of the 36-year old California native who managed to produce, among other projects:

The final installments of the Magic trilogy with Magic 2 and Magic 3

Two solo albums, one that features his father heavily

A few singles for artists like Benny the Butcher and Rapsody

The one I wanted to draw more eyes on, however, is his work with Big-Hit on his debut solo project, The Truth Is In My Eyes. With respect to Paisley Dreams, TTIIME (get used to nonsensical acronyms) is a much better showcase for Big-Hit, who still sounds quite nice for being in prison for 30 years. He clearly didn't stop writing even in prison, and he's able to hang in with a cast of solid features and guest producers (Snoop Dogg, Benny the Butcher, The Alchemist). In comparison to Paisley Dreams, Big-Hit is content leaning into an aggressive delivery, trading lyrical depth to become an energetic foil to The Game. The Game can still pack a few punches with his lines, "I keep a blower, Nintendo cartridge" is the only instance I've heard someone spit this bar. Considering this tape was supposedly conceived in an entire night, it's an impressive flex for all artists involved.

Da Flyy Hooligan & Wun Two - Nocturnal Hooli Vol. 1

A small, yet grimy EP from two artists I was either barely or not familiar with at all. You may recognize Wun Two from their collaboration tape with Conway the Machine last year, a small addition to an extensive list of drops from the Buffalo native. I certainly didn't recognize Da Flyy Hooligan, however, and I have to apologize for not being familiar with your game. He's actually had a few tracks with Griselda affiliates on some previous tracks of his, including Keisha Plum, Camouflage Monk, and the Flygod himself. You can give them a listen on his tape Hooli Hansen -0 Da Mixxxtape. I don't particularly fuck with the U.K's rap talent, but Hooli (can I call him that?) showcases his storytelling abilities specifically on the tracks Lifechecc and Exzhibit. Combined with Wun Two's signature haunting production, which I can only describe as lo-fi Griseldacore, it all comes together for a neat little project. If you're a fan of any Griselda adjacent projects, this is definitely worth your time.

Nicholas Craven & Boldy James - Penalty of Leadership

Ever since I discovered the fantastic Manger on McNichols late last year, I've been craving for Boldy James to drop, especially after a relatively quiet 2023 by his standards. It's entirely understandable, however, as he was still quite fresh from a car crash that required extensive neck surgery. Three days removed from the anniversary of that car crash, he dropped his second collaboration album with Nicholas Craven, who stated he was recording his verses as early as 5 days after being discharged from the hospital. Needless to say, his work ethic is fucking inhuman, and he's still spitting some of his slickest bars to date over Craven's signature drumless loops.

Browsing a few music sites, you might find a little criticism for the simplistic loops that Craven seems comfortable sticking with, but I've always enjoyed the unique samples he seems to dig up. Jack Frost is probably my favorite example of this, as it puts Boldy over an upbeat, 70's sounding beat that emphasizes the strings and vocals to craft a catchy track, setting up the album well for what's to come. Boldy himself sounds a little deeper then previous efforts, but it's easy enough to attribute that to his injury and growing age (he's 41 what the fuck!!!). It doesn't affect his actual rapping abilities in the slightest, however, and he still maintains a smooth flow across the project while spitting about his daughter getting good grades in the middle of a coke rap track. Favorites off this album have to be Straight As, Evil Genius, All My Tokens (that guitar fucking hits), No Pun Intended, and the aforementioned Jack Frost. A worthwhile project from both artists.

Lil Nas X - J CHRIST

Every day Lil Nas X succeeds is a day we collectively continue to win as a people. He literally recreated Jesus crossing up the devil, what more could you want in a music video?!

Dave East could never.

In all seriousness though, I'm not crazy about the track. It's a fine comeback track, but the HUMBLE piano doesn't do it for me, and I'd like to see LNX pop off with a different soundscape every once in awhile. It's not my favorite hook either, and it's not the most lyrically verbose track, but it's a catchy single, who am I to expect a masterpiece? Hoping an album announcement is on the way, Montero was a great project and I'd love to see what else he has in store!

I'll post tomorrow about 21 Savage, Bruiser Wolf, and Kid Cudi after I digest their projects more, because I admittedly only had 2 Bad on repeat this entire weekend. Sorry to say, but song of the fucking century. Bruiser Wolf on top. Your favorite could never. GGs to everyone for trying.

Y.O.D, goin crazy on the pole, bipolar...BRUISER

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

AITA for carrying on an important legacy?

So I’m a court bailiff in a large city. The judge I primarily work with is a man I greatly respect and care for, and I recently discovered he has been doing some things that aren’t necessarily legal but are still helpful to the world at large. Recently he suffered the death of a close friend and has also quit doing these things.

However, I saw a lot of potential in it and decided to pick up his slack. A few days after this I told him about it because I thought he had the right to know and that he’d be understanding, and he blew up on me. Telling me I’m insane, that this is dangerous and I could die, that doing these things negatively impacts him, all kinds of stuff.

My thing is, even though I did start this because of him I don’t think it directly impacts his life in any way just because it was his idea originally. He wants me to stop, but I don’t want to. So, AITA here?

Edit 1: I’m not specifying what the idea is ok. It’s not legal but it’s moral and I don’t want to lose my job or see him lose his job, and it is a little dangerous, but so are most things. So stop asking.

Edit 2: Yes, he didnt tell me directly he was doing these things, and I found out despite him really not wanting me to. I still feel he is reacting way too negatively.

Edit 3: Well, it’s been a couple weeks and he’s still mad at me, but I also think we’re starting to go back to normal. Some stuff happened and now he has a flight out of state soon. I’ll miss him, but I’m also kind of relieved.

Edit 4: Reddit quick how do you heal massive gunshot wou

[safyresky]

SO GUEST REVIEWERS, IF YOU'RE OUT THERE, THIS ONE'S FOR YOU!!

FOUR TIMES?????? OMG!!!! THAT'S LOVELY!!! DON'T EVEN WORRY DUDE SHE'LL BE FINISHED TO COMPLETION BY CRIBMAS (god willing. I have been slacking on writing bc the latest two chapters have needed some heavy edits pre-being posted but 29 has two more scenes to go? Then it's final chapter time!!)

Thank you! The next chapter is goddamn INSANE. I hope you all enjoy it. Old men get HELLA thrown around. Blaise, Jack, AND Jacqueline all have one really badass moment and I am STOKED to share them 💕💕💕

PS I love your vibe based SOLEY on the name you used, goth people have such WICKED BADASS AWESOME OUTFITS :D

HE'S MY FAVE TOO! See: the 280k plus fanfic that exists because of this fucking guy (affectionate) 🙃🙃🙃

I don't think he'll be appearing in the series, and tbh given how bad they've been "writing" the council I'm kinda glad about it lmao. But I've got plans for a lil series-rewrite that could include him!! :)

ALSO IF YOU MISSED IT! There was a Jack related easter egg in episode 3--his face was in the lil snow globe screen as Carol was working in the ELFS centre on the nutcracker case, moments before switching to Befana's house :) He was up on that screen for a WHILE. Not new images tho, deffs from the movie and I THINK specifically from the "To do that [unfreeze Laura and Neil] I'd have to unfreeze myself. And that's something I'll NEVER do."

Got home and checked my e-mails and Crystal Springs has 4 new reviews?? In ONE UPDAte??? heLLO????? THAT' S SO NICE? THANK YOU. WHERE DID YOU COME FROM.

[hiroshikoi]

Why do they have a crush on you?

Pick a Pile: Intuitive Reading

You can ask for more than one different person

Can also apply to past (why they had a crush on you before) or future (why someone would typically have a crush on you).

+ Includes how they see you, through a video edit because you’re hot

How to Pick a Pile: Take the time to look at each picture above it is numbered piles 1-6 from top left to the bottom right. Which one sparks a memory? What emotions do you feel? Do you feel anything at all? If all piles spark a memory, choose which one is the strongest. If none, try to go with the one that draws you in the most otherwise, these messages are not meant for you (at this time).

Photos aren’t mine, got it from pinterest and all credits go to the owner.

1 • Pile One

They have a crush on you because they find you so fun to be around. You’re a breath of fresh air. When you’re around them or interact with them, life feels so easy, feels so free. Their problems melt away in the presence of you, in the thought of you. You make them feel like a kid again/connect with their inner child. They feel so giddy around you. You may also notice that they can’t help but smile when they look at you. 🥰

They have a crush on you because you somehow have shown them that life doesn’t have to be so hard all the time. Or at least, it really depends on how you take it/view it. You encourage them to be more optimistic.

You may also remind them of their childhood crush/first ever crush (or you *are* that). But this isn’t super tied to why they have a crush on you don’t worry 😅 (you’re not a replacement or something like that), you really just bring up good feelings particularly from their childhood/past. You may also make them see their past in a more positive light.

video edit 1 (particularly where bella’s with wings and smiling 🥰. you really encourage them to smile more yknow. You encourage them to let loose and have fun)

2 • Pile Two

You saw them for who they truly are (or at least, in their impression you definitely did/do). The way that you saw their most authentic self was so natural that if someone were to ask you about this person (whom has a crush on you) you’d be like “uh yeah, they’re [their authentic self]” when others may not have seen them like that and when you may not even be close to this person at all (but you see them this way which baffles the person crushing on you). Because of you naturally seeing their authentic self—and you may have somehow expressed this to others already, you have caused others to see this person in a clearer light which affected them positively. Maybe this person crushing on you has given up on showing their true self to others, and you seeing them like this has made them fee at ease. They feel more comfortable with talking/hanging out with the people they do now. They feel more open and transparent, and this has also caused others to somehow treat them better, treat them in the way they may have needed to. Therefore, their life became more fulfilling because of you.

video edit 2 (minus the dark elements lmao. they see you this way as in.. you penetrate their soul. you see right through them its insane. they feel like they really *can’t* lie to you)

3 • Pile Three

They have a crush on you because you straighten them up. You call them out on their bullsh*t, and make them be respectful/act right. You prevent them from slacking off. You motivate them to make sure they better themselves. You motivate them to get their sh*t together. You encourage them to push through their duties & responsibilities. You encourage them to discipline themselves/be disciplined.

You make them see the value in life. Particularly in the mundane, in things that might be “boring”, the things that everyone doesn’t really feel like doing all the time/right away (for ex: chores). You ground them to reality. You make them appreciate life, and become more grateful for the little things, the everyday. 💚☀️

This person that has a crush on you may have been in a depressive state. Not having the most energy, not really enjoying life. Stale would be the word that would describe their energy. Unmoving. But because of you, whether indirectly or not… you found the solution for them. The remedy to make them feel alive again or at least feel better about life. Which was coming back to appreciating, again, the little things 💕

video edit 3.1 [0:00] & 3.2 [0:13] (they literally see you as someone who glares/stares at them like “really?… 😕” its like when you’re misbehaving as a child, then your mother stops telling you to quit doing what you’re doing and instead says nothing/becomes quiet 🤣. also, the starting at ve 3.1 is the energy of how they would be acting towards you internally lmao)

4 • Pile Four

They have a crush on you because you open them up. You show them sides of themselves that they didn’t see before or only now having discovered because of you (LGBTQ+ pile? 👀). You stir up their passion for life. You make them excited to wake up in the morning. You make life a lot more colorful for them. “I never knew it could be this fun”. Hmm… kinda nsfw but you might’ve given them a s*xual awakening 👀👀. You somehow helped them discovered some of their k*nks 👀👀👀👀. If not that, you made them realize what they want from a partner. What they never knew they needed or wanted.

Hmm you made them want to dress up. They may have been someone like “i just wear what’s comfortable, what more can you need? 🤷🏻‍♀️” which is valid, but they may have discovered expressing themselves through clothing because of you. They may also have started working out because of you. Not necessarily to make themselves look good for you, but a part of that is yes, to make themselves look attractive to you. But they changed their mindset towards it (towards working out for example) and they now think that of course its good for your body, but also it feels good. It makes you (scientifically if im not mistaken) feel happier.

video edit 4 [15:27] (you do everything right in their eyes. not necessarily in a rose-colored glasses type of way but… more-so you seem so comfortable in yourself. you know yourself, what looks good for you that it seems like everything you do is perfect. you’re so in your element.)

5 • Pile Five

Hmm.. this might be a little superficial but anyways. They have a crush on you because you're unreal. They've never seen anyone like you before. I'm hearing the lyric "Damn papa you a rare breed, no comparing, and its motherf*cking scary" from Doja Cat's Streets 🤣. Yeah they may even be so enamored by your physical appearance that they may even... objectify you (I'm so sorry guys 😬😬😬, block this h*e 🤢🤢). Yikes maybe that's why I couldn't get one of these edits out of my head for your pile. Specifically the [ve 5.1] Cher Horowitz from the movie Clueless one. There was a scene there in the movie where a guy found Cher to be so attractive (well the guy themselves didn't really do anything seriously bad I would say...) that in a game of kiss and blow, he lead her to kiss him, and was trying to get Cher to be driven home by him even though Cher kept trying to make an excuse so that her friend instead would go with him (well spoilers, cus she was trying to matchmake her friend and the guy). Anyway, in conclusion.. the person on your mind has a crush on you because they think you're... their fantasy/you're so attractive. You may even recall them exhibiting this kind of behavior with you lol. (Mentioning your appearance for example)

video edit 5.1 [1:15] & 5.2 [9:09] (they see you as so seductive. they feel like almost anything you do seduces them. if you do something that may be even a smidge suggestive ((im seeing like biting your pen for example)) they feel like you're doing it on purpose for them!! 🤯)

6 • Pile Six

They have a crush on you because they don't have to pretend anymore. They don't have to act a certain way or express in a certain way for them to get along with someone/to get by. They can be themselves. They can relax with you. They have a crush on you because in some way... you may be the one that they have always been looking for. The kind of connection that they may not even know that they've been wanting. The kind of connection that a part of them was unconsciously hoping for is present with you..is you (they think). You make them feel like they don't have to have their guard up anymore. They... don't have to keep being strong anymore. They can rest even for a while. (I'm seeing like the viscount and the girl from season 2 of Bridgerton) You disarm them, in the best way. In a way where they can purely be themselves. They feel like everything that they have been through and have been continuing to push through in life has finally come to this. They feel like you're a gift from the gods/god/the universe. They're in disbelief but are so happy and grateful inside. "How can someone like you exist..? You're.. you're beautiful". (As in like your being, your humanity, your heart. Not like in pile 5 where it was moreso blinded by their appearance. Not that this person doesn't think you're physically attractive though. You are to them, its just they're heavily drawn to your core being ((or what they perceive to be that))).

video edit 6 [7:24] (you just chilling/existing makes them so giddy for you lmao. Lowkey simping for you LMAOO. Its like you're not even wearing anything special but they'd see you in a certain angle with the shadows & light hitting your face differently and they're like "uGH 😭, i love this person" 🤣🤣)

[gojology]

Job Benefits. (Part 4)

❝...𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑶𝑵, 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑻 𝑰𝑻 𝑶𝑼𝑻.❞

CONSPIRING. - Chapter Four

you can find part three here :

part three : routines

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader warnings : cursing, no proof reading, no editing wordcount : 2494 a/n :  this is so bad, i... i am so sorry. in my defense i haven’t written in a while, but i hope u guys still like this regardless </3

     Almost immediately after stepping foot into the room, you’re greeted with a minimalist, yet clean looking interior. Large window panes with Tokyo’s beautiful sunlight filtering into the already lively room.     There’s a few co-workers you can see sitting by the vending machines on plush arm-rest chairs, the cushions colored a beautiful tan alongside oak wood arm rests and chair legs. Others are on their phone, texting and furiously tapping and a feeling of anxiety immediately eats you up whole. You were seriously starting to regret coming down here, what was the point other then to make Gojo jealous? You could’ve very well eaten in your office- and what you were doing was childish anyways.      You stood in the entrance way of the room, nervously fidgeting, eyes scanning for Keto Sugaeru amongst the faces that were starting to blend in. You can only vaguely remember how he looks like from the few visits he had made to Gojo’s office, jet black hair, usually tied in a bun, always a kind, yet careless smirk on his face. He was handsome, which would be a definitive beacon amongst the rather disgruntled looking office workers.     “Hey, are you gonna move or what? Blocking the damn way.”     You hear a gruff impatient voice behind you, and you twist around, stumbling with the newfound height of your high heels as you did so. A man’s eyes bored into your own, glaring at you with a mix of hatred and annoyance. You gulp, finding yourself unable to respond, instead averting your gaze to the floor meekly.    “You gonna talk? We don’t have all day, sheesh, they’re hiring anyone into the workforce nowadays huh-”      “I’m sorry- I uh, I’m r-really new here so...” modestly giving the man a kind smile, but he seemed to have no patience for you.     As if a divine being heard his rude comment and immediately swept down with some karma, a firm, large hand is placed onto the man’s shoulder that you hadn’t seen prior. It gripped the flesh tightly, and the mysterious man glared directly down at the now squeaking rude one.      “Did I hear that right?” is all he says, a few co-workers are twisting their heads towards the altercation, now you’re sweating bullets. You grip onto your lunch so tightly you’re afraid it might burst, and those incredibly long fingers of his are inching towards the stout man’s collar.     Eventually, the perplexing man smiles kindly, retracting his hands to his sides, now lifeless and slack. “Please, Nishima, refrain from picking on people. We don’t tolerate this in the office, and don’t be dumb enough to do it in front of someone who has direct connections to the Gojo family. Run along now, I’ll leave you off at a warning. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”     The man grumbled a few times, kicking at the floor before heading out, you turn your head to thank the man, looking at him with an admirable gaze, but you realize something-      He has the jet black long hair you were searching for before any of this happened, it’s tied up in a bun, and it looked ridiculously smooth and soft. Something you’d pay to drag your hands through and play with. He has that carefree grin displayed on his handsome features, shamelessly showing off his good looks. Tall, and he definitely had a familiar voice that took you a while to put a finger on it.     This had to be him.      “You frozen girlie? I haven’t seen you around in the lunch room- here go sit there, that seat’s super comfy.” he gestures to one chair, and you snap out of your trance, nodding in response, yet still unable to fully register what just happened to you.      “Sugaeru?” you blurt out, your eyes wide while stumbling like a just born fawn towards the spotless table. How good was your luck today? He came to you.      “Suguru.” he corrects, looking back at you, a teasing curve to his lips. “Holy, you completely butchered my name, I think I know you from somewhere-” for a second, he looks like he’s seriously thinking before he beams. “You’re Gojo’s secretary, Y/N, aren’t you? What brings you down here? Gojo told me that you’re usually reserved in your own little world and you do everything in your office.”      You stammer, still unable to believe your luck, but your shoulders are relaxing and the tension has completely evaporated into thin air. “Uh, yeah I’m Satoru’s secretary. I- Um, I wanted to... Get some water?” that was a horrible lie, even for you.      “Rookie mistake.” Suguru pulls out the aforementioned chair for you before walking to the other side of the table to place his lunch on the tabletop carefully. “Water here is super overpriced. You should bring some from your own house if that’s the case! Colleague to colleague, just don’t tell anyone I said that, or else I’ll get in trouble.” winking at you, he twists the lid to his container presumably holding his food, instantaneously a cloud of steam emerges and a delicious scent wafts through the room.     After a moment of silence between the two of you as you both opened your lunches, you clear your throat, meaning to make conversation. “Thank you for saving me back there.” sheepishly, you smile at him. “It’s really appreciated, I just couldn’t believe how rude a person could be, especially since u-uh... You know, he could’ve, like, just walked around me?” stuttering, you grab your utensils in an effort to look relaxed and comfortable, even though you had no idea how to speak to him.     “Atta girl, no problem.” he responds warmly. You feel safe in his shadow. “Hey, if your Gojo’s friend, you’re my friend. Don’t worry about it. I heard you’re new to the office.” he pauses, looking around the now bustling room before covering the sides of his mouth and whispering towards you. “Secretary position was open for a while because no sane person in Tokyo wants to be Gojo’s secretary.” sitting back down while snickering, he takes a bite out of his lunch.      Giggling, you finally ease up. As opposed to Gojo, Suguru’s more sincere and straight to the point. He’s funny in his own way without being obnoxious.      You scoff. “Yeah, I can see how anyone could go insane from working with the guy. It was the only good secretary position open, though...” you muse aloud.      Suguru crosses his arm over his chest, your eyes carefully surveying his attractive figure as he does so, a thoughtful smile on his face. “Well, imagine being friends with him for more than 15 years. I’m sure I’ve gotten a few screws loose.” he says suggestively, wriggling his eyebrows.      You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh- but it just spills out of your lips, and you forget that you just met the guy, that’s just how friendly he was. “Don’t say that!”      “What? It’s true!”     You didn’t quite know it just that, but a seed was planted that day- you and Geto’s relationship, and it would only blossom from there.  ‧₊˚✩彡.     Gojo’s paranoid.     It seems like there’s a secret that he’s not in on, he realizes that Geto’s visits to his office are growing more and more frequent, yet he spends less time at his office, rather, spends all of his time at yours. Feeling left out was never a positive emotion. In response, Gojo would increase his visiting between the two of you, “accidentally” walking in on the both of you casually chatting, but it’s like he’s a ghost in the room. He’d get a few lukewarm stares and a few polite greetings, but that was that.     He’s not sure if it’s jealousy, or what.      He knows he should be supportive of his best friend potentially getting a girlfriend, and he tries to be- but something about Geto and you together really pissed him off, he just doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the way the pairing between you two seemed so natural, it would be almost sure that a relationship would occur soon that angered him. Having dating co-workers was almost never a good thing.      Deep down he knows that’s not it.      As the weeks past by, the visiting grew almost unbearable, hearing your laughter- your giggles- from jokes that weren’t from him was infuriating. Listening to the repetitive clicking of your heels down the stairs into the break room was driving him insane, and eventually he can’t even open an email or do anything involved with work. You and Geto were constantly on his mind, and he’s morbidly curious as to when the friendship occurred- or if it was possibly more than that.    His first attempt at getting to the bottom of things was bringing it up between the two of them, him and Geto, just as casual chit-chat, but it didn’t go exactly as planned.      Geto would have a sympathetic, almost mocking grin on his lips, but those eyes of his were telling enough. It was a whole other book of lust and need, for you. Brushing the topic off with a wave of dismissal, he’d chuckle and put a mask of friendliness on, but Gojo’s known Geto enough to see where this was going.      He couldn’t have this, everything was brought to him on a silver platter, so it was only natural for him to feel like he needs you, even if he didn’t. Perhaps you were another trophy to his endless collection to him, he just didn’t know. He’d never felt so strongly of a woman, much less his secretary, something was brewing inside of him.    One thing he doesn’t understand is why Geto. He’s flawless in appearance, restless, impossibly good at sex, why weren’t you stroking his ego? Whatever, this was another topic of conversation, what he needed to do now was win you back.     He calculated in his office the average time in which Geto would visit, music drowning out the muffled talking, and finally he’s ready and absolutely certain that this would be a good time to chat you up. Having everything planned out, an aura of confidence radiated from him.      “Y/N!” you hear a chirp from the door, lifting your head up in excitement, you realize it’s not your beloved Suguru, rather, it’s Gojo. Gluing your eyes back on your computer screen, not even bothering to peel them away, you clear your throat in acknowledgement. “Sir?”      A smug grin flickers across his face for just a second before he pulls out one of the chairs across from your desk, scooching it a bit further away for some extra leg room before promptly sitting down. “Knew you’d remember to call me sir, I knew I hired well when you stepped into the interview room, so sharp.”     You don’t detect a shred of sarcasm in his compliment, and finally you turn your gaze upon his face. This was certainly out of the ordinary for you, as he hadn’t visited as often with Geto in the picture now. Gojo’s not wearing the iconic black shades that concealed his cerulean eyes, now, they’re out for you- his private audience.     His eyes are brimming with energy and mischief, almost like a child’s. They’re transfixing, like diamonds handpicked and placed into his eyes. You’re overwhelmed from your work once again- a direct consequence of Gojo neglecting his own, yet something about this greeting reminded you of one of the first few times he had visited you, when he stole your carrot pen. Thus, causing you to direct your undivided attention towards him, he seemed promising, after all, what was the worst that could happen?     “That’s besides the point, Mr. Satoru. Is there any reason why you came here? I’m actually finishing up a report right now and the deadline is in two days.” taking your coffee mug up from it’s usual spot on the tabletop, you sigh in relief as the warm liquid goes down your throat and set it back down, anticipating his answer.     In usual fashion, Gojo chuckles good-heartedly. “It’s your fourth month anniversary you’ve been working here, or third, or second, fuck like I remember. This is a cause for celebration and you’re worrying about finishing up a report?”    “You’d know better then to come to me with an offer of slacking off if you knew my fourth month anniversary of working here was coming up.” you respond coolly.     His eyes slightly widen, before he lets out a dry chuckle. “Ah, I missed my sassy secretary, say, why don’t we celebrate? We can go out for a staff dinner in celebration. I’ll pay, no need to worry. It’ll be confidential information between the two of us.” tugging at his collar, he quirks an eyebrow, you’re visibly thinking.      “Does this imply you want this dinner to only be between the two of us? Why’s that?” you pry, a tinge of hesitance in your pitch.     Ah, shit. This was going off the tracks.     Gojo taking a hand to his chest defensively, he loudly announced, “It’s important to build a positive connection between the two of us! We’ll be working together for years to come, of course. So skeptical of you, why do you look so down?” the retort was cheeky, and good at that, as it left you speechless.     “I’m not sad, or anything-” you pause, your mind had gone blank. “I- Um... I-” attempting to return to your work instead, you give him a dirty look, but he stares back with such intensity you don’t know how to feel. “I’m doing work, don’t screw up my train of thought, please?”    “You definitely weren’t saying that when I offered to take you out to eat, come on, spit it out.” he tsks. Utterly defeated, you sigh.     “I wanted to invite someone.” you spit out, obviously embarrassed.     Gojo pretends to act shocked, before excitedly inquiring, “And who might that be?”     “G-Geto.” there was no point in lying now.    He oohs, looking down at your shaking hands and back up at your face. “Ooooh, Y/N has a crush on my best bud? Who woulda thought!?”    Your cheeks going warm, you shake your head furiously. “No I don’t! I- Mr. S- Sir! This is so unprofessional of you!” stuttering, you drop your head on the desk, arms pillowing the sides of your head and groaning.     “How cute. Anyways, you accept that dinner date?”     You lift your head back up, sniffling. “It’s not a date!”    Giving you a shit-eating grin again, his eyes twinkle. “Oh, but it is.”    “I- Aghhhhh!” putting your head back down on the desk, this time without your arms, you don’t know how to respond, so instead you make a mockery of yourself.    Laughing, Gojo decides not to tease and you and instead says, “Meet me in Shibuya district, there’s a super nice restaurant, I’ll drive to your house, no need to worry about transportation. 9 PM, see you there!” his voice grew more distant down the hallway, you can still hear the clicking of his shoes and his deep humming.     So you had a date tonight,     Now how would that go?

[midnightsnyx]

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 5

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child. 

a/n: surprise!!! it’s part 5!! i wont be home sunday so i wanted to post this today. i’m really iffy on this part because i wrote and rewrote a lot of the scenes because i wasn’t happy with it and i’m still not 100% happy with it but if i keep picking it over i’ll end up deleting the entire thing and rewriting it from scratch

but yeah i hope u guys like it & thanks again sooooo much for the love on this story <3 you guys rock.

word count: 2.6K

warnings: swearing, angst w/ a lil fluff again and bad editing lol

ALSO the first part in italics is a flashback to before Matt missed the appointment! 

Part 5

“You’ve gotta stop moping, man.” Noah said, bumping his shoulder against Matt’s during morning practice.

Matt knew he was moping but he couldn’t get you out of his head and it was driving him nuts. He was attracted to you the moment you met even though you hated him, but lately something was different. He wasn’t sure if it’s from seeing you carry his child but the past couple months, you were all he could think about.

And it drove him insane.

“I’m not.” He mumbled, attempting to deny his teammates statement. Noah didn’t buy it though, because he grinned.

“You, me, and drinks?” He pointed at Matt. “Tonight at 9. We’re getting you laid.”

Matt forced a smile and nodded, knowing that Noah wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed.

“The ultrasound is in the morning though so I can’t stay out late.” Matt reminded him.

“We’ll have you back in time for the appointment.” Noah promised and Matt believed him which was why the hurt on your face the next morning broke him.

. . .

21 weeks

“Noah Hanifin is at your front door.” Becca says, looking through the peephole before turning to look at you. Piled under a mountain of blankets with tissues surrounding you and an empty tub of ice cream sitting on the coffee table, you‘re the perfect picture of a broken heart.

You have been dodging calls and texts from Matthew for the past two weeks but in the last couple days, he’s been radio silent and you’re not sure if it hurts more, or less.

“Tell Noah Hanifin to fuck off.” You mutter, trying to dig yourself deeper in the pile of blankets. You know why Noah is here and it pisses you off.

Becca opens the door a little and you can see Noah standing there, holding a bag and looking uncomfortable.

“Can I help you with something?” Becca asks shortly and Noah sighs.

“Good to see you too, Becs.”

Becca’s shoulders tighten and you know without seeing her face that she is glaring at him. “What do you want, Hanifin?”

He hands her the bag he was holding. “This is for Y/N. It’s from Matt. He says he’s sorry.” Then he looks at you. “He’s in bad shape.”

You know he’s in bad shape because even though you’re hurt and angry, you’ve been watching his games. He’s being careless, taking stupid penalties, picking fights more than normal and you know he hasn’t been getting much sleep because there are bags under his eyes.

So you don’t need Noah Fucking Hanifin to tell you that Matthew’s in bad shape.

“That’s not my problem.”

“Oh come on, Y/N.” Noah says a little too harshly for your liking. “He fucked up, he knows that. Cut him some slack, he’s twenty two and he’s about to be a fucking father. He’s scared!”

“And I’m about to be a mother!” You snap. “He doesn’t think I’m scared?”

Noah groans in frustration. “Look. It was my fault, okay? I talked Matt in to going out that night because I wanted him to stop moping over you.”

You try to ignore his comment about Matt moping over you but your voice is unsteady when you answer him.

“Matt is a big boy, Noah. He can make his own decisions and he made the wrong one.” You watch Noah’s face fall. “Stop trying to stick up for him.”

Noah shakes his head and sighs. “You should cut him some slack. It was my fault.”

You watch as he leaves without saying another word. When he’s gone and Becca shuts the door behind him, she turns to face you.

“He doesn’t deserve forgiveness just because Hanifin ‘talked’ him in to going out and getting drunk. He made that choice.”

You slowly nod, watching as she walks to your kitchen preparing to throw the bag Noah dropped off in the garbage. You’re not sure what prompts you to stop her but you call out before she throws it out.

“Wait.”

She looks at you with a raised brow. “What?”

“Let me see what he brought.”

You know she’s pissed, but she brings it over and hands it to you.

“I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” She says and you nod, watching as she walks down the hallway. When she’s out of sight, you peak in the bag.

The first thing you see is a chocolate bar. It’s your favourite, and you’re surprised he remembered. There’s some candy and a box of popcorn and your lips turn up in a tiny smile when you pull out a movie.

It’s What to Expect When You’re Expecting, the movie you were very against watching because of how unrealistic it would be compared to actual childbirth. There’s a little sticky note that says, you should watch this even though it’s totally not accurate.

Then, at the very bottom of the bag, there’s a bigger note and you want to ignore it like you’ve done with every text he’s sent you but you read it out of curiosity.

Y/N,

 I know that I can’t make up for missing the appointment and I know there’s nothing I can say to make it better so all I’m going to do is say sorry. I am so, so sorry and I know I keep saying that and they are only words but it’s all I can think of to say.

So I’m sorry and I hope that you can forgive me soon because I miss you and I want to be there for you without having to ask my mom for updates on how you are. Please call me, or even text me. I just want to know how you’re doing.

 Matt

 You’re sniffling by the time you’ve read the note but when you hear Becca approaching, you wipe away the tears and shove the paper back in the bag.

“What did he give you?” She questions, sitting on the couch next to you.

You don’t want to tell her about the note so you just shrug. “A movie.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.” You lie. “Will you watch it with me?”

“Sure.” She says, taking the movie from you and putting it in to the DVD player before returning to the couch and curling up on the opposite side of the couch.

You try to focus on the movie but you can’t get Matt’s note and Noah’s words out of your head. You’re confused from what Noah said about Matthew ‘moping’ over you. The two of you were friends and you used that term loosely. If it wasn’t for the baby, you know you never wouldn’t have gotten so close to him. You never would have gotten to know the side of him that the rest of the world has never seen. You wouldn’t have learned how terrible he is at cooking but how gentle he can be.

But you also wouldn’t be in this situation right now. By yourself and pregnant with a broken heart.

So you’re not sure what hurts more. The thought of never having known him the way you do or having your heart broken.

. . .

22 weeks

Johnny: I’m really sorry to bother you but can you please come pick Matt up? He’s in bad shape and he won’t go home unless its to you.

It’s this text that has you standing outside a bar that Matt and the guys are. For Johnny to text you, you know that it must be bad and you’re proven right when the doors open and Noah and Johnny carry an extremely wasted Matthew Tkachuk out. You’re not sure he’s even awake until he lifts his head when Noah shakes him.

“Y/N’s here, bud.”

His eyes are closed but they open when he hears your name and his face lights up and he shrugs the boys off, stumbling towards you. He’s unsteady so you reach out to steady him, grateful when he doesn’t put much weight on you.

“You’re here.” He breathes and you nod slowly.

“And you’re drunk.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m sober as a judge!”

You hear Noah chuckle but you don’t react to him, pulling Matt’s arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon. Lets go home.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Noah calls out and you’re still pissed at him so you don’t bother looking back.

“Yeah.”

You get Matt in your car without a problem and when you start the drive back to your apartment, you try to ignore how he’s staring at you but it feels like he’s burning holes in the side of your head.

“What?” You mutter eventually and you see him shrug out of the corner of your eye.

“’m surprised you came to pick me up. I know you hate me.” He mumbles and you sigh.

“I don’t hate you.” You tell him, “I was angry with you. And I had every right to be.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers quietly and when you glance at him, he’s no longer looking at you. He is staring at his hands and you notice the cuts from the fight he got in to at today’s game. It was a heavy loss and had a lot to do with how many penalties Matt took. They were dumb penalties, all of which he never would have taken if his head was in the game. You know it’s not entirely your fault but you still can’t help but feel a little guilty because you know he’s playing like this because you haven’t been talking to him.

“I know.” You say, pulling in to the parking lot of your apartment building. You could have very well dropped Matt off at his house but you know he’s too drunk and leaving him by himself could be dangerous.

He’s sobered up a little by the time you’re in your apartment. You make him drink a couple glasses of water before guiding him to your bathroom so he can brush his teeth with his toothbrush he keeps at your apartment and when you give him clothes that he keeps here too, you realize how much time he really spent here.

“I can sleep on the couch.” He says and everything in you is screaming to agree but he just looks so tired and you know he won’t get a wink of sleep on that couch so you shake your head.

“It’s fine.” you say, ignoring the small look of hope on his face, instead sending him out of the bathroom so you can get ready. You take your time, hoping that he will be asleep when you go to your bedroom but you find him laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t look at your face when you settle on the bed next to him but you do notice his eyes flicker to your stomach before you pull the blanket over you.

“It’s bigger.” He says.

“What?”

“Your stomach.” He clarifies. “It’s getting bigger.”

“Well that’s what happens when you’re growing a human being inside you.” You remind him and his lips turn up in a small smile.

“Y/N-” He starts to say but you cut him off.

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

He looks disappointed but he’s still drunk enough that you’re not comfortable having the conversation the two of you need to have. There are things that need to be worked out and said and you don’t want him to only remember half of it.

So you watch him nod and drift off before letting yourself fall asleep.

. . .

You wake the next morning before Matt. He snoring quietly and his back is to you which makes getting out of bed easier. He’ll be hungover for sure, so you decide to make breakfast while you wait for him to wake up. You’re also trying to think of what exactly you’re going to say to him.

You don’t know if you have it in you to still be so angry at him. He messed up and it’s not something you’ll ever forget but Noah made a good point when he said that Matt is only 23. You’re both still so young and about to be parents and despite wanting him to be perfect and never mess up, you can’t expect him to be.

“Hey.”

You turn to see Matt walking in to the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey.” You reply, turning back to the stove. You can hear him sit down on a bar stool and he’s quiet for a moment before speaking up.

“Thank you.” He says softly and it surprises you because you were expecting him to say sorry again.

“You didn’t have to come pick me up last night but you did.”

You shrug, turning around to look at him. “I know you would’ve done the same.”

“I would.” He says. “And I know you’re tired of me saying it but I am really sorry I missed the appointment. I promised I would be there and I let you down.”

You nod, walking over and sitting next to him. “You did, but I’m starting to think that I was too hard on you. You made a mistake, we all do.”

“I swear I’ll never miss one again.” He promises.

“Good, because I’ll shun you if you do.” You chirp and he grins.

After breakfast, the two of you are watching hockey replays and Matt is quietly talking to the baby. You can’t hear exactly what he’s saying but suddenly he looks up and grins.

“Can we tell everyone now? I thought we could make up an Instagram post or something.”

“I may already have one prepared.” You admit sheepishly and his smile lights up the room.

[r3almellow]

MLQC Boys And The Domestic Life

I kept this as PG-13 as possible.  You guys know I can be a little...naughty with my HC’s but I know that isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so I try not to do too much. I apologize if you were hoping something else! Apologies for the typos and such! 

Warning: Slight Spoilers for those who know nothing about their backstories or current events!

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Kiro

Kiro’s life is crazy enough as it is, so coming home to you is a nice change of pace. No cameras flashing in his face, no overly excited fans, and no manager to hound him about what he can and can’t eat. It’s just you and him just the way he likes it.

Your boy is a gamer and will always try to pull you into whatever he’s playing. 

He will buy a lot of two player games just so you can play with him. 

If its a single player game you enjoy watching him play! He’ll even offer to teach you how to play!

Since he’s also a huge fan of comics he’ll talk your ear off about them! 

Bonus points if you’re a comic book lover and/or a gamer too! 

Will fall even more in love with you if you go out of your way to buy things he’s interested in. 

“I got you this limited edition Iron Man statue! Like it?” 

He’ll marry you right then and there! 

Kiro is very playful so expect tons of play fights! Tickle fights, pillow fights, and wrestling which...turns into....you know....

Kiro enjoys going grocery shopping with you. Of course he has to be in disguise in order to shop with you in peace, but he enjoys the company while he buys things that would get him into trouble with Savin. 

However, Savin has nothing to worry about when it comes to Kiro’s eating habits, because while you’re pretty lenient with Kiro and often him join his mischievous activities, you do a great job with following his diet routine. 

You’ll sometimes join him on his diets to support him. Its hard on you, especially when the sight of french fries makes your mouth water. 

“See, honey, drinking a protein shake isn’t so bad!” 

“But I want a milkshake, barbecued ribs and a nice juicy burger!!!!” Poor baby just wants to eat!

You’re normally the one that cooks mainly because Kiro never has time to do it himself and almost always settles for something quick or whatever his nutritionist shoves down his throat.  If he does have time off you both cook together. 

If Kiro ends up breaking his diet you join him on his workouts. Kiro doesn’t mind because there’s something about you being all sweaty and panting heavily that really gets him going. 

 “I’m sweaty and gross...” 

“What a coincidence?! I’m all sweaty and gross too! Lets take a shower together.” 

In the bedroom, Kiro is definitely a cuddler and it doesn’t matter who cuddles first as long as he can feel you against him. 

Because of his busy schedule Kiro becomes extremely needy. Both in the sexual and non-sexual sense. He hates being away from you for too long and calls you almost everyday while he’s away. 

He’ll be in the middle of rehearsals while FaceTiming you and Savin is like “BOY IF YOU DON’T STOP WITH THAT PUPPY LOVE BS AND FINISH THIS DANCE NUMBER I’LL...” 

If your relationship isn’t public yet, Kiro won’t do too much, but he will steal kisses when he thinks no one is looking. You two have been caught fooling around by Savin a few times, which always ends with him scolding you both. 

But once you go public, EXPECT TONS OF KISSES AND HUGS ANYWHERE AND EVERYWHERE! THIS MAN DOESN’T CARE. 

He wants the world to know how much he loves you and will continue to broadcast it until hell freezes over. 

Will put his fans in their place if they try anything with you. Your sunshine ain’t afraid to lay down the law!

Top 3 Pet Names: Miss Chips, Honey, and Cutie. Honorable Mention: Cookie

Gavin

As you know, Gavin’s upbringing wasn’t exactly the best and seeing what his mom went through, he never wants to put you through that. 

This man practically worships you! You’re everything he’s ever wanted in a partner so he’ll do anything to keep you in his life and happy. 

Casual dates. Nothing too fancy unless its a special occasion like a birthday or maybe....a wedding proposal?! 

Aside from that, Gavin’s pretty simple and often lets you take the lead which you find infuriating since you want him to have some sort of input in decision making when it comes to little things.

Gavin is the cook of the household mainly because you think he’s the better cook. If you make such claims, Gavin will always say that he prefers to eat whatever you make.

In bed, Gavin likes to hold you tightly from behind with his faced buried in your hair. His favorite position is where you’re hugging him and he has his head pressed against your chest. Its easier to hear your heartbeat that way. 

If you stroke his hair while holding him then he’s a goner. He’ll be out like a light and you’ll just watch how adorable he looks sleeping against you.

Days where you’re both home are referred to as “Lazy Days.” You’ll sit around, do absolutely nothing, and enjoy each other’s company. You may wash Sparky after its gone through a full week of riding through the city, but sometimes the laziness is just too strong. 

Doesn’t help when Gavin has you in his arms. The entire day can escape you when you’re in such a comfortable position. 

As for PDA, this man doesn’t care who’s watching! If he feels like kissing you then he’ll kiss you and he’s all about hand holding. If you’re uncomfortable with such gestures then he’ll refrain from doing so.

Until you say otherwise, you will be getting a lot of affection out in the open! If people glare, then he’ll just glare right back and go back to loving on you. 

Being in love with you and not caring what people think isn’t a crime, right?! 

Obviously, he won’t do anything too wild, but Gavin can be a bit mischievous when he wants to be. 

He’s not as bad as Kiro in the cheeky department, but a lot of the “accidental” touches aren’t accidents at all! 

Always your protector. Is always up for kicking someone’s ass if they look at you funny. He’d go to jail for you or...at least make whatever he’s about to do look like an accident.

Clingy Baby #2!

When he’s gone for long periods of time, he clings on to you and never lets you go once he returns. 

Holding you in his arms while you’re trying to cook, casually playing with your hands as the two of you watch TV, and heated make out sessions that often end in a night of passion. 

No one would have guessed Gavin could turn into a touch starved crazy man. But could you blame him? The things he has to go through on missions really puts him in a mood. He needs your love and affection after a long mission. 

Prefers to spoil you instead of the other way around, but let’s you pamper him. He hasn’t been shown any form of affection since his mother died, so bare with him! 

Gavin has never told you this outright, but you’re the closest thing to a home he has ever had in a very long time. Wherever you are, he wants to be right by your side. 

Top 3 Pet Names:  Babe/Baby, Beautiful, and Angel

Victor

Victor loves taking you out whether its to nice restaurants or out of the country. 

Has no problem dropping thousands on you because you deserve the world. You’ll have to tell him to calm down with how much he spoils you, but he most likely won’t listen. 

Of course he’s not completely insane and has some level of restraint. 

Ever the professional, there is a difference between how Victor treats you at work compared to when you’re home. 

He always wants you to be at your best and doesn’t want you slacking off just because you’re with him.  

At home, Victor is a way more affectionate with you. The first few times he pulled you in for a loving embrace or a kiss, you had to do a double take. This isn’t the cold-hearted CEO who picked a part your report and verbally ripped it to shreds just hours before!

Victor does most of the cooking, but if you want to help him he won’t complain. Just listen to the directions he gives you and he won’t critique you.

He does appreciate it when you cook for him. Sometimes you’ll wake up before him just to prepare a nice breakfast and his heart just swells at the sight of you doing your best to make scrambled eggs. 

“Its a little runny, but edible.” Wow...thank’s, honey. 

Victor loves taking you to Souvenir so he can cook for you. Lunch dates and dinner dates are sometimes had there. 

Sleeping wise, Victor will entwine his fingers with yours and hold your hand over his chest as he sleeps on his back and you sleep on your side. He will never admit it, but he’s a big fan of being the big spoon especially after a night of intimacy. 

Will teach you French if you ask! Will sometimes tease you by throwing out random French phrases and if you figure out what he says he’ll give you a reward!

TRIPLE POINTS IF YOU RESPOND BACK IN FRENCH. Leave him shook!

Your man is a workaholic! You sometimes have to convince him to sleep after he spends countless hours working. Even on his days off his eyes are either glued to his phone or his computer. 

He’ll be reluctant, but he’ll drop whatever he’s doing if you’re adamant about him getting rest or spending time with you.  

If he’s already in bed looking over paperwork you can just snuggle up to him to distract him from what he’s doing. Of course he’ll complain, but all of that stops the minute he wraps his arms around you. 

Victor isn’t one for too much PDA, but he will do small things. 

For example, you’ll be at a company event, he’ll squeeze your hand gently and kiss the back of it just to see you blush.

Speaking of events, you attend all of the banquets with him. Everyone knows who you are and who you’re with. They won’t dare try any funny business with you.

 There is a big part of him that likes to brag about you to his business associates. 

“They saved a dying company through hard work and determination, has to deal with me on a daily basis, and continues to persevere even when the odds are against them. They’re one of a kind.” 

Top 3 Pet Names: Idiot/Dummy, Dear and Darling(Victor normally uses nicknames when you’re in an intimate setting and very rarely) 

Lucien

Ever since he was young Lucien has known nothing but hardships and just how cruel and twisted the world was. 

Having you in his life really changes his perspective on the world. Who would have thought that a man like him would have someone as precious as you in his life?

Your dates consist of art exhibits, aquariums, and picnics in the park. Honestly Lucien prefers private and more intimate dates with you. It gives him a chance to learn more about you and to really focus on you without the distraction of the outside world. 

You cook together and its pretty much a perfect balance. You learn different recipes together and think of it as a bonding experience.

You often visit him on campus for lunch dates and to work on whatever project you’ve roped him into. 

You’re not sure why, but his students practically adore you. You’ve heard them whisper about your future with the popular professor. Talks of marriage often fills the room whenever they catch wind of you being on campus for the day. 

You find it embarrassing, but Lucien only laughs off the murmurs of his students. 

They have active imaginations, but he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t think of spending the rest of his life with you.

Lucien is fine with PDA. He’ll hold your hand and give you gentle kisses. He’ll tease you a lot!! There’s never a time where he doesn’t have you blushing. 

He enjoys catching you off guard! Lucien will even go as far as to steal a quick kiss while you’re rambling about how much stress you’re under with work. 

Lucien’s favorite thing to do with you is to relax in a nice warm bubble bath. It only turns steamy 70% of the time but Lucien truly enjoys little intimate moments like that with you. 

When it comes to sleeping, Lucien really likes it when you’re sleeping against him with your head on his chest and he has an arm around your torso.

He also likes listening to your steady breaths as you sleep. There’s something soothing about how calm you sound in your most vulnerable state. He sleeps a thousand times better when you’re with him.  

Lucien appreciates how accepting you are of him despite the fact that he’s done a lot of harm in the past. 

You trust that Lucien will never hurt you and while he knows this, he sometimes feels like he has a lot to prove. 

Deceiving you is his biggest regret and if you continue to love him, Lucien will devote his life to making you happy.

Top 3 Pet Names: My Little Fool, Love, and Silly

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Done! I really hope you like it! Want to read more of my stuff?! Please go to my MLQC masterlist here!

[mrscolesprouse]

Bughead and Friends Drabble Challenge: May Edition @bugheaddrabblechallenge

Day 7/Prompt 3: Can’t Handle It

(Optional) Genre: Workplace Drama

and let’s finish this off with some lovely smut! this challenge has been super super fun! it really tested my writing abilities and made me expand myself into different genres! can’t wait to play again!

*all the drabbles should be posted on Ao3 within the next few days :)*

! EXPLICIT !

Jughead wraps his hands around her thighs as they come around his waist. He pushes her further into the wall of the supply closet and she arches her back in delight as he sucks a string of light hickeys into her neck, not harsh enough to leave a deep purple bruise like he so desperately craves, but hard enough that it will hurt for a couple of hours.

Good. He wants her to feel him against her skin as she sits at her desk. As she walks into a meeting with her consultants. As she types an article on her laptop.

He wants that visual reminder that she’s his, just as he’s hers. He wants people to know she’s taken, even if they can’t know it’s by him.

He quickly unbuckles the button of her skirt and drops her legs onto the ground so that he can push her skirt down hastily, dragging her panties with it. She runs her fingers through his hair as he gets onto his knees and makes no stop before devouring her center. He looks up at her, her head thrown back, her lip between her teeth trying so desperately to keep her moans down.

It’s making him so hard.

But they don’t have time. Their break ends in ten minutes. He wants to use every single millisecond to drive her insane.

He can’t handle seeing her all done up in her work clothes. No. Not when he saw her clad in his shirt this morning, riding him into oblivion before kissing him goodbye to go and get changed back at her apartment for work.

Every time he looks at her—her blonde locks pushed back to show not a single flaw on her perfect face, her white blouse that may as well be labeled see-through, her tight grey knee-length sensible skirt that drives him up the wall in lust—he wants to kiss her, fuck her, love her. He wants everyone to know that he’s the lucky sonofabitch she takes home every day.

But they work together. He’s technically her boss.

He doesn’t want anyone to think she has special privileges because she’s riding his dick. She’s a special, incredible, talented individual all on her own, who doesn’t need anybody, let alone a man, to help her on her feet. She doesn’t want people to think that she’s sleeping with him to keep her job. He doesn’t want that either.

So they keep it a secret.

And normally he can keep himself together. Normally he waits until they go back to his or her apartment to unravel her, tell her how much he appreciates her, but after her swift exit from his apartment this morning and her ass looking fabulous in that skirt, he couldn’t help himself.

So, he strokes himself under his slacks as he buries his face between her legs, pushing her higher and higher until she’s exploding on his face and he’s exploding on his hand, catching his cum so it doesn’t get all over him.

Betty bites her lip as he pulls his hand out of his pants, looking at the mess he’s made with a hungry look in her eye.

When she’s back at her desk, redressed and put back together, she looks over at him as he walks towards his office and she licks her lips, licking him off them.

He feels his pants tighten again.

He doesn’t know if he can handle this secret any longer.

[sugaabooga]

Chance | 4

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, rich!Seokjin, rich!Jimin

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: like one curse word, PG-13

Synopsis: Seokjin had no problem of getting girls and also had no problem of getting rid of them. One girl after the next. So why was it that you - a middle-class citizen - was an exception? You - a middle-class citizen - made Seokjin question if he really did have it all. But one thing’s for sure. He didn’t have any of your chances.

Should I?

No. You look weak.

But. . . should I still?

She’s middle class.

Seokjin groans, flopping onto his back and throwing his phone somewhere across his blankets, frustrated from his internal debate.

Why was he even contemplating whether or not to text you? Girls were always a come and go for Seokjin. As soon as he deemed a girl “boring” he would move on. 

But that was the exact thing that made him stick to you. You weren’t boring. Every moment with you was new and different. The more he talked to you, the more curious he became.

Previously, the qualifications Seokjin set for his future wife were just three things.

Appearance, reputation, and status.

Seokjin had to admit that you were quite beautiful. It is only due to the fact that you put little to no makeup, always have a messy bun, and often hide behind a pair of glasses that initially fooled Seokjin into thinking you did not meet his standards. However, he quickly saw that behind all that, your bare face was a beauty.

Your reputation was not well-known, Seokjin now realizes. His only eyewitness was the threatening statement from his brother, Jimin, who shared that you were his long-time friend. Right off the bat, Seokjin assumed you were the elite upper class of Korea due to Jimin’s habit of speaking highly of you.

The day Seokjin finally asked about your parents, he came to the shocking realization that you were indeed not of high, elite status. Due to his short, impulsive thinking, Seokjin became so consumed with the fact that you were merely middle class whom he shared months of a relationship with that he immediately called it off. Now as he looks back, Seokjin knows that you mean more to him than just a mistake or a casual fling. You were the first girl he met that he wanted to know more of, the one who made him flustered, the one he wanted to fight for.

Heck, you were the only girl that he had a relationship with for over a month.

Seokjin sits up on his bed with a slight grunt, reaching over his wide mattress to grab his tossed phone.

Seokjin: Hey. . .

Seokjin starts typing then shakes his head.

Seokjin: Can we meet at Yumi’s?

Seokjin huffs, deeming the meeting location to be a bad choice. Too many people, too many distractions. . . Yumi’s just would not be a good place to try wooing a girl back to him.

Seokjin: Meet me in front of the library near your workplace.

Seokjin’s thumb hovers over the blue arrow as he contemplates whether or not to send his message. Is it too sudden? Too demanding? Shameless?

Well, he was a pretty shameless person.

No. That’s not the concept he’s going for. 

Seokjin quickly deletes the message and rolls onto his back, hopelessly staring at his high ceiling for a solid minute before jumping up as if a light bulb lit up above his head.

He glances at the time and nods to himself, knowing it was almost for you to get off of work.

Seokjin hastily changes into a turtleneck and slacks, shoves his arms through a coat and hurries out his penthouse door.

__

Meanwhile, a loud crack resonates within your tiny cubicle as your droopy eyes lazily glance over at the bottom right corner of the desktop computer. You were working overtime.

Again.

“Take a break,” Jina, one of your fellow co-workers suggests with an encouraging smile as she gets ready to leave after working an extra two hours herself.

You shake your head in exhaustion. “I wish. But Hoseok won’t let me live.”

“Hoseok what now?”

Jina’s spine straightens as she squeaks at the sudden appearance of the said man and quickly greets both of you goodnight, leaving you to deal with your sharp, picky boss.

You gulp, eyes hesitantly skimming over his stoic face. 

You’re pretty sure you saw Hoseok laughing his heart out with Jimin one time. Needless to say, his laughter was quite the surprise but immediately after stepping out the lounge room, his professionalism came back as if he had never once cracked a smile in his twenty seven years of living.

“Miss Y/N,” Hoseok addresses in a monotonous but firm tone.

“Y-Yes?” you answer, back unintentionally straightening.

“Are you having a hard time?”

You’re slightly taken aback by the question but a shiver runs down your spine once you realize he was not asking out of concern.

It was a test.

You immediately shake your head, pulling your hands together on top of your desk to cease their slight tremble. “Not at all.”

Hoseok crosses his arms, slightly bending over your cubicle with scrutinizing eyes.

“Am I uncomfortable to be around?”

Your eyes widen, body abruptly stopping its unintentional lean back and instead lean forward into a normal position. 

“Of course not,” you smile nervously, lying straight through your teeth. Hoseok was certainly not the bad kind of uncomfortable. He was a decent male. However, he sure was intimidating which often made you wary of his presence.

Hoseok lets out a small sigh, nodding and starting to turn back around.

“That’s good. Well, sorry about the workload, Y/N,” he apologizes in a straight faced manner, making you wonder if he was even genuinely sorry for you. “I’ll make sure you get the right amount of pay.”

You merely nod in understanding as Hoseok wishes you good luck and heads home for the night.

You peek your head out from behind your divider, deflating back into your chair once you realize you were the only one left in the office.

You debate calling Jimin but immediately shake that idea out of your head. He had left earlier, claiming to have important plans for the evening. You were sure he wasn’t aware of you working overtime. Not wanting to be an unnecessary bother, you slide away your phone and instead focus on finishing up your team’s proposal.

It was tiring managing such various parts of the team. Not only did you have to finish your part and put all the slides together, but you were in charge of editing everyone’s materials. It was quite unfortunate that your other coworkers took advantage of your mercy by bull crapping their whole part and leaving you to do the whole thing by yourself.

You were very tempted to tell Hoseok about it, who would no doubt break out into another intense lecture with some possible screaming involved.

It had happened before.

Then, everyone would know you as the snitch, possibly outcasting you from all the company gatherings. But it would also mean you wouldn’t have to work these extra hours and deal with all this stress.

It’s not worth being a snitch, you nod. You might as well work hard and quit by next year without making enemies along the way.

But as your dull eyes skim over Minu’s absolute garbage bullet points, you grit your teeth. 

Yup. This is definitely the last time you’re covering for them.

You tap your phone, sighing at how you would’ve been off about three hours ago. 

No. It’s not time to mope. This is the last time you’ll be doing this. So get through it and just email Hoseok a complaint later.

You huff, taking a large gulp of your water to calm your infuriating soul and stretch out your fingers. You aggressively flip through the hardcopy of your notes and vigorously clack against the keys, words forming at an insane speed due to your newfound determination.

Another hour passes by and you’re nearly finished. All that was left was covering the effect this proposal would have on the company with its expected high consumer ratings.

As you lean back on your chair, stretching out your joints and back, you don’t notice the figure in view from your window leaving a parallel parked fancy automobile, making its way into your high-rise office building.

__

Seokjin gives a small bow to the security guard in the front lobby who smoothly opens the door for him with a bright grin.

Hm. Quite happy for working the night shift.

He hears the front desk receptionist on night-duty let out a small gasp but it doesn’t have the same effect on him as it would’ve before. Seokjin doesn’t feel the usual urge to smirk nor the surge of pride swelling in his chest. Instead, all he can think about is:

“Which floor is Y/N L/N on?”

The receptionist’s face drops at the mention of another woman’s name and thanks the business regulations for privacy. “Sorry. . . I’m afraid we can’t just give out information like that.”

Seokjin digs in his coat pocket for his business card, quickly handing it to her.

“Business,” he states.

The receptionist’s eyes double their size at his card title: 

Kim Seokjin. JJ Corporations. Executive Director.

She gasps. “JJ Corp-”

“We’re scouting,” Seokjin lies, cutting off the receptionist’s shock. “I heard Y/N L/N was on the management team?”

The young girl frantically nods, clicking away at her computer and pulling up the management team’s information.

“She should be on the thirty-fourth floor.”

Seokjin bids a quick thank you and walks over to an elevator.

The receptionist tilts her head as the man who claims he’s scouting enters the elevator, swinging around a plastic black, convenience store bag.

“Hm,” she squints her eyes in brief suspicion then shrugs. “Must be bribery.”

____

The bell dings, announcing the elevator’s arrival on the 34th floor. Seokjin’s posture is calm as he gets out the elevator but he quickly has to breathe out out of sheer nervousness, feeling the unfamiliar butterflies in his stomach. 

He had heard a black-haired male, who seemed to be some kind of manager, muttering how you were always working overtime over the phone as he walked towards the bus stop. Hearing this, Seokjin drove to the nearest convenience store, picking up some snacks and a pre-packaged dinner plate. It was his first time entering such a humble store, but Seokjin was quite satisfied by the efficiency of it. He planned to visit frequently.

That’s besides the point.

As he nears the entrance of all the cubicles, Seokjin lets out a huff, giving himself a short little pep talk as he stops in front of the doors. He didn’t debate in the car for over an hour just to turn back and go home once he got up here. 

Let’s go Kim Seokjin. What’s the worst that can happen? Rejection?

Seokjin grimaces. He shakes his head, throwing the negative thoughts out of his mind and regains his usual arrogance confidence.

Seokjin’s confident steps slow down to a stop once he spots your face peeking out from the divider, a harsh white light from the computer screen illuminating your tired face.

Just as he lets out a breath to begin walking towards you with a sweet smile, Seokjin’s gaze slowly flickers over to the male’s head popping up next to you.

His smile disappears as the said male lounges beside you on his own chair, spinning lazily.

Jimin.

Seokjin hears an incoherent conversation briefly exchanged between the two of you, heart clenching when your face lights up with a smile at Jimin’s silliness.

Seokjin is frozen, fist tightening on the plastic handles of the black bag, jaw clenching.

Unable to watch as Jimin shifts closer to you, Seokjin swiftly turns around, leaving the room like he was never there to begin with and goes unnoticed by the both of you.

Seokjin huffs, feeling a complexity of emotions as he sees flashes of red. He was angry, somewhat broken, and jealous. It was a flurry of emotions he had never felt towards a girl before. Seokjin firmly presses the elevator button, looking down as the plastic bag loudly crinkles in his clenched fist.

Seokjin grits his teeth, anger and green jealousy getting the best of him. 

What kind of lowlives eat this instant shit?

The elevators slide open. The black bag is flung at the wall. Expensive shoes clack against tiles. A designer coat is flung back by the wind.

With a soft growl of a fancy engine, Seokjin leaves.

[oceanera12]

Fives has the Force (AU edition)

“Ah, Leave him alone. They kept him in his growth jar too long.“ - Cutup (Rookies)

Part 3: The 501st

The 501st is different than expected. Which isn’t necessarily bad, but it isn’t technically good either.

On one hand, their General is a little insane. So a lot of weird stuff happens on and off the battlefield with the 501st. That’s good for Domino because it’s easier to blame anything out of the ordinary on their General, keeping eyes off Fives

On the other hand, their General is a little insane. Therefore, there’s going to be a lot of situations where Fives is probably going to do something with his “gift”, intentionally or unintentionally.

Also, they have to share barracks with a lot of people now. There’s not a secluded room anywhere to duck into, or an empty training room they can invade. So if Fives has a nightmare and random things start floating around-- let’s just say someone is probably going to walk in and/or notice. And it’s not something you can really blame on General Skywalker because he isn’t always on the ship.

It was agreed upon all of the Dominos that Fives was to do nothing Force related for the time being. Meditation in bed to keep some control, but nothing else. (Which Fives was actually annoyed by this because Rishi had been the first time he did something back and it had woken something inside of him)

All in all, it’s a lot of hand-gesturing to one another, silent conversations through facial expressions, note passing, and low key panicking anytime Five’s gets attention from anyone.

Not to say the 501st isn’t bad. Captain Rex is a good man, who checks on the Dominos weekly to make sure they are keeping up with everything. Commander Tano is young, yes, but she is quite fun to be around (and Echo has found it easiest to ask her about Force questions, which is nice) and very loyal to her men. And General Skywalker, despite his crazy moments, is a good General and a good leader in battle. The men are friendly, and although they don’t understand Domino’s aversion to everyone around them, they are patient and don’t push harder than necessary.

At first, everything was fine. Domino fell into the ranks, made a few friends, and managed to keep Fives off the radar (there was a lot of dancing around General Skywalker but they could pretend it was fear of someone of a higher rank, as they were still under experienced)

War kills, that’s just how it goes. Anyone who thinks a squad can survive the war is just kidding themselves. Someone is going to die-- even if you have the Force on your side.

It was on Kamino. The squad had been split up for separate assignments. Fives and Echo were ordered to sniper positions. Droidbait was required in the medical bay (to help keep an eye on the Kaminoans). Hevy and Cutup were directed to help with the assault.

Even across the facility, Fives felt Cutup’s panic, pain, then nothing as his “bond” with his brother snapped, leaving this empty hole in his chest. Fives could barely breathe, let alone shoot. Thankfully Echo was able to pick up the slack to finish the assignment.

99 showed up to help as well and the arrival of lost cadets made Fives push aside the pain. At least for a little while.

Despite Fives and Echo’s best (sans Force), they ended up losing 99 as well. He cradled the man in his arms, for a selfish moment pretending it was Cutup. Didn’t matter to him. Losing a brother felt like a searing hot knife stabbing in his chest.

Fives managed to slip away after the battle for a moment and find General Shaak Ti. She kindly explained what she could about Force bonds (she suspected he had formed something of the sort with his batchmates) and also recited the Jedi Code, encouraging Fives to commit it to memory. Mainly the last line. “There is no death, there is the Force.”

Losing Cutup put everyone on edge. They had lost their brother, and also their main distraction for Fives. Course no one really thought of that until Captain Rex walked into what he thought was an empty training room 

What he found instead was the Dominos, yelling at each other, the situation pressing heavy on all of them. Hevy was trying to get Fives to calm down. “I could have done something!” “Fives, none of this is your fault! I was there! There was nothing you could have done!” “Well you can’t do this!” Fives threw his hands at the training dummies, throwing them across the room without touching them.

And suddenly Rex couldn’t breathe, his datapad dropping to the ground with a clatter.

Cutup would have tried to convince the Captain he had been seeing things. He would have insulted his eyesight, or played the incident as a prank, laughing until he couldn’t breathe. Probably earned some laps around the ship and most likely KP duty for a week. But Cutup wasn’t there and suddenly Domino couldn’t move.

Hevy just stuttered about the weather, Echo started cursing in multiple languages, Droidbait stood in silence and his mouth gaping, and Fives tried to lie (and failed miserably).

Rex ordered all of them to their barracks, asking them to see him in the morning.

No one slept that night. Tossing and turning in bed, the four remaining Dominos desperately searched for a way out of their predicament. Nothing came to mind short of desertion, something none of them wanted to do. They were all loyal to the Republic!

Imagine their surprise when Rex met them, alone, in a briefing room the next morning. He informed them he hasn’t told the General and he doesn’t intend to. In his hands is a briefcase with several shots of something Rex called a “Force-suppressing drug.”

“It’s only for emergencies. Okay? I don’t know exactly how this works but I know it causes disorientation, mental and physical fatigue, and can be damaging to Force users. But if something happens: take one. For the following twenty-four hours, you will register to most tests as non-Force sensitive. Most tests, not all of them.”

Confusion and relief fills the Dominos. Hevy is the one to question Rex’s motives.

Rex explains he had a batchmate who was Force sensitive-- but the clone hadn’t told Rex or anyone else in the squad. One of the Kaminans had found out during their early cadet days and had taken his friend away. Two days later, he had been replaced and Rex never saw his batchmate again.

The revelation is shocking to say the least. Rex promises to help Domino to the best of his abilities, encouraging Fives to keep doing what he can to keep his connection under control. Especially because of what Rex wants to ask of the boys next.

He’d been impressed by their actions on Kamino. As had General Skywalker. Rex carefully explains that he had, with the General’s approval, recommend Fives, Echo and Hevy for ARC trooper training. Droidbait would also be promoted, but as an advanced medic and sent away to train for a time as well, but at a different facility.

With the present revelation, Rex offered to pull the recommendation out, but also cautioned it would rouse suspicion. He left the decision to them, but expressed the need for good men in the ranks.

After talking the matter over, Domino determined it would be best to continue forward with the promotions (and I’m gonna stop there because KRIFF look at how long this got).

((More random notes from trying to figure out who’s who in the episode, “Rookies” (seriously, it’s a problem). Do these boys change their armor number in between training sessions? Because I KNOW Cutup is the one with the hint of irish/scottish accent in his voice. And in their final test, he’s in clone armor #4. But in the test they fail, pretty sure Cutup isn’t the one who wants to stay with Droidbait (who has been shot at this point), and that’s clone armor #4 (pretty sure it’s Echo, but Echo is #3 in their final test... and also in the practice test... wait, what?). Also, Fives is not #5 at the beginning of the episode. Trust me on that because it drives me crazy. But he is #5 in the final test. so in other words: I CONFUSED. WHO’S WHO?))

Part 4: https://oceanera12.tumblr.com/post/615933158444138496/fives-has-the-force-au-edition