#i need to watch it over and over until i figure out how it bypassed my snob tendencies so effectively

[hey-scully-itsme]

still thinking about the count of monte cristo movie. some of it felt half-baked on a technical level (score choices, some weird edits, etc) BUT also it hasn't left my head since i watched it and i WILL be seeing it again on wednesday. enraptured by the count's sad brown eyes and long eyelashes. and his dumbass leather coat.

it's a situation where i wish the movie had more of the book but i also wish the book had a little more of the movie in it.

[yagrldariv]

Little Black Dress

Aaron Pierre x Reader

A/N: I have posted in a minute but this has been sitting in my drafts for months. This is just a little Drabble, I’m trying to get back into posting more consistently. Minors DNI.

TW:Smut, semi-public, fingering, squirting, overstimulation.




Tonight Aaron was insatiable. All you could think was ‘fuck I’m going to be sore tomorrow’ but in the best way possible.

Your night out was now over, ended a lot sooner than you expected. But that was no thanks to the tight little dress you had on. You knew by the way he eyed you coming down the stairs in that short black dress it would get you trouble.

“We really have to go to this party?” He questioned as he raked his gaze over every inch of your delectable figure.

“Yes it’s not everyday your friend opens a club, it’ll be fun.”

Every chance he got he was staring you down through the lights of the club, not even trying to hide the hungry look in his eye. And that’s how you ended up here, flustered in the private bathroom of his friend’s office.

Aaron had your back pressed against his sold frame, his thick hands roaming your body. Your breath turned ragged as he began pulling at the thin fabric that was barely covering your skin. His fingers gripping every piece of soft brown flesh. Eventually, his hands parted ways, one stayed on your chest, toying with your now exposed nipple, the other was encroaching dangerously close to your panty line.

“Fucking look at you, so fucking sexy” His breath was warm on your neck as he continued to nip and kiss your exposed skin. You watched him through the mirror but his gaze remained on your body, taking it all in.

“You think you can just walk around looking this damn good and I’m not going to do anything?”

You were way too overwhelmed to respond with anything coherent. All that came out was a pathetic sigh, which he chuckled at.

His fingers slid against your inner thigh, drawing up the hem of your very short skirt.

From where you stood, you could see everything in the large mirror. Your eyes went to his wide pupils, then to the marks already showing on the side of your neck from his lips. But your gaze lingered on his hands. Those expert fingers lightly traced over the lilac lace fabric that was growing damper by the second. When he saw the flash of purple from under your dress his smile turned sinister.

“Shit baby, you wore this just for me, didn’t you?”

You nodded, still unable to form coherent words as his fingers worked over your hot skin. You heard him mumble “so sexy”.

The pads of his fingers slip under the fabric and you gasp at the sudden contact. “You like this baby? Hm?”

Those expert digits moved excruciatingly slow over your aching heat, touching you everywhere but where you needed him the most.

“Answer me,” he paused his movements.

“Yes, yes I love it”

“That’s my girl”

He took that as an invitation to explore more. He let his hands drop from their positions and he backed away. You took those few seconds to breathe and try and adjust your dress a little bit.

“Put your hands on that sink or I’m stopping” he spoke flatly as he leaned you forward, exposing your ass to him. His hands gripped your cheeks under the fabric of the dress and he squatted down. You arched just a bit more for him gripping the sink for leverage, and he smiled. You were putty in his hands at this point and he loved it.

He started placing kisses along the skin of your ass where your hem ended, adding a couple of bites here and there. Nothing to hurt you but just rough enough it caused your walls to flutter everytime his teeth grazed you.

When you least expected it, his fingers were again on your inner thigh, slidding up towards your covered hole that was now throbbing. His hands bypassed where you needed him most and snaked further to grip your waist, pulling the fabric of your dress with him until it pooled around your waist. Your ass was on complete display for him now as he continued leaving kissing on the newly exposed flesh.

“You gonna be a good girl and let me have a taste?”

You couldn’t say no even if your brain had the capacity to form a coherent thought.

“I need that answer if you want me to keep going mama”

“Fuck yes, Aaron, please just touch me already”

“Since we’re pressed for time, I’ll allow it” and with that he slid your panties down your legs.

At the same time you felt the cool air hit your sopping core, you heard him let out a breathy “fuck”. It was barely audible like it wasn’t even for you.

“You’re fucking drippin baby, this all for me?”

You nodded “always for you daddy”

He finished pulling the thong down your legs and brought his attention back to your core.

Before you even took a breath his tongue was flat against your slit, moving up and down. You jerked forward, not prepared for the sudden contact.

“You made me wait all night for this, you better stay still”, his strong hands pulled you back, bringing his face deeper.

You were cursing already as his tongue moved faster and faster. Before you knew he was eating you out like it was his last meal. You were trying to muffle the sounds of your moans but he did not give a fuck. The loud wet noises of his lips against your heat filled the room. He rotated between licking your clit and sucking it moaning against your heat. When he felt you were right on the edge, he slipped his toungue as deep as possible in your pussy, making you squirm under his hands.

His tongue slipped out of your now dripping hole and circled your clit. You bit down on your lip to silence a moan as your legs shook. All he had to do was wrap his lips around your sensitive bud and you were already on your first orgasm of the night.

His rough hands caressed your cheeks as he licked you clean, unfazed by your shaking legs. You were almost on the cusp of another orgasm when he pulled away, placing wet kisses up your thighs and ass until he was at your lower back.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ma take my time with you when I get you home,” His eyes were staring at yours through the mirror as he stood all the way up, moving back to his position behind you.

“But right now, i just want to have a little fun with pretty pussy.” He kissed your neck again as his left hand gripped your neck, turning your head until you were facing him. Your eyes fell on his plump lips, still glistening from his previous predicament.

“You don’t even know what you got yourself into huh?” He kissed you hard before you could respond. There was no struggle for control, he had all of it and you were just along for the ride. His right hand snakes it’s way up your waist, cupping your exposed tit. You moaned into his mouth, arching more into his broad chest. His expert fingers rolled your nipple back and forth and you pawed at his wrists, needing more. Right when you felt you were on the verge of running out of air, he pulls away. He placed one more chaste kiss on your swollen lips before releasing your nipple.

“Get these nice and wet for me babygirl”

Two fingers slip into yours open mouth and you greedily sucked them in, circling your tongue around each one, eyes locked on his. His thick dick, that was pressed against your ass, hardened even more at the sight. He loved you like this. Flustered, needy and eager to please him.

Once he felt you were ready, he removed his fingers from your mouth, saliva trailing on your lips. The hand around your neck slid down towards your chest, holding you up against him as he propped your leg up, giving him better access. His wet fingers wasted no time finding your hot core and he cursed under his breath again at how good you looked like this. He could never get enough of it. The way he was holding you, you were almost completely exposed to his in the mirror.

He could see your sticky wetness dripping down your thighs, “You’re always so fucking wet for me, I love that shit”.

He rubbed your clit applying just enough pressure to make you roll your head back onto his shoulders “Fuck daddy I’m gonna cum again”

You felt him chuckle “Already babygirl? I haven’t even started yet”. His pointer finger slipped in, and you moaned, louder than expected.

“Now you don’t want everyone to know how im sluttin you out in here, you gotta keep quiet.” He smirked.

You bit your lip as he continued his exploration, he wasn’t making it easy for you to keep it together. He wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel, how good you were being for him, he did not give a shit about them hearing.

He picked a grueling pace, sliding his finger in and out. His hand on your chest resumed its assault on your nipples and you moaned again, this time a little too loud.

That one got his attention, “Alright you gotta keep quiet baby. You want someone to kick us out before I make you cum again hm?”. He did not like being interrupted, that was a given.

He pulled his hand away from your core and dug into his pocket, pulling out your lace panties. “Open”

You opened you mouth and he filled it with the purple fabric, sliding his hand back to his previous position.

“Now, you interrupt me one more time, you’re not cumming”.

His lips attached back on your neck and he slid two digits in this time. You bit down hard on the fabric as you came after a few more strokes, your loud moan thankfully muffled by the fabric.

You thought after that orgasm he’d let you go but boy were you wrong. He added a third digit and picked up pace. You gripped his forearm and your eyes rolled back, feeling an even stronger orgasm growing. Your legs became shaky and your pussy spasmed around his hand.

“That’s right baby, cum all over daddy’s fingers”. You were practically screaming, even with your underwear in the way. Any care of getting caught was long gone from your brain, you just wanted to make it out of there with your sanity.

“I know you got another one for me baby, cum for me”. You shook in his arms, cumming hard. His fingers slipped out, running fast circles over your clit “oh my god daddy I can’t I-“ you words were garbled as he worked you over into one more orgasm, your wetness dripping all over the floor as you squirted all over his hand. “Good fucking girl.” He praised

“Please..”you begged, completely overstimulated. He slowed his pace until he completely pulled away from your pussy, conceding for now. He returned you down to the ground, as you fought your breath.

Aaron pulled the panties from your mouth, placed a kiss on your lips, then another on your forehead “You look so pretty after I make you cum.”

You shoved him slightly in jest. He put his hands up in surrender. After another few minutes of him cleaning you up and fixing your dress, you two left the room.

He pulled you behind him, down the hall towards exit, hand clasped in his. “Let’s go home babygirl, so I can take care of you, properly”

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [1]

・❥ You’re harassed by a man following you down the street. Luckily, a rather smiley demon swoops in and claims to be your husband.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: no use of y/n. i said this was going to be short and I lied, it’s about 6k words.

warnings: mild swearing

Warning! Battery at 1%! Device will power down in 3..

You stared down at the phone in your hands as the message lit up on the screen. Eyes widening, you quickly tapped the screen, trying to bypass the pop-up and get another glimpse at the digital map you were using. 

2…

“Hold on now! Just let me see where I'm going, please!” You begged the small device, your grip tightening around it as you tried to figure out what direction you needed to go. 

1..

You peered around the small pop-up. Okay.. Pete Ave was that way, which meant you needed to take a right after the stoplight and go-

Device powering down! Have a nice day :) 

“Damnit!” You growled as the screen flashed once, and then faded to black. You squeezed your eyes shut, face lifted to the sky as you took a deep breath to center yourself.

“Move it, won’t ya?” A demon woman chastised as she hurried around you. Lowering your head, you realized you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, your spot interrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic. Quickly, you backpedaled until your back hit a brick wall of a building. 

It was getting late in Pentagram City, and that meant you needed to hurry to get to your friend's place before the worst inhabitants of Hell came crawling out. 

She had just gotten married and moved into a rather quaint little home, and you were very happy for her. You had not seen it yet, just in pictures she had shown you on her phone and the one time you drove past it.

“Oh, pleaseeee won’t you come over tonight? I can’t wait to show you all the renovations we’ve done! It looks so much better since we bought it.” She had begged over the phone that afternoon. 

You had stood there, your nails clicking against the countertop in your kitchen as you thought. You had nothing important going on, just some light cleaning and shopping. What was the harm in going over there and visiting? 

“Okay, sure. Yeah, I can come over.” You finally spoke.

“Ahh! I’m so excited, we’ll have a big dinner and everything. I can even rent a movie for us to watch, what are you into again? Those sappy romance flicks?”

“Whatever you want to watch, it’s your milestone we’re celebrating. I’m not the one picking.” 

“Geez, you know how hard it is for me to decide things like that! But, i’ll do it. Oh! Before I forget, could you stop by the store on your way and get some Cajun seasoning? It’s for the meal!” 

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” You had told her, before hanging up. Eyes moving to the clock, you realized you two hours before needing to arrive. Which meant you had to get moving on those dishes and errands. 

It didn’t take long before you were out the door. Wearing a nice outfit and new shoes, you strolled down the street. The digital map on your phone guiding you across the city as you moved.

Being so close to the city center, you didn’t have a personal vehicle. Instead, you took public transport all the way past the Entertainment District, your eyes gazing up at the rather tall VoxTek building as the bus sped by. 

You didn’t know much about the Vees, other than they were very powerful Overlords with a lot of influence in the media industry. In fact, you didn’t know much about Overlords at all. Were they nasty demons? They must be, if they bartered in souls.

But there had to be better ones, right? You knew of the cannibal, Rosie, and despite her, well.. dietary choices, she seemed to be a rather motherly and courteous demon. In such a way that the residents of Cannibal Town held very high regards for her, which proved her ability to lead in a just manner. She couldn’t be the only one with a more ethical moral code.

Your mind lingered on that train of thought, before you were pulled back into reality by the bus driver’s call for your stop. Quickly, you had hurried out of the vehicle, before continuing your directed path forward.

You arrived at the large storefront, a cozy cottage-like building that whispered of deliciousness as the scents of spices and other meal-making goods wafted through the open door. 

Taking a step inside, you quickly darted through the aisles, searching for the Cajun seasoning. What was your friend making tonight? You weren’t too familiar with these kinds of ingredients. Hopefully, it was going to be tasty.

When you found it, you turned it in your hands, inspecting the product. Yep, you’ve never seen this before in your life. 

After paying for the item, you quickly departed. Your next destination set on your phone.. but not for long.

Just a few more blocks, and you’d have been welcomed by the two love-birds with open arms. A nice, hot meal and a good movie to finish the night. 

Except, how were you supposed to get there now?!

Your phone was useless, and the digital displays around you showed nothing but advertisements and the latest news. 

Frantically, you looked around for any familiar landmarks, hoping to rely on your memory to guide you. But the streets of Pentagram City, with their twisting alleys and repetitive buildings, all looked eerily similar in the dimming red light of dusk.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you tried to recall the route from memory. Pete Avenue, right after the stoplight, then… was it a left or a right at the next intersection? You berated yourself for not doing a better job at memorizing the way before you left.

Turning, you raised a fist at the VoxTek HQ building, cursing them for your suffering. Stupid technology and their shitty battery life.

Slowly, you started walking again. Past the neon signs beckoning you to take a glance at what they had to offer, past the girls on the corner who were calling out to you to come have a ‘good time’.

Sometimes, you wished you had someone else to lend a hand at times like these. But, your heart and your home were unimaginably lonely when it came to a romantic partner. It was something that others around you couldn’t stop pestering you about.

“You really need to get out more,” another friend of yours had said one day, while you two dined at a cafe, “there’s this new dating app, called ‘Ozzie’s Love Link’. Everybody is buzzing about it. You should totally give it a whirl!” 

You had rolled your eyes at her suggestion, a dating app? Those things were practically a fraud. The demons on there either wanted sex, or their idea of a relationship was twisted and foul. You even had heard stories of people playing into sick traps of the perfect first meet, only to be murdered and left in an alley to rot.

“I want something real, not some.. temporary escape. Have you ever met anyone that’s actually found ‘The One’ through one of those things? And, who knows, maybe the demon of my dreams will just walk right into me one day.” 

She had laughed at your words, holding a hand to her mouth to contain her giggles.

“Oh, you. You’re still hanging on to those silly stories of a Prince Charming, hm? C’mon now, this is the real world. Nobody is going to swoop in and save you, and then fall hopelessly in love with you. That's a fairy tale. You need to put in the effort.”

You shrugged. Maybe, she was right. Maybe, those stories you had digested were just fairy tales, meant to enrapture you with promises of the perfect life. You were in Hell, after all.

‘She just doesn’t understand,’ you reminded yourself, ‘all her relationships have been toxic. She doesn’t know any better.’

You weren’t going to let her judgments get to you, you could live your life however you wanted, with whatever dreams you chose.

As you walked down the bustling streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was as if unseen eyes followed your every move, sending shivers down your spine. 

‘Stop freaking out,’ you told yourself, ‘it’s just your imagination, there’s people all around you. They have their own lives, they’re not watching you.’

Nearing the curb to an intersection, you glanced up at the street sign. Pete Avenue, finally. Now, think. Left? 

Looking left, you peer down the rows of strip clubs and bars. The crowds only got bigger from there, and there seemed to be no residential streets. You turned your head to the right, and it began to branch out into more domesticated buildings and neighborhoods. The farther your gaze traveled, the quieter the sidewalks became.

So, right it is. 

You turned the corner of the block and kept moving, your pace quickening as you checked a large digital clock on the side of a building. It was getting closer to the time you had promised to be there.

But, now where were you supposed to go? You turned your head, until your gaze landed on a small imp standing near an alley, a cigarette between his lips. 

Walking forward, you raised your hand up in greeting. “Excuse me, do you know where Magdalene Drive is, by any chance? I’ve just gotten a little turned around and would greatly appreciate some guidance.” 

The imp regarded you for a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, and exhaled a large breath. A plume of gray smoke vented from his lips, and he coughed harshly.

“Yeah, I do. You see that big statue over there?” He pointed to your left, the cigarette hanging between his fingers.

Turning your head, you leaned slightly backwards. Off in the distance, a large marble statue depicting an unknown owl demon practically glowed against the darker backdrop. It seemed to hold resemblance to an Ars Goetia family member, but you couldn’t put a finger on who. 

“Right when you pass it, take a left. Go two blocks straight, then take another left. One more block, and another right, and you’re on Magdalene Drive.” 

Jeez, that was a lot of directions thrown at you in one sitting. Not wanting to pester the man any further, you waved a thanks and walked away.

How far have you come, exactly? You turned your head behind you, looking down the sidewalk of where you had just come from. Something flickered in your peripheral vision, a dark figure skirting from your gaze. Was someone watching you? 

You shook your head. No, it’s just your imagination. Keep moving.

Slowly, you turned back and started walking. The sidewalks were practically empty now, the glow from the street lamps above you illuminating your path as you strolled up the large statue. 

Twisting your head to get a better look at it, your gaze skimmed across the royal figure. The owl-demon was staring up at the sky, one arm raised with what seemed to be a ball of energy in his grasp. Swirls of gold marble laced the pearly white sphere. He was holding up, like it was an offering to Heaven. 

Maybe, you’d come back later and take a look at the plaque below the statue. There had to be some significance, although you didn’t see yourself as a master of the fine-arts to te-

Crunch

What was that? That sounded like someone crushing a twig beneath their feet. You twisted to face behind you, and saw nothing once more. 

‘Alright, this is getting a little freaky.’

You weren’t going to stop now though, you didn’t want any potential onlookers seeing you stalking the perimeter like a weirdo simply because your paranoia was having you hallucinate things.

Keeping your pace, you took a sharp left on the corner and continued down. How many blocks did that guy say? Two, if you could recall correctly.

That’s how many blocks you traveled, before stopping in your tracks. Which way did he say to go? Right? Left? 

You rubbed your face with a hand, why did you suck so badly with directions?! If only you had charged your phone before you left, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

Turning your head, you tried to figure out which way could be the correct one. There was nothing, though. It didn’t remind you of anything you’d seen when you had driven past her house. 

“Hey, you lost?” A gravelly voice came from behind you. Eyes widened, you spun on your heel to face the stranger. He was tall, much taller than you. He sported scars running across his face, one eye half-lidded permanently from some kind of nasty wound. 

He sported a dark leather jacket, with a thin sweater underneath. His hoodie was up, masking most of his features like a shadow. His skin was a dark red, and his eyes were a pale yellow. He seemed to be a Succubus demon, being too large for an imp.

There was no kindness in his tone or in his smile. Your brain screamed danger, you needed to get away from him. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to give him a well-meaning smile. 

“No, i’m not! I’m just uhh- waiting for someone, they’ll be here soon anyway.” 

“People that aren’t lost usually don’t ask strangers on the street for directions,” he chuckled darkly, “why don’t you tell me where you’re trying to go? I can give you a lift.” 

As he closed in, you could smell the bitter taste of alcohol on his breath. You had to steel yourself not to recoil at his looming figure. Widening your smile, you attempted to not display any fear as he got closer.

“No, thank you. I would hate to bother you, my.. partner should be here soon, so you can continue on with your day!” 

“Don’t you know this place ain’t safe for sweet dolls like you to be roaming alone? C’mon, let me take you to where i’m parked, i’m sure you’ll enjoy my company.”

You quickly stepped backwards, trying to widen the distance from this creep. It wasn’t until your back hit the wall of an abandoned storefront, did you realize you were trapped. 

“I said no. I’m not some damsel in distress. Now, if you can excuse me, I need to keep going before it gets too late.” 

You turned away from him, trying to break any kind of contact with the demon. Maybe if you kept your cool, he’d abandon his little mission.

That was until you felt his hand snake around your wrist, his grip tightening and pulling you to face him. In your state of shock, you dropped the bag containing the Cajun seasoning. You tried to tug your wrist free, but his yellow nails were practically digging into your skin, preventing your escape.

“What’s the rush, Doll? Scared i’m gonna bite or something? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna harm you. I just want to show you a good time.”

Your eyes narrowed, gaze heated at the stranger. You frowned, glimpsing at his hand on your wrist in disgust.

“What are you doing? I don’t want anything to do with you, now let go of m-!” 

“There you are, my dear!” A masculine voice exclaimed next to you. You felt the creep’s grip on your wrist loosen suddenly. His hand yanked away by another, and your gaze traced the light touch of unknown dark-red fingers gently taking your hand instead.

You snapped your head to the unfamiliar voice, taking in the sight of a second demon standing right besides you, a large grin on his face. He was tall, and he stood a little bit higher than the creep in front of you. His hair was styled in a cropped, angled bob, with an odd pinkish-red shade. Two small antlers protruded from the top of his head, and were those.. ears next to them too?

He was dressed rather formally, with a red pin-stripe coat adorned with a large black bow-tie. Over his right eye, you took note of the small oval-shaped monocle. He held a cane, with an odd looking end. The small oval in the center of it reminded you of an eye. He looked very dapper, like he was from a much older era. 

His gaze was soft, as he looked at you. It wasn’t until his eyes snapped to the stranger in front did they take on a cold, dark glare. That smile never faltered, though. 

Who was this guy? Why was he touching you? You felt the need to tear your hand from his grip as well.

Except, when he turned back to you, his eyes sent you a hidden message. Something like, ‘Go along with it, if you want to get rid of him.’

Seeing as you were stuck between two strange demons, with no idea what this new guy had in store for you, maybe it was a good idea to follow his silent command. Your hand went limp in his grip, and the deer demon raised it to his chest, patting it lovingly.

“Goodness, I leave for ten minutes to go pick up your favorite herbal tea and poof, gone! You are a slippery one, my sweet.” Static dripped from his voice, seemingly connected to the cane at his side. Was it some kind of microphone?

“Who are you?” The stalker questioned, backing up a step as he regarded the new face.

The red demon laughed, an audible ‘ha ha’, as if the creep just told a rather good joke. He extended his free hand in greeting, and the succubus only eyed the gesture with suspicion.

“The name is Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sir, quite a pleasure. It’s rare for people these days to not recognize my face, although i’m sure it’ll become familiar soon enough.” 

That ‘soon enough’ sounded quite ominous to you. And, was he some kind of celebrity or something? You didn’t remember him from anywhere. 

“Well, do you mind? Me and the lady were in the middle of a conversation.” The succubus retorted, a slight growl in his tone. 

“The better question is, do you mind, my good sir! Here I am, searching for my dear wife, only to see you bothering her on the corner!” 

Wait a second, did this guy just call you his wife? You stood there, shocked, as you listened to the two bicker. Never would you think you’d hear that uttered from a man. 

“Not only that, but touching her without her consent? My word, what degenerate behavior!” The demon, Alastor, continued. He shook his head in disapproval, an audible tsk-tsk coming from his lips.

“There was no harm in it, we were only having some fun. Ain’t that right, Doll?” The stalker turned to you, fire in his gaze as if daring you to speak.

You shook your head, your gaze snapping to Alastor. He watched you for a moment, before turning his attention back to the succubus.

“It seems your mother neglected to instill in you even a modicum of respect. If my wife weren’t here to witness, I'd be more than obligated to educate you on proper decorum.”

Something flickered in the creep’s eyes, and for a moment he looked almost afraid. After a moment, He sneered, eyeing you up and down. "I don't see a ring on her finger."

Alastor smirked, and gently lifted your hand forward for the demon to get a look at. His grin was that of triumph, as though he was showcasing a prized possession. 

Your eyes widened at the sight, a gasp almost escaping your lips. On your finger, was a small gold ring. It was snuggled nicely around your digit, a perfect fit. 

The Succubus leaned in, and so did you. Where the hell did that come from? That was not there a few minutes ago! 

On closer inspection, you noticed something about the small band. Engraved in a tiny rose-gold font, was a single letter.

A.

"There, now do you see?" Alastor's grin widened, his demeanor playful yet menacing. His eyes narrowed, as he waited for the demon's response. You felt the air crackle with some kind of energy, it was dark and cold. The hair on the back of your neck began to stand on its end, like static. Which one of the demons was doing that?

The stalker’s expression shifted from arrogance to confusion, then to frustration. He furrowed his brow, studying the ring intently as if searching for some kind of flaw.

Was he going to try and argue? The proof was there, albeit fabricated. Alastor dropped your hand, and instead snaked his arm around yours, locking you in place. 

There was no argument didn’t, instead, the succubus took another step back. The demon straightened himself and shrugged, like the scene before him was not a bother, like his filthy plan wasn’t thwarted by the appearance of the powerful deer man. 

“Whatever, I ain’t got time for this anyway. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lovebirds.”

As the man turned away, Alastor’s grin widened as he nodded his head. “Farewell, and may your endeavors be as futile as your manners!”

He turned to you, that dark look gone from his eyes as he gently tugged at your arm, still laced with his. “Now, my dear, shall we continue on our evening stroll?” 

You nodded slowly, and together, the two of you turned away from the creep and began to walk. You had only made it a few steps before you heard the soft knocking of Alastor’s staff hitting the cement walkway. What was he doing?

Behind you, a strangled cry filled the silence, before a loud thump hit your ears. You jolted at the sound, did something just happen? It sounded like someone got hurt! 

Right as you were about to turn your head to look at where the noises had emanated from, Alastor’s head snapped to you and you felt another gentle tug on your arm to turn your attention back to him.

You looked up at him, a smile forming on your lips as your nerves settled. “Thank you, for saving me, kind sir. I could have been a goner.” 

“It was no trouble at all my dear, and please, call me Alastor. I was simply in the neighborhood and couldn’t just stand by and let that rapscallion manhandle you like that! Now, where are we off to, if I might ask?” 

“Oh, well, Magdalene Drive! It’s a house right at the end of a street, my friend's place actually. She’s expecting me for dinner, that’s why I have this bag of…”

You became suddenly aware of the empty feeling in your hand. Did you forget to pick up the seasoning after you dropped it?! You groaned internally, your head hung in defeat. After all that, you didn’t have the one item you had taken this route to get. 

Alastor raised an eyebrow at your reaction, and you quickly explained, “I needed to get Cajun seasoning for the meal they are making, but I dropped it when that.. man was harassing me! I’m terribly sorry, I have to go back and get it.” 

Alastor only smiled, as usual, and shook his head. He waved his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt to turn around.

“Nonsense! We don’t need to bother that poor soul any longer. Here, let me give you one from my personal collection!” 

He lifted his free hand, and snapped his fingers. In a flicker of green light, a small spice jar landed in his palm. Your eyes widened, an amused smile gracing your lips as you watched the little trick. That was pretty cool. Was that the same kind of magic he used to secretly place the ring on your finger? 

“Here you are! The best Cajun seasoning you can find in Pentagram City, my personal favorite. I was going to use it for something special, but it seems you are in need of it more than I.”

He lifted his hand toward you, and you took it gratefully. Lifting it to your nose, you inhaled deeply. It was an odd scent, one you couldn’t quite place, but it smelled quite delicious.

“Not many dishes require such flavoring, what is the meal you are having tonight?”

You shrugged, “I'm not really sure, to be honest. She didn’t say.” 

“Hm, a pity. Have you ever tried Jambalaya? It is a rather magnificent dish, my personal favorite actually! My mother was quite the cook, indeed, and her craft would never miss when producing such delicacies.”

“No, I've never tried it before. What does it taste like?”

“It is hard to put a description on it. It’s almost like.. fireworkings popping off in your mouth! Ha ha, that is a good way to put it. You really must try it sometime.” 

You smiled at Alastor as you listened to his words. Perhaps, you would.

“What got you into this pickle, anyway? Surely you didn’t actually feel like taking a stroll so late in the evening, hm?” He questioned as the two of you continued your pace, “a pretty face like yours will cause quite the stir amongst the filthy rats that like to inhabit this place.”

“Oh, well, I was using my phone for directions. It died on the way here, unfortunately I'm not familiar with this area and couldn’t find my way forward.”

His words finally processed in your brain. Did he just call you pretty? You didn’t get to think about that for much longer as his static-laced voice filled the air once more.

“Ah, of course. This new.. modern technology is nothing short of a fraud, if I do say. What ever happened to the old fashioned paper map? If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be so reliant on such faulty equipment.”

“Is that what your staff is? It looks like a microphone.” You said, pointing to the cane in his other hand.

Alastor glanced down to his cane, and then back to you. “Aha, a clever one indeed! Yes, my dear, I use it for my radio broadcasts!”

You perked at that. Radio? You had one of your own at home. Although it was quite dusty, you did occasionally turn it on to see what latest hits were circling around in the music industry.

“You do radio? That’s actually kind of interesting! Do you have a big audience?”

“Yes, indeed! Back when I was at my highest with it, I had many listeners. Unfortunately, my absence from Pentagram City has led to other forms taking the spotlight. I plan on rectifying that once I've settled in. Perhaps, you could listen in as well to see what I have to offer?”

You nodded at that, perhaps, you would listen in. He had a nice, pleasant voice. It felt like you could sit there for hours and just listen to him speak. Even if the words that came from his mouth was nothing but gibberish, you’d still let his voice drown out your thoughts.

“What about you?” The static dripping from his voice causes you to turn your head, “what do you do for a living?” 

“Oh, well, I work at a men’s formalwear store. So, like tuxedos, dress shirts, and all that jazz. I help assist with fittings and greet guests, basically the doorgirl. Nothing too important.” 

His ears perked slightly as he listened, and he turned his head to you. “Well, isn’t that interesting! Just recently, I had an awfully rude encounter with another demon, who had torn a piece of my suit. That slippery little serpent got away before I could.. question him about his antics.” 

“That’s awful! Who was it?” 

Alastor chuckled, rolling his eyes as he recalled the event. “Oh, nobody of importance, I assure you. Just some pretentious upstart fancying himself as an Overlord, with a knack for building rather ghastly creations of destruction. Since that encounter, I've been in the market for a fresh look. If a place of formal employs such splendid characters like you, I think it would be in my best interest to take a look in your establishment for a new coat”

Your eyes widened, he wanted to buy a new suit at your work because.. you were there? How charming.

Taking another glance at him, you realized he was rather good-looking. His red hair popped out against his much paler skin, it shined against the streetlights above. It looked rather silky and smooth, like you could comb them with your fingers and not find a single knot. 

And those ears? They were pretty cute, actually. They stuck up from his head, and every so often they would twitch or shrivel in the direction of sudden noises. They seemed so soft too, would they feel as good as they looked if you were to squish them between your fingers?

He was a well-mannered gentleman, a pretty rare specimen in Hell. Not only that, but he stepped in to defend you from that creep when he could have simply walked by. He didn’t, and that made your cheeks heat up. Especially with the fact he called you his wife, instead of something simpler like ‘friend’.

What about when he called you pretty? Did he actually mean that? You never regarded yourself as such, but if Alastor thought that, maybe you cou-

“Is this the house?” Alastor’s words pulled you back into reality. You blinked, before looking up at the pale blue cottage snuggled nicely between two large Victorian homes. The talks you were having must have kept you from noticing the large distance.

“Yes! This is the place!” You exclaimed happily, finally, you were here. You turned to him, before looking down at your arm, still laced with his. Slowly, you pulled your arm free. The cold that replaced his touch was unwelcomed. Which felt odd to you, why did you want him touching you still? 

You had only just met him, but perhaps his way of speaking and heroics swooned you enough to miss the warmth of his grasp. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, you tried to see what he was thinking behind that constant smile. 

His eyes were unreadable, but the cold stare he had given the succubus, and to the other onlookers that you had occasionally passed was missing as he looked at you. There seemed to be a smile in his eyes, one that was meaningful and true.

“Well, I'm glad I could assist you in finding your way home, my dear. I quite enjoyed our chat, it is refreshing to hear from a new face once in a while. Especially one as eloquent as yours.”

You had to keep yourself from visibly blushing. He really was a gentleman in all regards. You bowed your head respectfully, before meeting his gaze again.

“The only reason why I'm here is because of you, Alastor. Thank you, and I do hope to run into you in the future. Our conversation was very interesting, I'd love to hear more of it sometime.”

He tilted his head at you, as he regarded your words. “Indeed, perhaps we will. Maybe, the next time we cross paths, I can give you a glimpse into my mothers recipe of Jambalaya. I’m sure your friend would be interested in trying something new the next time you sit down for dinner.”

You smiled at him, before waving goodbye. Turning towards the door you lightly rapped your knuckles against its wooden frame. It was then that you realized you never properly introduce yourself.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I never got to tell you, my name is-”

The words halted in your mouth, as you found the space in front of you empty. Alastor had vanished, not a single trace of his presence remained.

He was gone already? Damn, that guy moved quickly. Maybe, he was just a hallucination, a dream too good to be true. You stood there for a moment, before closing your mouth in thought.

Suddenly, the front door was flung open and a hand reached out and grasped your top. You turned your head just as you were yanked inside. Before you had time to blink, the door was slammed shut behind you. The window near it was shielded by curtains in seconds.

In front of you, your friend stood there. She was breathing heavily, a hand to her heart as if she just witnessed the scariest thing in her life. She quickly held your shoulders, scanning your body for any injuries.

“Oh my gosh! You’re lucky I pulled you in here quickly,” She exhaled a breath to calm her nerves, “You could have been that guy’s next meal!” 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, an eyebrow raised at her strange demeanor.

“Alastor! The Radio Demon! Y’know, the guy that murdered all those overlords years ago?” 

You raised an eyebrow as her words settled in your head. That demon was the Radio Demon? No way! He was such a gentleman, and rather pleasant too! 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not! I don’t know what happened between the two of you, hopefully not a deal, but you need to stay away from him. He’s nothing but a bad omen!” 

You smiled, shaking your head at her antics. She was just being silly, Alastor saved you from potentially being kidnapped. You doubted he’d lay a finger on you in a harmful manner.

“Well, I brought that seasoning. Why don’t we go take a tour of the place, hm?” You said, pulling her away from the doorway and down the hall.

She nodded, her face lighting up instantly. “Yes, a great idea! I can’t wait to show you the kitchen, we replaced practically everything. The flooring is a beautiful marble tile and…“

She trailed off as her gaze shot to your hand, her eyes widening at the sight. Quickly, she grasped it, and pulled it closer to inspect it. You tensed, what was she doing?

“..what is that on your finger? I didn’t know you wore this kind of jewelry!” 

Following her gaze, you turned your hand slightly to see what she was so enthralled about, and your eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight.

Still perfectly snug on your finger, was that gold ring Alastor had magically placed on you. You assumed that it would have dissolved or vanished when he left, but that small A still glimmered in the overhead light.

“I’ll explain it over dinner.” You simply replied, pulling your hand out of her grip and beginning to walk further into the house. 

Your eyes kept landing on the golden band, though. Alastor not far from your mind as you listened to your friend fill you in on all the renovations. It was quite pretty, and it seemed to look great on you. For a moment, a rather odd thought crossed your mind, causing your cheeks to heat as you lamented over it. 

Would it be so bad if you just.. kept it on? 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

woah, first fic of Alastor! I thought he’d be the perfect guy for this scenario. i wrote the reader as sort of a hopeless romantic bc it’s the complete opposite of al and i thought it was funny

EDIT: Part 2 is coming!!

lmk what you think! :)

[mariasont]

PART I: THE LADY OF SHALOTT

this is what it means to love in verse and violence

part I -> part II -> part III -> part IV -> part V

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: dissociation, detachment, depictions of emotional numbness, exploration of unhealthy coping mechanism, obsessive thought patterns, situationship, canon-type cm violence wc: 1.7k

It feels blasphemous somehow, the serenity of your sleep while he quietly burns up in your atmosphere. Spencer watches anyway, the pain like a necessary liturgy, masochism dressed as ritual.

He thinks of Orpheus. The final glimpse. Desire’s ruinous price. You’re a figure behind glass, beautiful in its fragility, and he presses his longing against it like a handprint left on a window. It won’t hold.

It has to be safer like this. It’s the foundational premise, the condition, the contract he obsessively redraws in his head. You and him, whatever this is — it’s not a relationship. It’s too structured, carefully fenced in. No promises or permanence.

His breath briefly fogging your cold glass before inevitably fading away. 

Finite.

But his mind is disloyal to his efforts. It feeds him poetry at midnight, terrible beautiful things about staying, about softness, about wanting. He loathes it. He hates himself more for listening.

Loss is familiar to him. Predictable, even. The reaching, the missing, the grasping for things already halfway gone. Always phantoms. Always slipping. 

Better, then, to keep you preserved in a delicate status, sheltered, just outside the reach of the damage his presence seems destined to inflict. Because love, when it’s real, doesn’t survive contact with his hands. It’s a lesson he’s been forced to memorize in painful repetition.

There had been no reckless start with you. No heat-drunk declarations made in the haze of midnight or slurred confessions coaxed out by a bottle of wine.

Just something quieter. Slower. A gradual arrangement built on the architecture of sidelong glances and the language of proximity. It began in simplicity — how was your weekend? — and ended in confessions neither of you meant to give.

Until one day, without ceremony, vulnerability became habit. And intimacy, the kind that asked for nothing but the immediacy of bodies, was already there, waiting to be noticed.

Spencer understood that what he craved wasn’t emotional attachment. He didn’t pretend it was. It was physical. It was just sex. But not for the sake of lust or conquest or even pleasure. It was about what sex offered. The temporary illusion of closeness, the feeling of another person’s heat echoing back into him. Fingers skimming ribs, palms pressed to hips. It was a language that bypassed explanation.

He didn’t need to be known. He just needed to be felt. Needed the proof of another heartbeat beside his own.

He refocuses on your sleeping face, mouth tense like you’re fighting something behind your eyes. He’s grown disturbingly adept at interpreting your facial expressions, a proficiency he never consciously sought.

Usually, he leaves before these things become clear, out the door by two at the latest. Tonight, however, the neon glare of the clock on your wall — 2:56 — declares a harsh judgment.

Spencer knows, in some detached sense, he’s violating a fundamental rule of your agreement. 

So why isn’t he already halfway across town, cloistered behind familiar walls?

A simultaneous vibration splinters his thoughts. 

You wake with a sharp inhale. Spencer doesn’t flinch.

He reaches his phone first. One look at the screen is enough, but he answers anyway. Prentiss doesn’t waste words. We have a case. Briefing in thirty.

The call clicks off and he glances up — just in time to catch the look on his face. Sleep-blurred, yes, but also uncertain. Your eyes shift to the clock, then to him. Your lips part slightly, like they might form a question, but close again just as fast. 

He doesn’t offer an answer. You don’t demand one.

Neither of you spoke on the car ride over. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, just… quiet. Still meandering in that liminal place between sleep and awake, not able or willing to summon the energy for idle conversation. 

You had yawned at least four times in fifteen minutes. Spencer had counted without meaning to. He felt the same, half-aware and craving rest he couldn’t seem to find.

His exhaustion had been more pronounced than ever over the past couple months. At his own apartment, he sleeps. More or less. As well as anyone in his position could hope to. Enough hours, no interruptions outside of case hours.

He doesn’t wake to the sound of shouting or scraping medal anymore. A soft bed. No concrete slab. No cellmate shifting in the dark.

And still, he wakes up like he’s been emptied. Like rest is no longer a cure, just a placeholder.

He hasn’t admitted it out loud, but a theory’s been forming anyway. One that begins and ends with you.

The headaches are back too. He hadn’t missed them. They weren’t like before, thankfully, no blinding spikes of pain, no full-body shutdowns, but steady. Insistent. A dull pressure rooted behind his eyes, quietly leeching whatever thin layer of energy he manages to remain overnight.

Even the lights in the office feel hostile today, too bright and too cold. Fluorescence like a blade.

He blinks against it, resisting the childish urge to cover his face with his hands.

Instead, he squints toward the board. Three victims. All women. Early twenties.

“Three different methods. Drowning, strangulation, stabbing,” Rossi says, tapping the board with two fingers. “No clear pattern.”

Spencer frowns, eyes narrowing. “Unless that is the pattern,” he murmurs.

Emily looks over. “You think he’s varying methods on purpose?”

“It’s possible,” Spencer replies, suppressing a wince as the pressure in his skull pulses again. “Typically, yes, killers rely on routine or repetition. But each of these is too precise. Too controlled. If he were experimenting, we’d see hesitation, evidence of trial and error.”

“Could he be trying to confuse us? Distract us from the real motive?”

“That could be part of it,” he says, “but there could be something else. He could be assigning meaning to each method. A symbolic system. One we haven’t decoded yet.”

“So, he’s playing games,” You say grimly. Spencer almost reaches for you, just to soften the crease in your forehead. He stops himself.

Games. 

It lands wrong. He hopes that’s not what this is. He hopes the unsub isn’t clever, isn’t strategic, isn’t the type to leave messages behind like breadcrumbs, dragging them out just long enough to make it personal.

Spencer desperately needs this case to be clean. Not because simplicity implies ease, nor because brutality is diminished by brevity, but because he doesn’t possess the mental bandwidth to endure another protracted game of psychological chess.

He insists, adamantly, that it’s driven purely by morality, by justice, because every unanswered crime feels like a stain that seeps into his conscience.

But there’s another part of him that wonders if he’s simply worn down by impatience. If he wants this to be over so he can rest. Wants the luxury of collapsing into your warmth again, tucked behind the shield of excuses he’s been recycling since the start.

And yet, he’s not naive enough to believe rest will come after this.

There will be another case. Then another.

A carousel of grief dressed in new faces. He wonders, sometimes, where he’s supposed to draw the line. To quit before the work finishes hollowing him out completely.

Maybe then, he could allow himself to love you without conditions.

You would make a good wife. You would make a devastating home out of someone like him. Maybe there’s a version of this world, some other branch split clean at the moment he walked into the BAU, where you and him are just ordinary, happy, untouched by bureaucracy and regret.

Maybe.

But not here. Here, the air is dry, the grass brittle beneath his boots, and someone else’s ending waits in the dirt.

His attention flicks to a knot of wildflowers half-trampled by the path, their petals bruised beneath morning’s glare. They look like devotion offered too late. A gesture turned grotesque by where it landed.

She’s been placed, not dropped — the victim. That much is clear. Her body rests in the field, arms folded, face angled upward. Her hair spreads around her like a halo, washed-out gold against the soil. Despite the violence that ended her life, her face remains eerily serene. Mouth slightly open, as if paused mid-word.

“It’s strange, right? Like… the way she’s posed. It almost feels like he cared.” You glanced down, eyes catching on the blood-dark hole through her sternum. “Almost.”

His eyes trace the curve of her shoulder, the positioning of her hands.

“There’s a difference between cruelty and care,” he murmurs. “But I think some people forgot where the line is.”

Spencer crouches slowly, joints stiff with the cold. His gloved hands hover just above the victim’s frame, careful not to disturb the scene.

Why the effort? 

The arrangement suggests something close to tenderness, though the context makes that hard to stomach. Reverence and murder rarely coexist comfortably. Maybe it isn’t about the death at all. Maybe it’s about the preservation. An attempt to suspend something fleeting. Youth. Beauty. Innocence. As if holding her like this could capture forever what can’t naturally endure.

“Do you ever think about how we show up after the worst thing someone’s gone through? And then just… leave?”

He stands slowly, spine aching from crouching too long.

Your face tilts toward the wind and sun catches on a smudge near your jaw. His fingers reach for it this time, brushing over it before the texture of the glove registers.

He drops his hand.

“You had something there.” A pause. “And now you probably have something else.”

“It’s fine. I’ve had worse things on my face.”

“I really hope you mean frosting or face paint,” he mutters.

He knows what you meant. Semantics aside, he’d studied the evidence up close.

The joke had bought him time, but not much. You’d asked him something and he dodged it. Clockwork.

“Yeah. I think about it. Feels like patching bullet holes with band-aids,” he says finally. “Better than letting it bleed out though.”

“Sure.”

The word came out thin, like you didn’t really mean it. He didn’t respond — just watched as techs pass by, then started walking.

The drive back was quiet again. You were scrolling through case notes, thumb dragging lethargic circles over the pages, eyes vacant and half-present.

You never played music. He always gripped the wheel like he was expecting something to go wrong. 

Driving made him anxious. Watching you drive made him worse. You hit curbs like they were suggestions and got distracted by things like birds on telephone wires. He’d said once that riding with you felt like tempting fate on purpose. You laughed. 

You asked if he was okay somewhere near the overpass. He said yeah, quietly and kept his eyes on the road, didn’t trust his face not to betray the lie. That was enough of an answer.

The rest of the day bled out without resolution. By evening, you were both too tired to pretend the lack of leads didn’t matter. 

When you asked if he wanted to stay the night, he knew you expected a hesitation. A caveat. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to. It was another rule you both upheld — not overnights during cases. It was too complicated.

But his agreement came fast. He didn’t pause. Didn’t qualify. He should have. But Spencer’s rules bend with you, and lately, they’ve started to fold, orgami-thin and splitting at the creases.

You step back to let him in, barefoot, already half-undressed in the way you usually were after midnight. 

Spencer keeps his eyes open the whole time. It wasn’t necessarily about watching but more so remembering. If this was wrong, he needed to hold onto it tightly enough to justify the transgression.

Your mouth against his, your hands pulling him in, the curve of your throat, the shiver under his palm. All these pieces of proof he’d replay later, alone, dissecting memories in the silence of his apartment.

He’s not sure he’ll ever know what fragments of these stolen moments he’s allowed to believe in. 

He kisses your skin, fooling himself into believing it was sufficient, that passion could remain confined. 

But even tempered glass has its breaking point.

The mirror crack’d from side to side; / ‘The curse is come upon me,’ cried / The Lady of Shalott.

part II

[baisemains]

I know what you tell your friends

sydney adamu x gn!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: drinking, smoking weed, cursing, angst, jealousy, syd being mean to reader

description: your night out with syd takes a turn for the worst / pt. 2 to ‘is it casual now?’

ao3 link | spotify playlist

previous | next // sydney adamu masterlist

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You and Sydney take the train instead of driving in case you decide to drink, which at this point, is a guaranteed, you don’t think you can handle the rest of the night around her sober. The stolen glances and arm grazes among light conversation on the ride there have you counting down the seconds until you arrive.

When you arrive at the venue, you bypass the line and go straight to security, giving the tall man at the door a hug. Syd stands to the side, a bit awkward since you never actually informed her how you’d be getting in. She had assumed you got tickets the old fashioned way, but that apparently wasn’t the case as she watched the unnamed man lift you into a bear hug.

A few moments later, you’re finally put down and you turn to face her, laughing and fixing your coat. “Syd, this is Johnny, one of my closest friends from college, and the best baker you’ll ever meet,” you clap your hand on his massive bicep and Syd is sure she felt a small earthquake. As you turn to him to introduce Sydney, he’s already sticking his hand out in her direction, a shit eating grin on his face. “So we finally meet.”

Sydney raises an eyebrow at that and sends you a questioning look, shaking his hand nonetheless. Johnny pulls her into a similar hug, minus lifting her off the ground, and Syd lets out a surprised squeak. You feel heat start to creep up your neck, of course she figured you talked to your friends about her, she did the same, but not to the degree that they’d react that friendly.

He lets her go soon after and ushers you guys inside, but not before you tell him you’ll talk to him after the show.

“So…what did he mean by ‘finally meet?’” You pretend not to hear her, using the noise of the crowd to your advantage. What are you supposed to say, “Yeah I talk to my friends about how I’ve been catching feelings for you for months, even though you said if that ever happened, our situation would end and I think I’d rather die than do that so I’ve been keeping my mouth shut!” You could only imagine, your pride would never recover.

The bar finally comes into view and you send a little thank you upstairs as you turn to ask Syd if she wants anything. She’s closer than you expect, the throng of people pushing you towards each other, so much so that your noses nearly touch and you jump back a little.

Your eyes meet and you see her chest rise and fall in your peripheral vision. Shaking the dangerous thoughts threatening to form in your head, you lean in to do what you originally came here for. “I’m gonna get a drink, you want anything?”

Sydney has to really focus on your words, your proximity to her body throwing her off in a way that hasn’t happened in a while. She wonders if she even should, drinking always relaxes her and right now, she feels like she should be on high alert. But with the way your breath feels against her neck, turning you down is the last thing on her mind. That, and the fact that she really needs to keep her hands busy before they get her in trouble.

You get the bartender’s attention after a few minutes and order your drinks, doubles for both of you, agreeing that the line is way too long to come back for another later. Clinking your glasses together and taking a sip, the delicious burn makes its way from your throat to your stomach, much like the feeling Sydney has been giving you all night. It’s only then that you realize you’ve barely eaten today and that you’d better babysit your drink so you don’t feel it so quickly.

Seeing how the floor near the stage is filling in, you tell Sydney you should start heading over so you get a good spot, wanting to be able to see your friend perform. “Grab onto me so we don’t get separated, okay?” You assume she’ll grab onto the back of your coat so when you feel her graze your hand and latch onto your sleeve, you almost stumble. You’re suddenly grateful for the low lighting and the fact that she’s walking behind you because you’re starting to sweat, making a beeline for the side stage.

The two of you reach your spots and settle in, taking sips of your drinks as the lights go down and the show starts. Syd actually enjoys herself, your friend’s band is as good as you said they were, their music was relaxing and intricate all at once, and as the show ends, she finds herself grateful to you for inviting her, she really needed this. It also helped that she’d finished her drink and was definitely feeling the buzz.

Throughout the show, you two had exchanged content glances, nodding to the music and just enjoying each other’s company, all while never speaking a word. You wait for the crowd to disperse a little before starting to head out yourselves when Johnny comes over and throws his arms over both of you. “Don’t tell me you guys are leaving before the after party?”

You push him off with a laugh, not wanting him to get too comfortable around Sydney and blow your cover, what little was left of it anyway. “What, you mean everyone going to Jen’s and drinking there?” Your friend in the band had told you that there was a plan to head to another friend’s place after the show to catch up, as they hadn’t performed in Chicago in a while. You look at Syd to gauge her reaction but she’s stoic as ever and you scratch your neck, suddenly nervous.

The lines are so blurred at this point, you’re not even sure how to go about the situation. You’re not really friends because you guys don’t spend time together outside of a bed but you’re definitely not strangers, far too familiar with each other’s bodies. Is it weird to ask her if she wants to go? The fact that she even agreed to come to the concert was mind blowing, but now you’re not sure when to stop pushing your luck. Fuck it, we ball, you think to yourself as you look to Syd and ask, “What do you feel like doing?”

She makes eye contact with you, and not until she answers do you let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “Why the hell not, sure.” You freeze for a moment, not realizing Syd said yes, and Johnny claps a hand on each of your shoulders, easing the tension in the air. You try to stifle a grin but she sees it anyways and matches it with her own.

The three of you make your way backstage, you and Johnny goofing off and Syd walking a couple of paces behind you two, amused at your childlike antics. When you walk into the green room, everyone has a beer in hand and are talking among the music playing from someone’s broken speaker.

Someone from the band, Syd assumes, spots you come in and cheers. More heads turn in your direction and she feels awkward standing off to the side as you make your rounds saying hi to everyone. You make your way back to her and point to all the people in the room one by one as you introduce them to her.

Syd doesn’t catch anyone’s name until you say Jen, and for some reason, her stomach twists a little. She had noticed you two being especially friendly when you said hi, but now that Syd could see how pretty she was, standing there smiling with her freshly dyed red hair and perfectly fitting baby tee, a small pit makes itself at home in her gut. What the fuck, she thought to herself, since when does she care about you being friendly with other people. Syd shakes off the thought and waves in everyone’s general direction as they all start packing their stuff to head out.

Apparently Jen’s apartment is within walking distance of the venue so off you go, like a field trip full of school kids. You notice Syd’s mood changed after meeting everyone so you check in to make sure she’s still up for going.

“Hey…you okay? We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, the train station is also in this direction.” You didn’t think to mention that you and Jen had a fling a few years ago, the leftover tension still tangible, apparently. Now you’re worried that you ruined any kind of progress between you and Syd and the thought makes you uneasy. Syd catches herself and realizes she’s basically been sulking since you left the venue and quickly corrects herself.

“What? No, yeah, I’m fine, it’s just colder out here than it was earlier.” She forces a smile and you don’t really believe her but decide not to push it any further.

When you arrive, there’s already mood lighting and soft music playing through a better quality speaker than there was in the green room. Everyone spreads out through the living room and kitchen, and you take off your coat before turning to Syd and reaching for hers. She lets you take it, but not without a twitch in her eyebrow, this being more domestic than you’re used to. You hang them up and lead her to the couch, there being just enough room for the two of you to sit down.

After a couple minutes of small talk with your friends, you look at Syd expectantly. “I’m gonna grab a drink from the kitchen, you want anything?” You echo your words from earlier and though there’s much more space between you two this time, she still feels her breath quicken.

“Yeah, I’ll have whatever you’re having, thanks.” She doesn’t even care what it is at this point, she just wants to relax. Leaning further into the couch, she looks around at everyone, gauging the vibe of the room when she feels the seat next to her dip. She turns, opening her mouth to ask you how you got done so quick when she sees Johnny, a knowing smile on his face. “Expecting someone else?”

Syd’s eyebrows quirk as she replies. “Sort of, unless you’re the delivery man.” She laughs, trying not to let him see her slight disappointment. He seemed like a nice guy, she just didn’t know him well enough to strike up a a conversation. That didn’t stop him from trying, though.

“So…,” he drums his hands on his knees, “I’m surprised you decided to come out tonight.”

That catches Syd off guard, how the hell did he know her well enough to know what she would or wouldn’t do? She felt a bit of attitude slip through when she replied, “And why is that?”

He immediately catches your vibe and throws his hands up, trying to show you he means no harm. “No reason, just that you-know-who says you don’t go out much. But it’s good that you came, shows initiative.”

Now Syd is getting straight up annoyed, what she does or doesn't do is none of anyone else’s business. Johnny senses that he fucked up and excuses himself elsewhere, apologizing as he leaves. She watches him walk away and sees that you’re still in the kitchen, now chatting up Jen apparently. You lean in to say something to her and when she pushes your shoulder, laughing, Syd feels her skin prickle, and she has to look away before she starts rolling her eyes.

You come back over to Syd a few minutes later, two drinks in hand, and sit down next to her when you feel the tension rolling off of her. Unsure of how to proceed, she was fine when you left, you simply stretch your hand out and hand her what’s now become a sort of peace offering. “Here’s your drink?”

Syd takes it without a word and takes a big gulp as you just stare at her, wide eyed. She realizes how she reacted and gruffly responds, “Thanks.”

“So…some of the guys were gonna go outside and smoke, you wanna come? If not, I’ll stay in here with you, I’m fine either way.” Looking between her eyes, you look for any hint to how she’s feeling but you come up with nothing. You brought her here with the intention of her getting to know your friends better, if she was open to it, but now you’re not sure what’s gonna happen.

To your surprise, Syd finishes the rest of her drink, stands up and gives you an expectant look. “You coming or what?” You’re a bit in awe, you've never seen her be this…out of character, for lack of a better phrase. You follow her outside into the brisk night air, grabbing your coats on the way.

Everyone’s already started by the time you two arrive, so you just slot yourselves in where you fit. Truth be told, you didn’t even know if Syd smoked when you asked her, but the way she reacted made it seem like it was an all the time thing for her, so you didn’t question it.

You don’t notice until the joint is passed to you that Jen is stood on your right, and Syd is on your left, which puts you in the middle of a very tense (and hot) sandwich. You take a long drag and look up at the night sky, trying to collect your bearings, as you close your eyes and let the smoke settle in your lungs. Letting it out through your nose and taking another, smaller drag as you pass it to Syd, the weed taking effect almost instantly.

The joint makes its way around a few more times, most everyone having gone back inside now, until it’s Jen’s turn to pass it to you again and you’re waiting when you feel her grab your chin and press the joint to your lips. Your reaction is delayed, eyes widening slightly as you taste Jen’s cherry lipgloss, she must have just reapplied it, you think. She laughs and takes her hand back, and you can feel a pair of deep brown eyes burning into the back of your skull. You’re quick to move away from her and lean back against the railing, inhaling and staring down at the ground, not wanting to look anywhere in Syd’s direction.

Passing the joint to Syd without looking at her, she takes it and you think you’re in the clear for a few moments until your face is grabbed again, but in the opposite direction, and you feel surprisingly warm lips cover your own. Your brain starts shutting down all coherent thought as you realize that Syd’s not technically kissing you, she’s shotgunning, but you don’t really care about the difference at the moment. You go along with it, mostly because you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to, and faintly in the background, you hear Johnny coughing and Jen giggling.

The two of you pull apart and you exhale all the smoke now in your lungs, your entire body heating up despite the chill in the air. The shock on your face is evident as Syd takes another drag, smirking the entire time. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and your brain has turned to mush but you can’t decide between saying something or leaving so you just stand there with your mouth agape, your feet rooted to the ground.

Soon after that, the four of you finish up and head back inside, Syd grabbing some water for you both as you catch Johnny’s eye across the room, basically saying what the fuck was that. Syd yawns next to you a little while later and you remember that she has to go in early the next morning so you start making your rounds and say goodbye to your friends. When you reach Jen, she whispers something in your ear that throws you for a major loop. “You’re welcome, now go get your girl.” Syd sees the interaction between you two but isn’t able to make out what Jen says so her irritation flares right back up, leaving you to practically chase her down the street.

When you finally catch up to her, she feels worlds away, but your mind hasn’t stopped thinking about her little stunt earlier and you were trying to think about how to broach the subject. She clearly is not going to do it first, you know how she shuts down when she’s upset, but you can’t let her brush it off this time like she always does.

Once you’re both on the train, you realize it’s completely empty, leaving the two of you sitting in an uncomfortable silence, the occasional sigh leaving Syd’s lips. She knows she crossed a line doing that in front of your friends, but when she saw Jen get that close to you, it’s like a fuse blew and she had to take back control. Control of what, she wasn’t entirely sure yet; her emotions, the situation, you, it was all a toss up at this point.

Now she’s left with a swarm of feelings, none of which she wants to deal with at the moment, especially not around you. Her leg is frantically bouncing, and all she can think is what the hell did I do…

The rest of the train ride is awkward as the tension that has been building all night continues to hang in the air. You sit in silence, both deep in thought, neither sure how to start the conversation. Syd fidgets, alternating between adjusting her hair and staring out the window, avoiding looking at you. You can sense her nervous energy, and it only makes the situation worse.

Finally, once you reach your apartment, you can't stand the silence anymore. You turn to her and ask, "Can we talk?" She looks up at you, surprised. "Yeah, sure."

You lead her inside and upstairs, both of you taking off your coats and shoes in complete silence. Usually this part of your routine is comforting, almost domestic, but at the moment, it’s suffocating, and you need to do something about it.

Finally, you both reach the living room and sit on the couch face to face, neither of you knowing where to start. The distance between you feels insurmountable, and you need to bridge the gap somehow.

“So…what was that tonight?” You’re mostly referencing the moment outside with your friends, but her behavior tonight was all over the place. Syd looks at you and sighs in irritation, her eyes dropping to her lap as she starts fiddling with her fingers. She knows she doesn’t have the right to be mad, but the only way she knows how to protect her feelings is to deflect or shut down, and she chooses the latter.

After a few more seconds of silence, you realize that this is her defense mechanism, a way to shield herself from being vulnerable. You feel a pang of frustration, wishing she would just be honest and open up. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking again.

“Syd, I’m just trying to understand. You were fine at the beginning of the night, you seemed to have a good time at the show, then when we got the party, you did a 180 on me and shut down, but then the whole thing outside…”, you didn’t even know what to call it. “What happened?”

Where do I even start, she thought. Inviting her out with your friends, then dragging her to another party, all while dangling some girl in your face? This is exactly why she has rules, so the lines don’t blur like this, she should’ve never agreed to go out. She stands up and begins pacing the floor as your eyes follow her, bracing yourself for the incoming storm.

“We’re not dating! I don’t even know why you wanted me to come hang out with you in the first damn place, you know the rules of our situation.” Her chest is heaving at this point, she knows she’s in the wrong but she needs someone to be upset at, and it’s not gonna be herself.

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you refuse to let her deflect responsibility for her actions. Now you stand up and take a step toward her, your eyes locking with hers.

"First of all, I didn't drag you to anything. You are a grown ass woman, and you're more than capable of making your own decisions. You chose to come with me tonight, no one forced you."

You pause, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Your frustration is evident, but underneath it all, there's a streak of pain.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "Second of all, what I want is for us to be honest with each other. We have an arrangement, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be open and communicative."

She stands there, arms crossed and her face set in a frown, now avoiding your gaze. You feel your frustration mounting higher and higher, but you know that you have to find a way to get through to her, somehow.

"Syd, I’m so tired of this. I'm tired of us avoiding talking about anything serious just because you’re afraid to get hurt." That finally sets her off, you see the blaze in her eyes and you know you’re really in for it now. With clenched fists, she finally meets your gaze again, her expression fierce and defensive.

"Don't act like you know me, like you know what I’m feeling," she practically spits out. "You don’t know anything about me, about what I’ve been through.”

Her words are sharp and biting, but you can tell that beneath her anger, there's a hint of pain, a vulnerability that she’s desperately trying to hide.

“You’re right Syd! I don’t know what you’ve been through, because you won’t fucking tell me!” Your hands clutch your hair, you feel like you’re going round and round in circles with this girl. “That’s my whole point, that’s been my point this entire goddamn time!” You’re talking to a brick wall at this point, but you can’t stop yourself, you’ve kept a lid on your feelings all these months and they’ve finally boiled over.

Like pouring gasoline on a fire, you can almost see the steam coming from her ears. “You can’t fucking force someone to be vulnerable! That has to come on their own time, on my own time. All the fucking coffee drop offs and pizza nights in the world are not permission for you to come try and force me to open up to you, who the hell do you think you are?”

You feel the start of a lump forming in your throat, those coffee drop offs and pizza nights were many of the bright spots in your life lately, and the way she’s brushing them off as nothing is more painful than you expected it to be. At this point, you can tell the conversation is heading towards the point of no return, and you’re grasping at straws to get her to listen to you.

"I'm just trying to understand, Syd! I'm trying to break down these damn walls you've put up around yourself. I don't want to force you, but I can't keep going on like this. We've been doing this damn dance for months now, and I can't keep pretending it's not tearing me apart.” You know you don’t have the right to say that, but you’re hoping something will get through to her at this point.

She sneers at that. “Yeah, well no one asked you to do that, did they? You took that upon yourself, with your fucking savior complex, so don’t stand there and try and make me feel guilty for your choices. I’m not some stray off the street you can nurse back to health and make yourself feel good about, try fucking fixing yourself first before you come for me.”

As soon as the words leave Syd’s mouth, she regrets them but her pride holds her back from apologizing. She’s always had to be the one to guard her heart and that’s not gonna change for anyone, not even you.

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, the fact that she thinks you’re trying to fix her, but more so the realization that she thinks so low of you. Your disappointment is palpable, shoulders hunching over as you accept the futility of the situation. You look at her, the woman you care for so deeply, and you feel your heart shattering.

"Maybe you’re right," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I did this to myself. Maybe I was a fool to think that I could help you, or make you feel something more."

You shake your head, the bitter taste of regret in your mouth.

She starts to feel a pang of guilt, her heart clenching at the sight of your slumped shoulders and defeated expression but her pride and fear keep her lips sealed shut. She has to stay on defense, it's all she knows.

You stand there, a swarm of thoughts running through your head, when she finally speaks. “I think it’s time we end this.”

Her words are like a blade to your heart, cutting through the last fragile threads of hope you'd been holding onto. You can feel the tears stinging your eyes, but you try to hold them back, refusing to let her see you break.

"You're probably right," you say quietly, not trusting your voice if you speak any louder. "This isn't working. We're not working."

You can feel the pain of loss already seeping into your soul, but you swallow it down, determined to hold onto what little dignity you have left.

You turn on your heel to walk towards your bedroom, and as you reach the doorway, you call over your shoulder. “Stay here tonight because it’s so late, but I think you should leave first thing in the morning.” You don’t wait for an answer as you step into your room and close the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding unusually loud in the quiet of the night. As you slide down against the door, the sobs you’ve been holding in all night finally break free, the pain and heartache you’d been holding onto for so long coming out in wave after wave of tears.

You try to muffle the sound by bringing the sleeves of your shirt up to your face, but the grief is loud and all-consuming. The thought of what could have been, and what would never be, feels like a knife twisting in your gut.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

okay! that was way longer and somehow angstier than I intended but I’m so proud of it 😆 I may go back and edit part 1 just so the overall vibes match a little better cause I feel like this one took a hard left turn but I did set out to write a heart wrenching piece so! feel like I did that lol anyways, comments are always welcome, good, bad, otherwise, as long as they’re constructive! lemme know if you want a part 3 cause honestly, leaving it here would be kinda fun 🫣

[juiceortizprospect34]

Ghosts We Carry: Chapter 8

Morning arrived too soon. Juice had barely managed three hours of sleep before his alarm jolted him awake. His eyes felt gritty, and his neck ached from hunching over keyboards all night. But adrenaline quickly cleared the fog as he remembered what he'd discovered.

Zobelle. Back in their lives like a recurring nightmare.

He showered quickly, mind racing through scenarios. Should he tell Clay immediately about Zobelle's involvement, or wait until after the hack was complete? The revelation would shift everyone's focus from the money to revenge—and he needed to stay focused for the next hour.

By 8:30, he was back at his station, running final checks on his program. The clubhouse was coming to life around him—boots on hardwood, coffee brewing, low conversations. Juice barely noticed, locked in his digital world as he fortified their counterstrike.

"Morning," Jax said, appearing at his door with two mugs. He handed one to Juice. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Juice replied, accepting the coffee gratefully. "Been a long night."

Jax pulled up a chair. "Clay told me what you're doing. Bold move."

Juice glanced at the clock—8:42 AM. "It's the right move. These guys need to learn that SAMCRO isn't an easy target."

"And you're sure this can't be traced back to us?" Jax's tone was measured, cautious.

"Positive. I'm bouncing through servers across three continents. By the time they figure out what happened, the money will be back in our accounts and their client list will be headline news."

Jax nodded slowly. "Impressive." He studied Juice for a moment. "You've changed, brother. Time was you'd have asked permission five times before doing something like this."

Juice met his gaze. "Maybe I just needed to stop doubting myself."

"Or maybe you found something worth fighting for beyond the club," Jax said knowingly. "Elena?"

Juice focused on his screen, uncomfortable with Jax's perception. "She's just collateral damage in this. Like everyone else they targeted."

"Right," Jax said, clearly unconvinced. He stood up. "Clay wants everyone in the chapel at nine to hear how this plays out."

As he left, Juice pulled the encrypted drive from his pocket, turning it over in his hand. The Zobelle bombshell would have to wait until after the hack was complete. One battle at a time.

At precisely 9:00 AM, surrounded by expectant faces around the reaper table, Juice initiated the sequence. His fingers flew across the keyboard, making final adjustments as his program penetrated HaviCorp's systems.

"We're in," he announced, tension evident in his voice. "Phase one complete."

Clay leaned forward. "English, Juice."

"I've bypassed their security protocols and triggered the funds transfer. Our money is being routed back through the same shell companies they used, but in reverse. Should hit our accounts within the hour."

"And what about these assholes? What happens to them?" Tig asked, his eyes alight with anticipation.

Juice allowed himself a small smile. "In about thirty seconds, their entire operation gets exposed. Every client, every hack, every payoff—all sent to federal cybercrime units and major security firms." He looked up at his brothers. "HaviCorp is done."

A chorus of approval circled the table. Juice watched the progress bar on his screen, each percentage tick bringing them closer to victory.

Then his stomach dropped.

"Something's wrong," he muttered, fingers frantically typing as warning messages flooded his screen. "They've detected the intrusion. They're fighting back."

"What does that mean?" Clay demanded.

"It means they were waiting for me," Juice said, struggling to maintain control of his program. "This is a trap."

The chapel fell silent as the implications sank in. Juice's mind raced. If they knew he was coming, it wasn't just luck or good security. Someone had tipped them off.

His screen flashed red, then black, before a single message appeared:

*Nice try, Juan Carlos. See you soon.*

Juice felt the blood drain from his face. They hadn't just known SAMCRO would counterattack. They knew him. His real name.

"What happened?" Bobby asked, breaking the silence.

"We've been compromised," Juice said, his voice hollow. "The money transfer went through, but they've got my digital signature now. They know exactly who hit them."

"So what? Let them come," Tig scoffed.

Juice shook his head, looking at Clay. "There's something else you need to know. I found out who hired HaviCorp to hit us." He pulled out the drive and placed it on the table. "It was Zobelle."

The name fell like a hammer in the room. Clay's face hardened to granite. Jax's eyes darkened with cold fury. Everyone around the table straightened, old wounds suddenly fresh again.

"You're sure?" Clay asked, his voice deadly quiet.

"Hundred percent. The payment came from a Zobelle Industries subsidiary. He's back, and he's picking up right where he left off."

Clay stood abruptly. "Chapel doors stay closed. We're on lockdown until further notice." He fixed Juice with a penetrating stare. "I want everything you've got on this. And I mean everything."

As the gravity of the situation descended on the room, Juice's phone vibrated in his pocket. A text from Elena.

*Someone just tried to break into my apartment. I'm OK, but scared. Can we talk?*

Juice stared at the message, then at the faces of his brothers preparing for war.

The world he'd carefully tried to balance—the club, Elena, his identity—was collapsing in on itself.

And somewhere out there, Ethan Zobelle was watching it all unfold according to plan.

[gasmeros]

Regarding the ask game what’s the S1 solstice to boat au about???

hi foamyyyy! i talked about it a bit in this post

it's basically a winter solstice au where. it's like. im ficjign struggling how do i explain this quickly. fucjing. fuck it, my snippet is half the fic notes, i dont have much of any proper writing to share for this one anyway

content warnings include mindless rambling, zhao, and threats of violence/execution

s1 winter solstice episode au, very much adjacent to that tumblr post (linked) about zuko getting locked up with sokka and katara and them figuring out about Zuko's fucked up family life.

similar but we bypass the actual verbal conversation by having zhao do taunting stuff cuz he be like that. he says stuff like episode 3 about ozai not wanting zuko back, about him failing his 2ish year long search, about how when they drag him back home, there might even be a public execution for his crimes, wouldn't that be nice? nothing but the best for the prince. and maybe zhao will even get to watch. ("he wouldn't." "can you really be certain, my prince? after what he did to your face? and just for mouthing off, too. how would he punish a real crime?")

then zuko showing how desperate he is to not get dragged back to the fire nation by doing some fucked up dangerus type of fighting back. like, wiggling, screaming, biting, full on child in a grocery store who has learned how to glue themselves to the floor type of reaction to being arrested, except this child has fire and no limits. good chance for that idea where zuko superheats a metal gag and bites through it, burning himself in the process. would be neat to have zuko spit a shard of almost molten metal at zhao cuz fuck him. maybe keep the whole scene chained to the pillar instead in some other room like these fics usually go?

so water siblings realize that something is most definitely Up based on zhao's words and Zuko's reactions, and when roku starts to tear the temple apart, they hit a wall where they realize that zuko's been trapped by the lava flow like them, and while they have appa to hop onto, he doesn't have an escape. so cue these kids being Kind and promptly yanking him along cuz the alternative is zuko burning alive

so we get Bison Time, wherein zuko's still not a fan of anything that's happening, but compared to how he was acting with zhao, he's downright pleasant. which is not to say that he's actually pleasant, he is very much being an angry brat who's like one second away from trying to fight them while still on the bison. the siblings have a lot of questions, because what zhao said about banishment and two years searching and public executions was fucking wack and they need to know why he said that, why zuko fought so hard that he thought burning his mouth as bad as he did was an acceptable trade off. they know why, but they need to hear it.

zuko does not let them hear it. he yells and doesn't answer any questions and demands they put him down or else. bits about the mouth burns obviously bothering him, just cuz im me and im predictable

they end up going to drop him off at his ship cuz his crew wont attack without a command, and zuko's not so dumb to make them attack the bison he's on. they end up making him swear to not do anything until after they fly away

potential bit where they fly over to Zuko's ship, still in fire nation waters, and find its got a zhao shadow. so zuko, while not at all wanting to actually say it out loud, does not want to go back to his ship until the shadow leaves or they're out of fire nation waters, cuz he will absolutely be arrested. cue more gaang being concerned about the arresting thing, and zuko basically pulling his own teeth to ask if he can wait on the bison until it's safe.

Eventually theyre able to land on zuko's ship without risk of zuko being arrested. zuko keeps his word and doesn't let anyone attack until after they leave, and THEN. aang is a smartass and takes advantage of that by just. not flying away :) so zuko can't do anything, cuz then he'd break his word!! that's pretty fuckin dishonorable!! zuko would like to murder aang.

(really aang needs a moment to talk with the siblings because if what he gleaned from the conversation is true, he can't in good conscience just leave zuko to his fool's errand for an abusive father. they need more information, and they have to do something, cuz this is not ok. the siblings agree, though with much more caution because that's been forced into them by growing up in a war)

cue s1 gaang and zuko tea party

and so the whole fuckin fic takes place on zuko's ship cuz aang is be a pedantic little snot and zuko's autism sense of honor wont let him break a promise

i have maybe 300 words of actual writing for this, and im not sure how i feel about those words. this is like one of the first fics i tried to write for atla, which, like most of my atla fics, has dug itself a very comfy hole to sleep in. i'd love to get anywhere with it, if only i had the motivation

[misty-moth]

I finished writing this the day I made this blog, but just uh… let it sit in my docs. But I shall now set it free (๑˘ᵕ˘) ‘tis but a silly little Clavis story, but it made me happy.

Ps: figured out how tags work now, so I’ll be reposting my fics without notes… I have learned this day.

Divider: chachachannah

Clavis fluff, 1317 words

Bright and early that morning (or as early in the morning as his grumbly older brother would allow), Clavis sat in silence while parsing through the daily paperwork for documents that Chev would need to address versus the ones he himself would be completing. He was nearly finished sorting them when he heard a knock on the door. Knowing full-well who that meek knock belonged to, Clavis opened the door himself.

“Ah, sweet Belle. Your dutiful punctuality is so refreshing, you know that?” Clavis glanced down at the newest pile of paperwork, reaching out his hand.

But Belle returned his smile while firmly brushing past him. “Don’t worry, Clavis, I remembered you saying how busy you are this week. I’ve sorted these out, and they are all meant for Prince Chevelair.”

Clavis watched with slight bewilderment as she brazenly placed the stack on the Brutal Beast’s desk before quietly exiting.

Puzzled, he glanced back at his brother. “Oh dear, it appears our sweet Belle is gunning for my job! I can check those again for—“

“Don’t bother.” Chevelair had already begun the top document of the newest pile after a quick scan.

Clavis blinked before shrugging, plopping back down into his seat.

They returned to their usual silence until Clavis heard a snort. He looked over at Chev who was reading what appeared to be a hand-written letter. Chevalier’s expression was ever-so-subtly humored, and Clavis strained to see that the envelope had been addressed under Belle’s name.

“Aha! I was curious why the little rabbit was acting so coy. Something amusing?” Clavis began to stand before Chev firmly replied.

“You needn't worry about it. Continue your work.”

Clavis’ grin slipped. He was stuck in a strange sitting/standing position, pondering his next move. Chev still held the note, which appeared to only be one page. He must have already finished reading it, right? With a final “hmph” and that same aggravating smirk, he placed it beside his right elbow and continued his paperwork.

Clavis pried his eyes away, activating his peripheral into overdrive as he attempted to study the envelope from across the room. Surely he could somehow read the contents through that paper sheathe with enough mental fortitude.

An agonizing half hour went by with zero luck on the x-ray vision, when suddenly— the envelope! It moved! Clavis nearly jumped as Chev retrieved the letter and unceremoniously placed it in his desk drawer. Clavis watched in horror as Chev retrieved a small key, sealing away the secret treasure.

Chev stood, shifting the rest of the documents into a neat pile before heading toward the exit, key in hand.

“Ah— Chev!” But Clavis’ call went unanswered. The door clicked closed, and he practically launched himself over to his brother’s desk.

Clavis unleashed his most dramatic sigh as he analyzed the small lock placed there. His extracurricular activities gave him all of the talents needed to bypass this lock’s “security”, no issues there. But it meant going all the way back to his room and shuffling through his “hobby bag”, which he had neglected to reorganize properly after his last stunt. He was grateful, at least, that his brother probably wouldn’t return in the next hour...

Clavis set out, gliding quickly through the halls, before entering his own room. He did his best to remain calm and steady, lest he jostle his goody bag and make the jumbled mess even worse. He finally held the properly sized picklock above him triumphantly. Resealing his personal quarters, he did his best to look calm and collected on his way back to the office as there were now a few people roaming the halls. Turning the last corner, he spotted his loyal sidekick Cyran speaking with Chev’s poor lackey Cyril.

“Ah, I love a sweet reunion between friends! What brought on this little meeting?” Clavis joined them, now just outside of the office. Cyran and Cyril opened the door, allowing Clavis to enter first before filing in.

“Cyril was telling me that Prince Chevalier needed him to bring him some of today’s documents.” Cyran stood to the side of the room as Cyril began shuffling through the day’s paperwork, pulling a few pieces out.

But then…no… Clavis flinched as Cyril pulled out the key. He watched the note being lifted before being placed atop the pile. Clavis began to speak, but Cyril promptly apologized while stating that Prince Chevalier had requested his haste. With a small bow, Cyril exited without re-locking the drawer.

It was official: Clavis was shook. He caught his bearings, hand on the door handle in a flash, but Cyran cleared his throat. “Prince Clavis, I was actually here to report on the latest training.”

Clavis grimaced at the door before plastering his smile back on for his knight’s sake. “Please then… report.”

Cyran began at an unbearably slow pace and, noting that this news wasn’t nearly as interesting as the letter that was rapidly escaping him, Clavis was nearly trembling as he restrained himself. Cyran unceremoniously finished reporting, face looking displeased but not surprised.

“Very good, Cyran, you are doing simply splendid work as always. I would hug you for your continued loyalty, but I am running late today.” Clavis waved one hand, the other ripping the door away.

Bursting into the hallway, Clavis glanced both ways. There was not a single Cyril in sight, and he groaned. Come to think of it… where did Chev even go?? He didn’t have anything on his schedule! Clavis had been too preoccupied to remember that babying Chev was a part of his job and he put that schedule together himself!

Not wasting a moment longer, he headed off in the direction with the highest likelihood of holding his brother. He checked every hiding place that he could think of, even conducting a brief scan of the gardens before doubling back to check the other way. As he turned the corner once more, he was stunned into a halt.

“You!” Clavis shot a finger at Chev, who was leaning nonchalantly against the office door.

“Don’t point, it’s rude.” Chevalier glowered as Clavis practically stomped over. Clavis glanced at the pile of paperwork in Chev’s hands, seemingly untouched from their earlier retrieval, including the prized letter on top.

Clavis swiped said letter, and was mildly surprised that he wasn’t met with any response from his frustratingly fast brother. Clavis defensively hopped back whilst whipping the note out from the envelope.

———

Dear Prince Clavis,

Now that you are reading this, I’m curious to know just how much time was spent getting to this point? When you told me you were “simply too busy” to remove god-knows how many traps from the garden yesterday, I was quite concerned that your time-management skills weren't as remarkable as I originally assumed.

However, knowing you, I am certain you managed to allocate plenty of time into retrieving this. I am both appreciative and impressed! In the future, I hope you can put this new found “free time” toward the requested removal of your patented Lelouchian traps and ensuring the safety of your brothers.

Warm regards,

The Garden’s Victims

——

As if to add insult to injury, the letter was marked with the official seals of the princes Yves, Licht, and even Luke.

Mouth agape, Clavis slowly turned his eyes to Chev. “Et tu, Brutal Beast?”

Chev’s smirk returned as he sauntered back into the office. “It seemed the simpleton needed me for a good cause.” The door closed behind him with a click.

Clavis was left by his lonesome, gobsmacked. He took a moment before a roar of giddy laughter erupted from him.

“Hahaha, this is love… love I tell you!” Clavis respected a good show of mischief, and this little lady read him like an open book.

Clavis beamed before taking a final lap down the hallway, this time in search of a lovely, victorious little rabbit.

Writing Masterlist

[khthonyk]

was convinced to expand this a little (tw:abuse, nsfw, assault)

Caro nervously stared up at the time table. The train had already been delayed fifteen minutes and he was beginning to worry. He only had an hour to get home before Tomas got off work. If he didn’t make it—

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside. It wouldn’t help to think about it now. Looking up again, he began debating if it would be quicker to just run (it wouldn’t, but he was beginning to grow desperate). Still, the time of arrival didn’t budge.

Chewing his lip, he fidgeted with a loose string on his coat. He continued trying to brainstorm ways home, but having only his keys and his metrocard with him, he was fucked.

Fuck. He really needed to scrounge up some money for a prepaid phone. At least if he had a second phone he could have a chance of figuring out another way home. He almost wished he had brought his phone. But Tomas tracked every step he took through the damned thing. He watched everything he did, everything he looked at. So Caro would slip away, take the train across the city to visit the library any time he needed to use a computer for something he didn’t want the Alpha to see. He was always so careful to be back before Tomas would come home from work. He didn’t know how he had lost track of the time so badly. That combined with the train being delayed had him mentally calculating how much time he had before he was really, truly, royally fucked.

Tomas had explicitly told him he was not to leave the apartment, but he had to slip away. He had created a second email, one the Alpha didn’t know about. He had been using it to keep in contact with Chrysanthos, since Tomas had begun keeping an eye on the communications between the two omegas.

Caro released a silent sigh of relief as the train finally, fucking finally, pulled up. He would be cutting it close, but if he ran the seventeen blocks to the apartment he would just be able to slip in before the Alpha.

The omega made sure to position himself right by the doors to ensure he was able to get off as quickly as possible. It felt like the ride took ages. But finally the train rolled to a stop at his station. He elbowed his way up the subway stairs, earning himself some dirty looks in the process, but it would be worth it.

Unfortunately, crowds were beginning to form along the sidewalks as people began to leave work and head home for the day. It slowed his progress as he had to dodge oncoming traffic, and running seventeen blocks had sounded much easier in his head than in practice, but the sleek grey building eventually came into sight.

Bypassing the lobby, Caro entered through the carpark, best not to be spotted by the doorman or front desk. 

He got lucky, the elevator rose past the lobby without stopping, taking him straight to his floor.

Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Caro pulled his keys from his pocket and let himself into the apartment. His relief immediately turned to horror as he found Tomas waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest.

The Alpha’s eyes were cold as he closed the distance between them. Roughly grabbing the brunet by the arm, he pulled him into the apartment, slamming the front door. 

“And just where the fuck have you been? I specifically told you not to leave the apartment, did I not?”

“Tomas, I– I just went out for some air.” Caro held up his hands, placating.

Tomas’ grip on his arm tightened and he pulled the boy in until they were face to face. “Do you think I’m stupid, Caro?” His voice was dangerously calm.

“Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

The man immediately produced the omega’s abandoned phone from his pocket. “I wonder why you would leave this behind. You’re practically glued to it whenever I see you.”

The brunet looked fearfully between the phone and the Alpha. “I–I just went around the block—”

Anger turned to outright fury. “I’ve been waiting for you for over two hours. Would you like to try that again?”

Caro opened and closed his mouth, there was nothing he could say. No lie or excuse he could weave would get him out of this. Dejectedly, he looked to the floor, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”

The man laughed bitterly. “I bet you are. Go wait in the bedroom while I decide how to best address this little ‘misstep’ of yours.”

He knew better than to argue. When the Alpha released his grip, he made a beeline for the bedroom, hoping Tomas would let him off easier if he obeyed.

Shutting the bedroom door, he removed his coat and shoes before sitting down on the bed. The waiting, in his opinion, was worse than whatever punishment the man could come up with. 

After an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching the room. Coming into the bedroom, Tomas shut the door firmly behind him. It seemed he had calmed a bit in the time away (to the omega’s relief).

Folding his arms behind his back, the Alpha watched him intently. “Tell me, Caro, why are we here?”

“Do you mean in general or—” A raised eyebrow was all it took for the brunet to clamp his mouth shut. 

“I’m only going to ask one more time. Why are we here?”

Caro fisted his hands in his lap, studying them as though a better answer was hiding somewhere in the skin. “Because I left the house when you told me not to.”

“And how many times have you done that, I wonder.” Closing the distance between them, he stopped within arm’s reach of the boy. Hooking a finger beneath the omega’s chin, he lifted until the brunet could meet his gaze. “How many times have you snuck out without my permission?” He sneered when the other didn’t answer. “Do not make me ask you again. How many times, Caro?”

“J–just this once, I promise.” The force of the blow that caught him across the cheek knocked him back on the bed. He didn’t put together what had happened until the heat bloomed across the right side of his face, he dazedly pushed himself back up, staring up at Tomas.

“I am only giving you one chance to comply, do you understand me, Caro? One chance. Make me hurt you and I promise you will not enjoy the consequences.” He pointed to the floor beside the bed. “Kneel. Hands behind your back.”

The omega's head still spun a bit as he clumsily dropped off the bed and onto his knees, folding his hands behind his back.

Tomas’ face minutely softened, and he reached out to fondly stroke the brunet’s hair. “Little Caro, such a naughty boy.” He clicked his tongue, sympathetically cooing as he ran his fingers down the boy’s bruising cheek. “Why do you make me hurt you? You know I hate having to mark up your pretty face.”

Caro struggled not to flinch as the Alpha fawned over him. He was still trying to anticipate what the man had in store, when he finally stepped away, crossing to the closet. Reaching up to the top shelf, Tomas pulled down a small box, before turning to him again. “I ordered this after the last time you tried to sneak out. Well, after the last time I knew you tried to sneak out.” He amended, placing the box on the bed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t need to use it. Hoping after being punished last time you would have learned better.” Opening the box he lifted a thin collar from inside. “You are mine; whether you like it or not, I will know where you are at all times. You wanna lie to me about your whereabouts, you go right on ahead. You can lie to me, but this cannot.”

Caro was on his feet the second he laid eyes on the collar, backing away, hands up to keep distance between them. “No, Tomas, please no!”

The Alpha didn’t let him step any further. Lunging forward, he grabbed the brunet by the wrist and threw him roughly to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. He didn’t have time to even attempt to stand back up, a knee pressing firmly into his back and keeping him pinned.

Seizing a fistful of dark hair, Tomas violently jerked the omega’s head back, hissing. “Why must you always insist on making things worse for yourself?” Locking the collar around the boy’s neck, he sat back, keeping the omega pinned beneath him. 

“We could’ve had a nice night. You could have enjoyed this, but you decided you wanted to fight.” Shifting his weight, the Alpha set a hand between his shoulders, holding him in place as he stripped the off the omega’s pants. “Never say I don’t give you what you ask for.”

“No, Tomas! Please! No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll be good for you! So good for you, please!” Caro futilely dug his fingers into the carpet as he pled, trying to escape the bruising grip on his hip as the Alpha ignored his cries and pressed himself in with a low groan.

Taking his time, he peeled the brunet’s hands away from the carpet, pinning them against the small of his back. Rolling his hips, he leaned over the boy’s back, his breath ghosting over his ear as he spoke. “I should’ve left you and your whore friend to rot in that cell longer like the jailbait you are. Maybe then you would’ve learned some manners. You should thank me for keeping you off the streets.” He hissed. “No one would ever want you. You’re too much trouble. Your Uncle should have done the world a favor and chained you to the bed. It’s all you’re good for. Just a broken, damaged toy that belongs with the trash.” 

Caro buried his face in the carpet, shoulders shaking as he quietly cried.

“Maybe I’ll call that little whore up next. Tell him you’re hurt. He’d come running so quick. Bet he’d make some pretty noises.”

“No!” The brunet shook his head, weakly trying to pull away.

“No?” Tomas hummed. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because—“

“Because?”

The omega’s voice shook when he spoke again. “You don’t want him.”

“Beg me not to call him.”

“Please—,” he sniffled. “Please, Tommy, don’t call him. I’m sorry— sorry I’m bad. But you don’t want him. You’re better than him— you deserve better than him.”

The Alpha laughed derisively. “And you think you’re better than him?”

“No. I’m— I’m bad. I don’t deserve you. Teach me to be better, please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you’re the only one who would ever put up with me.”

Releasing his grip on the omega’s hip, he thread his fingers in the boy’s hair, pushing his face down into the carpet as he chased his climax. “No one will ever want you.”

“I know.”

“I’m the only one who could ever love you. You’re filthy. Damaged.”

“Tomas, please—“

“Say it—“ he snapped. “Say it or I will show all your little whore friends how ugly and dirty you are.”

“I’m damaged.” Shutting his eyes tight, Caro weakly complied. “No one could ever love me. I don’t deserve you and your kindness. I’m dirty and bad.”

“Filthy whore.” Cumming inside him, the Alpha pulled out before his knot could tie them together. 

Standing, he composed himself before looking down to the boy beneath him disdainfully. “Go clean yourself up, you’re getting blood on the carpet.”

Caro slowly stood, afraid that the man was planning on hurting him further. Some of the tension ebbed from his shoulders when the Alpha turned his back on him to straighten the rumpled bedspread. He didn’t get more than a couple steps before the man’s voice caught his attention.

“Are you forgetting something?”

His heart stopped in his chest, but he looked back. 

Tomas’ expression had softened and he beckoned the omega over. Stepping into the Alpha’s arms, he let himself be pulled against the man’s chest. “You know I hate punishing you, darling. But I can’t let you get away with misbehaving.”

Caro anxiously twisted his fingers in the other’s shirt. “I know.” 

The man pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “I love you, little Caro. You know that, don’t you?”

Burying his face in his shoulder the brunet nodded, muttering, “I love you too.”

Tomas held him for a moment longer before stepping back. He exaggeratedly frowned, pressing his thumb just on the edge of too rough into the boy’s split lip. “Poor baby, go get cleaned up then come to bed, okay?”

“Okay.” 

The smile the man gave him hurt more than the punishment. He pushed it down, keeping his eyes on the ground, before turning and stepping away to disappear into the en suite, suddenly feeling much smaller than he was.

[valleyfthdolls]

@stone-97 yippee thank you

I'm separating these into two: non-theory based and theory based.

Non-theory based:

Cassie is short for Cassidy. I don't think she's Golden Freddy, obviously, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that Cassidy is her full name.

Her last name is Rita, which is Latvian and means dawn.

She's from a rich family, but she doesn't like her parents much, and feels like her whole life is just painfully boring because nothing ever happens to her unless she seeks it out.

She's absolutely fearless and always up to do something stupid and insanely risky. It's what draws her to Gregory, who always has things happening to him.

She considers herself Gregory's shield, the person to call on when he needs protection, and she takes that seriously.

She bought the walkie-talkies they share, and he laughed at her a bit for them because of course they were Roxanne Wolf themed.

She covers and decorates all her stuff with stickers, charms, beads, etc. Sometimes she puts stickers over her nails instead of painting them.

She was the girl whose birthday party was just before the events of Security Breach. She invited Gregory along, which was how he got into the building.

Theory based:

Her parents keep constant watch over her. It's hard for her to get away from them unless she can bypass all of their attempts to watch her.

Quite frankly, her parents don't know what to do with her. Things were fine until recently, and they've done all they can by watching over her and sending her to therapy, but nothing they do seems to be enough. Anything more they could do never works anyway- all attempts to install trackers on her devices lead to the trackers being corrupted, and no one can figure out how or why. It happens before even Cassie knows they're there.

Cassie is upset that people don't trust her anymore, but she wonders if she's even allowed to be so upset about it when it's her fault. Even if she's not "allowed," it hurts knowing that people used to trust and love her, and now no one even wants her to be alone out of fear she'll hurt someone.

She's afraid of what Gregory will think of her if he finds out what she's done. Knowing how much Gregory investigates, she's sure he'll find out eventually, but she wants to delay that as long as possible to stay his friend.

This also benefits Glitchtrap, who needs Cassie to stay close to him so they can get him where they want him.

[iamafanofcartoons]

i'll be real. you blazed a post onto my dash. i'm gonna block you. rules are rules. figured i'd help you out before i do.

you really want to know why the youtube algorithm is bad? positive feedback loops. not positive as in good, but positive as in they grow larger over time.

youtube's recommendation algorithm is partially based off of what it learns from users. it takes in all kinds of data on what users watch--the uploader, the title, the tags, the thumbnail, the description, anything it can glean from the audio and visuals, whatever. you name it, google's probably holding it. they dont have yottabytes upon yottabytes of data for nothing.

importantly, though, is that they also keep track of what the user watches Next. see, google (as with most social media that uses an ad revenue model) will run studies, where they try out different experimental algorithms created from viewership data on different users and see what is more likely to get users to click through. how they create these experiments is pretty complicated, and i'll save you the technogore. think of it as making tons of algorithms that each think different combinations of aforementioned viewership data at different amounts are the reason why that viewer made their choice, then projecting that onto all users to inform future suggestions. trust me, that's the easy way to think about it.

what makes it a positive feedback loop? well, recall that i said the algorithms are created on viewership data. the successful one(s) is/are then used to inform future recommendations. that data is then used to further experimentally tweak the algorithm. the choices user make influence the algorithm. what influences the choices users make? the algorithm. as time moves on, the algorithm becomes more and more biased until youtube decides to make more dramatic changes to influence things in a different direction (remember the change to favor runtime? then to favor watch-through?)

here's where i get all communist, and why i felt compelled to write all this. youtube isn't fixing shit about this system. why would they? people are clicking through recommendations at insane rates! they're watching more videos! and sure, a general societal right-wing bias might have positive feedback looped into turning the website into a facism pipeline, but google is making so much fucking money from gathering an insane amount of information from users that can be used in ad targeting the whole time. even if youtube itself struggles with profitability, even if people like. kind of say stuff about the problem but never really do anything about it at a large scale, even if people are being redpilled, why should google care when they make more money than anyone could even comprehend? until capitalism is overthrown, there will be a shit algorithm.

blocking channels is a start, but there will always be more shitty things to block (just like how there's always blazed posts for me to block the OPs of). apps that bypass youtube accounts and privacy loss (youtube vanced and newpipe) are privacy tools first, kind of hit or miss when it comes to the algorithm. never looked into the source code of them, but, if you ask me, it's either some amalgamation of everyone's recommendations who use those apps, a "default" algorithm, or one that's kind of tailored to you as youtube slowly worms its way into identifying you by your device and ip address.

point is, dont hold your breath waiting. keep looking for tools, keep spreading the word, keep finding ways to support content you like so the artist isnt reliant on ad revenue. dont keep throwing your money at tumblr, though, they really dont need it. they really never needed it. buy yourself a nice fuckin sandwich. everybody deserves a nice sandwich.

god, i'm going to look dumb if my ask gets deleted when i block you in five seconds. you have a good night.

Soo...yeah....this was based on this post

Basically I'm sick and tired of people like Manga_Kamen, Vexed Viewer, WatermelonCube, and other people raging about how they hate something that others like, and how people are supposed to hate what they hate.

I just wanted to give people the opportunity to remove those hate videos from their search results, so that they can at least find what they're looking for, using Youtube search.

[halfwayanywhere]

Hayduke Day 18: I wake up to around 3 in / 8 cm of fresh snow. The other good news? Despite the low overnight temperatures, the snowpack didn't manage to freeze enough to support my weight. The day begins the same way yesterday ended, postholing in the snow. Fortunately, my legs don't start furiously bleeding as they did yesterday since I've learned from my mistakes and now have my wind pants equipped. Unfortunately, I'm sinking deeper into the snow today than I did yesterday. I'm hiking this morning with @artemis_hikes and @involuted who make the situation worse as I watch them manage to stay on top of the snow for much longer periods than I do. Leah and I posthole behind them with nearly every step. It's not until after (dropping down to) Penellen Pass that the snow finally begins to lighten up. Bypassing the high route over the summit of Mount Ellen seems to have been the correct decision. This conclusion is reinforced when an unexpectedly violent thunderstorm suddenly erupts from seemingly nowhere. Despite having made it off the snowpack at higher elevations, the ground is once again coated in white. Eventually, the storm clears almost as suddenly as it began and I take a break for lunch before continuing down a jeep road to Tarantula Mesa. I drop down from the mesa and hike around it before taking the Below Tarantula Alternate and climbing back up up out of the canyon. At camp I discover that my stove appears to be broken which means I need to figure out how to eat my cooked food for this section. I try a quick cold soak of my mac and cheese and it proves awful. I bury it after a few tormented bites. Tomorrow I'll be entering Capitol Reef National Park. Maybe I can stop some cars and get some food? Day: Copper Ridge Road to above Poison Spring Canyon Distance: 24.88 mi / 40.03 km Elevation gain: 2,421 ft / 738 m #hayduketrail #utahbackpacking

[inksandpensblog]

We completely misinterpreted the hug scene

I was going to make this into a nice, well-composed essay, with each section talking about a different aspect of the episode's construction or execution, and about narrative theming and character arcs, and about why so many people thought this scene was enough to ruin the episode for them. I was going to do that, but then it took me eleven hours to try and narrow down what the actual problem with the scene was, when taken into context with the entire rest of the episode and episode 29; and then another three hours to realize what the actual intent of the scene had probably been and why nobody, including myself, seemed to have picked up on it (except for Lui and @k1ttyadventurer apparently-). So instead of the nice essay, you're getting a conceptual overview of my entire thought process, from beginning to end, as I tried to figure out the deeper reasons behind why everyone hated this scene so much, and then why we all had it wrong. You're welcome.

For the sake of internal consistency, I'm invoking author's bypass and using the names my server-mates and I have picked up for these characters. King shall henceforth be known as Mango, his child as Apricot, Purple's dadfigure as Cobalt, and Purple's momfigure as Orchid.

--

What started me on this path, was this thought: We didn't like Mango's reconciliation with Purple, but aside from pacing issues, Mango's arc (thematic, character, narrative, etc.) is pretty solid. So if the problem isn't with Mango's side, it must be with Purple's.

So, what was wrong about the way Purple's arc was written? Was it just that reconciliation scene in episode 30, or was it something from back in episode 29 that didn't show its full implications until now?

But, again, Purple's arc in episode 29 alone is pretty solid. So, the problem was just the reconciliation scene. And, again, for Mango's arc the scene works, it's only for Purple's that it doesn't.

So, what's wrong with it? Does this scene contradict episode 29 in some way? That's how a lot of us felt, at first, I think. Purple learned last episode that he didn't need acceptance from Cobalt, and he follows through on that in this episode, choosing to do what HE thinks is right and not what he thinks will earn him approval, and his reward is...symbolic acceptance from Cobalt? It didn't make sense, and sat wrongly with many of us.

--

But I still couldn't pin down why this didn't work, so I circled back. Maybe it was the relationship dynamics? Was that why many of us didn't like the idea of Mango being Apricot's father instead of their older brother, at first?

--

But then I noticed something amazing: if you watch the episode while viewing Apricot as Mango's sibling, and then watch it while viewing Apricot as Mango's child...nothing about Mango's arc actually changes, on a thematic level. It all still works, no matter which interpretation you go with.

Why, then, is the distinction given so much emphasis? Why is it important that we know that Apricot is canonically Mango's child, if it doesn't change anything about Mango's story either way?

Because what it DOES change, is the implied dynamic between Mango and Purple, and the number of inverse parallels in their stories.

--

I also think that at this juncture it's important to note that Mango seeing Apricot in Purple is something nobody seems to have had a problem with, even people who didn't like the episode. It's literally just Purple seeing Cobalt in Mango that people had issues with. Purple's side of the story, again, is the one that seems to be flawed in either its construction or its execution.

--

Now, while the status of who Apricot is, to Mango, doesn't influence Mango's story much, something about Apricot that does hold heavy sway over Mango's story is Mango seeing Apricot in Purple. And, since this seems to be paralleled by Purple seeing Cobalt in Mango,  we'd naturally expect this element to have an equally weighty effect on Purple's story. But what does Purple seeing Cobalt in Mango actually DO, for Purple's story?

--

@kikoqueenofrats and @luizastarry mentioned how after seeing Mango's backstory, seeing him be likened to Cobalt felt wrong. Specifically, that if Mango was meant to become a new parental figure for Purple, then having him become the new Cobalt, instead of, say, the new Orchid, felt really wrong, given how poorly Cobalt treated Purple (and, in my opinion, given how well Mango appears to have treated Apricot, whom he had recently likened to Purple earlier in the scene).

This is when Lui first brought up the idea that maybe the hug scene wasn't supposed to be a comparison after all, but was actually supposed to show how Mango and Cobalt were different. @iluvylalevu brought up pacing issues again, as a possible reason why the idea wasn't communicated clearly enough to the audience. Then they both discussed how some different body language from Purple in reaction to Cobalt's approach would've gotten this story point if it was indeed the intended point of the scene across to the audience a lot better; made the irreconcilable differences between Cobalt as Purple knew him and Mango as whoever he became over the course of this episode a lot clearer. 

I missed what Lui had already figured out, though, because my eyes caught on the body-language conversation, and it made me remember something: Cobalt, again and again, no matter what, forcing Purple to get up again when he fell.

--

So, I muted the video, and watched the hug scene again, and observed Purple's body language. He doesn't look like he's expecting he'll need to fight, but...in my opinion, it doesn't look like he's expecting a hug, either.

--

...maybe what he was seeing, during that moment in episode 30, hadn't been Cobalt turned around and returning to accept him, like he'd learned to stop yearning for in episode 29. (And really, would it be in-character for Purple to imagine his dad doing that? I think he knew his father better than that.) Maybe he’d seen Cobalt coming to admonish him, again. He had just defied Mango, after all, and then failed to stop him. And Green and the others weren’t here, to accept him regardless of his failure. And Orchid wasn’t here to catch him, all that was left were petals. And when it wasn’t Orchid standing over him to shelter him, it was always Cobalt, looming. But he knows it’ll be worse, if he stays on the ground. So he gets up.

And then the hug closes in, and Cobalt is gone, and it’s Mango.

--

The episode isn’t trying to compare Mango to Cobalt, like some questionable construction and execution choices for the scene led audiences the web over to believe. Instead, it’s contrasting them. Mango isn’t “the better Cobalt,” he isn’t “who Cobalt should’ve been.” He isn’t “the Cobalt Purple needs,” because episode 29 established that what Purple NEEDS is to get out from under the shadow of Cobalt’s expectations. Mango isn’t Cobalt. Mango is Mango. And Mango accepts Purple, not because of anything Purple did, and not even because he saw Apricot in Purple; the only time Mango saw Purple as Apricot was in the wall drawing, never when they were looking directly at each other, never the same way that Purple mistook Mango for Cobalt. Mango accepts Purple, because he’s Purple. Just like Green said his friends would.

Which is much less of a rancid vibe than what we’d all thought we were seeing, when all of us most of us first saw the episode.

--

I'd like to thank my server-mates for letting me figure this out, and for asking me to make sure it's shared.

[arc-misadventures]

Rebirth au: why is Jaune’s dad being an a**hole and not want to train him? And how does Jaune bypass this obstacle? Also curious whether Jeanne sticks to her promise and backs him up in order to change their parents’ mind. Even if not, I’d imagine he has enough knowledge to train himself or find someone who gives a damn about him and is willing to train him.

He gave the typical Dad excuse of: “Because I said so.”

Why are all of you so upset?!

United We Stand Together~!

Acheius: Hey, Jaune, want to play catch son?

Jaune: No.

Acheius: What? Why not, it will be fun!

Jaune: Bevause I said so; end of discussion.

Acheius: What?

~~~

Acheius: Hey, Jeanne since you want to go to, Beacon how about I start giving you some lessons?

Jeanne: Mmmm… No, no thank you.

Acheius: But, how are you going to become a, Huntress if you don’t train?

Jeanne: I have some ideas on how.

Acheius: But…

Jeanne: Sorry, Dad, I’ve got stuff to do.

Acheius: But, Jeje…

Jeanne: End of discussion.

Acheius: …

~~~

Acheius: Hey, Jaune, how goes the homework.

Jaune: It’s going okay.

Acheius: Do you want some help with it?

Jaune: Uhh… Yeah, yeah I would.

Acheius: Great! Then…

Jaune: Can you ask, Saphire to help me out? She’s really good with this stuff.

Acheius: Oh, I was wondering if I could help you instead…

Jaune: No thanks.

Acheius: But…!

Jaune: End of discussion, Dad.

Acheius: …

~~~

Acheius: Hey, Jeanne, want to watch a movie with me?

Jeanne: Mmm… No thanks.

Acheius: But, it’s your favourite, ‘The Princess Knight.’

Jeanne: I don’t want to watch a movie right now.

Acheius: But…

Jeanne: Dad, I don’t want to watch a movie: End of discussion.

Acheius: Why do you two keep saying that?

~~~

Jaune: Why did I even like this movie…?

Jeanne: The explosions, and cheesy one liners?

Jaune: I’d buy that…

Acheius: Hey, you two; I want you two to do the dishes, okay?

Jeanne: No.

Jaune: Don’t wanna.

Acheius: Hey, I’m not asking, I’m telling you to.

Jaune: Still don’t wanna.

Jeanne: End of discussion, Dad.

Acheius: Okay! What’s up with you two…?!

Juniper: Jaune, Jeanne; can you two do the dishes please?

Jeanne: Okay, Mom!

Jaune: This movie’s pretty lame anyway.

Acheius: Lame? And, why are you listening to your Mother, and not me?

Juniper: Because they like me more than you.

Acheius: Since when?!

Juniper: A couple of weeks ago.

Acheius: And, why do they like you more?

Juniper: Figure that out yourself.

Acheius: …

Acheius: Oh no…

Acheius: She’s angry with me too…

~~~

Jeanne: Oh crap?! Ooph!!

Jaune: Jeanne you’re over exerting yourself again.

Jeanne: I know, I know… Haa… I just…

Jaune: The muscle memory is too strong?

Jeanne: Yeah! That’s it, I’m not thinking, just reacting to your attacks. Haa… We’ve been at this for two years now and, I still haven’t ‘fixed’ this…

Jaune: Maybe that’s something you can’t fix; It’s like a well worn glove that you’re used to wearing, it’s just that you’re not big enough to wear it properly.

Jeanne: So I won’t be able to fight like I used too until puberty?!

Jaune: Yeah, pretty much.

Jeanne: NahhhHHH! I didn’t start puberty until I was thirteen! And, my boobs got really big when I hit sixteen! I better get my aura unlocked when I’m twelve because my back won’t be able to tale it!

Jaune: …

Jaune: Okay… Want to go back to training?

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Curse the future, and my gigantic boobs…

Jaune: Can you stop?!

Jeanne: Okay, okay… Ready?

Jaune: Ready.

Acheius: What are you two doing?!

Jaune: Training to become, Hunters.

Acheius: Both of you?

Jeanne: Does it not look like we’re training together…?

Acheius: But, how are you two training; There’s no one to teach you?

Jaune: Internet.

Acheius: The internet?

Jeanne: You can find a lot of things on the internet.

Acheius: Okay…? But, who said you could train?

Jeanne: Do we need a permission slip, or something?

Acheius: Your fine, Jeje. I’m asking you, Jaune. Who said you could train to be a Huntsman?

Jaune: No one did. And, before you give me some sort of remark of, ‘Because I said so.’ You said you wouldn’t train me. Not that I couldn’t get training.

Acheius: Grrr…! Stop training with your sister! You are not going to become a Huntsman, Jaune!

Jaune: Why?

Acheius: Because I said so!

Jaune: No.

Acheius: No?

Jaune: No, I won’t stop training just because you said so. You’re more than happy to train, Jeanne, but you refuse to train me; Why?

Acheius: I don’t want you to become a Huntsman that’s it…

Jaune: Because…?

Acheius: I just don’t think that you’re capable of becoming a, Huntsman that’s why.

Jaune: I’m not capable? Huw… Please give him your sword, Jeanne.

Jeanne: Damn, I was hoping I wouldn’t lose that bet.

Jaune: Catch.

Acheius: W-What?

Jaune: Pick it up.

Acheius: Why…?

Jaune: You don’t think I can become a, Huntsman. I think I can. So, pick up that sword, and prove me wrong…

Jeanne: Damn… Is this how you made a harem…? By being so intense it’s hot!!!

Jaune: Shut up, Jeanne.

Acheius: Why… Why are you doing this, Jaune! Why do you want to become a Huntsman?!

Jaune: …

Jaune: I want to be the hero; I want to save the day, save the girl from the creatures of the darkness. Be the knight in shining armour in the stories, Mom told us when she tucked us in at night. I want to be the hero, simple as that.

Acheius: What?! Do you have any idea that…?!

Jaune: That the story of happily ever after isn’t true? That the hero is betrayed by the people they chose to protect? That sometimes the hero loses? That the story of a hero is a lie? I know that dad. But, I don’t need to be the worlds hero, or something as spectacular as that; I just need to be one person’s hero. That’s enough for me.

Jeanne: Caring, courageous, and selfless too… Gods if you weren’t my brother…

Jaune: Shut. Up. Jeanne…

Jeanne: Right, sorry…

Acheius: No! I won’t it! I won’t allow you to become a, Huntsman!

Jaune: Then you better cripple me because no matter what you say nothing is going to stop me!

Acheius: If that’s what it takes, so be it…

Juniper: ENOUGH! Enough! Enough…

Jaune: Mom?

Acheius: Juniper?

Juniper: Acheuis… He’s an, Arc… Just telling him you won’t allow him to train, just because you said so, won’t stop him from training. Just because my dad said no, didn’t stop you from marrying me now did it.

Acheius: This is not the same! Becoming a, Huntsmen is…

Juniper: We are both, Hunter’s, Achi. We both come from a legacy of hunters, a legacy that our children wish to carry on. So if you don’t want, Jaune to become a, Huntsman. You have to tell him the true reason you don’t want him to train. You have to tell them about him.

Acheius: But…! They’re just kids!

Juniper: And, they deserve to know. They’re old enough to know, and understand why you don’t want, Jaune, just, Jaune not, Jeanne to become a Huntsman. Because if you don’t you’re going to push, Jaune away even further than you already have.

Acheius: …

Acheius: Haa… Jeanne, Jaune, get your siblings; We’ll talk more when we’re all in the living room…

Jeanne: Okay…

Acheius: Come on, Juniper… Let’s get ready…

Juniper: It will be better when we tell them, dear, it will.

Jeanne: …

Jaune: …

Jeanne: What the hell was that about?

Jaune: I don’t know, but whatever it was, wasn’t good… Come on, lets get the others; we have a history lesson to attend to.

Jeanne: Alright then…

[rocorambles]

Patient 1: Addiction

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Predator and Prey themes, Cum play, Knife play, Non-Con, Degradation

Link to: Prologue

Patient Name: Fushiguro Toji

Diagnosis: Adrenaline Addiction

Your brow furrows as you stare down at your first patient’s files. An addiction isn’t uncommon, but to adrenaline? You suppose it’s possible to become addicted to just about anything. Yet there are a million questions buzzing on the tip of your tongue as you turn to Uraume who just shrugs and says you’re better off hearing it straight from Toji’s own mouth.

Everything about this psychiatric facility is strange and you curiously stare at the elevator buttons as both of you descend, noting how each button has a name of a patient next to it with the final button having no label.

“Each patient has their own floor. They’ve been here for so long that we thought it would be more humane to give them ample room to live in instead of the standard patient rooms you typically see in other facilities. After all, we’re not here to treat them like caged animals, right?”

The humanitarian in you can’t defy that logic, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s safe for them to not be bound during your session, only to cringe at your own thoughts. They’re just ill patients, humans just like you, not prisoners. With that newfound determination you stride out of the elevator only to freeze when you hear the outer elevator cage slam close on your heels.

You turn, hoping to see Uraume right behind you, but your heart sinks when you see them safely on the other side of the metal fence, an eerie grin on their face as the actual elevator doors slide shut, leaving you with some parting words.

“I’ll see you when you’re done seeing all your patients today.”

Not even seconds pass before you’re scrambling to look for a button or anything to help pry open the elevator doors, fear overwhelming you as Uraume’s ominous farewell haunts you. But there’s no escape and you turn around to take in your surroundings, trembling and on the verge of tears.

Expansive is an understatement and you nervously walk around the dimly lit area, quickly losing track of all the rooms, corridors, and dead ends you bypass and amble through despite doing your best to keep track of everything. It almost feels like it’s meant to be a maze or obstacle course of sorts…

“Well, well, well. Look at the new little mouse I’ve found.”

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest only to still in shock when you see a familiar face grinning at you, immediately connecting it to the manilla folder tightly clenched in your hands.

“Fushiguro Toji?”

“And you must be the new shrink. Follow me, doc. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. They always do.”

You don’t want to think about what’s happened to your predecessors, this “they” Toji’s referring to. You don’t want to follow this stranger. You don’t want to be trapped in this unknown environment with a highly dangerous patient and no means of escape. But what choice do you have? And with limbs weighted with despair, you trail after the dark haired man.

You’re surprised when Toji leads you into a room not far off from the police interrogation rooms you’ve seen in movies. A single table with a chair on either side are the only furniture in the room and you quietly take a seat across from where Toji has casually slumped himself down. But you note how his large stature easily overwhelms the small space, making the substantial table between you seem meaningless.

There’s silence as you fidget and fumble with Toji’s file, trying to find any professionalism and composure you have left as said patient continues leering at you, an amused smirk ever present on his face. It feels silly to treat this like any other examination, but it seems like the only thing you can do, what Toji himself is expecting of you.

“What is...what is adrenaline addiction, in your own words?”

You wonder if this is what opening Pandora’s box felt like, the question barely out of your mouth before regret instantly seizes you as Toji’s grin only grows wider and sharper, a crazed look in his eyes when he replies.

“It means I like being excited a little too much, doc.”

“And what excites you?”

You don’t want to know his response, but it’s the only way forward and dread fills you as he responds.

“Oh, lots of things. The burn of my throat and rush to my head after taking a shot. Gambling and the uncertainty of whether you’ll win or lose. The look of despair on my victim’s face when I shove a knife through their beating heart. The way it feels so fucking perfect to shove my dick in any tight hole it’ll fit in. But you know what makes me the most excited, doc?”

It’s theatrical how he tapers off, green eyes piercing you as he silently orders you to acknowledge him. And all you can do is shake your head side to side, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you play right into his hands.

“What makes me the most excited is the thrill of hunting pretty prey like you.”

Instincts have you jumping out of your chair and bolting from the room. You don’t dare turn to see if Toji is chasing you down, his amused cackle at your expense trailing behind you. You’re blindly running, no sense of direction as you randomly turn left and right, your only prerogative to keep moving, hopefully farther and farther from your patient. Every corridor, every passage, every room looks the same and you struggle to breathe as quietly as you can despite the way your lungs ache.

You strain to listen, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the drumming of your racing heart and you don’t hear the figure casually ambling towards you until you’re being roughly shoved face first into the wall you’re leaning on, a toned figure pressed against your back, caging you in.

“Now, now. You’re making this way too easy. Tired already?”

It’s a rhetorical question, one you can’t bring yourself to answer anyway, not with the way your teeth chatter and your body trembles in fear as Toji loudly inhales your scent while he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, tongue lazily licking a strike of your salty sweat.

You sob as he harshly bites down, not enough to break skin, but enough to leave you aching and hold you still as his hands wander underneath your clothes, groping and kneading your breasts and ass. You’re too scared to move, fearing the consequences of resisting, praying that maybe this is it, that you’ll be let off when he gets his fill of feeling you up. But you can’t help the way you yelp and instinctively struggle against his hold when he tires of your frozen state and decides to ruthlessly twist your nipples and shove a thick finger into your tight hole.

“There we go. Glad to know you’re still alive and kicking. I don’t enjoy fucking dead and broken toys like that pink haired bastard does.”

Pink haired bastard? Your mind briefly flashes to a hazy picture you’re sure you had seen in one of the patient files. What was his name-

You shriek as Toji shoves another finger alongside the digit already in you, sobbing as you feel him stretching your walls, relentlessly pounding his fingers in and out of you, his fingers painfully pulling at your nipples. All you hear is his grunts in your ears and you clench your eyes in disgust when you feel a long hard object grinding against you, knowing full well what it is without even looking.

He’s going to rape and kill you. This is how it all ends. And you wait for it, the searing pain of that massive shaft impaling you. But it never comes and before you know it you’re moaning as he twists and flexes until he finds that soft spongy spot inside of you, insistently rubbing and stroking it with curled fingers as he continues dry humping you from behind.

You’re so lost in the sensations that you don’t notice how your body is betraying you as it unconsciously grinds back against Toji’s hand, your ass shaking and pressing even harder against Toji’s cock. It’s funny how easily you’ve lost any common sense, but you’re not here to be a vapid bimbo toy. He’ll save that side of you for one his fellow inhabitants who’ll appreciate it more and he abruptly pulls his now soaked digits out of you, snorting at how you whine from the loss.

You look so confused, so stupid as he rapidly finishes himself off, hooking down your bottoms low enough for him to shoot his sticky seed all over the inner fabric of your panties. And he grins when you practically moan as he pulls your undergarments back into place, cruelly tugging a tad too hard and wedging his cum and the stained lace deep between your abused folds.

You’re panting, looking like a wreck as you try to ground yourself from the dizzying confusion of being pulled right from the brink of an orgasm, the emptiness of your edging making your head foggy. But then something sharp is being pressed against your vulnerable neck and it’s enough to have fear jolt you back to your senses.

“Don’t be such a boring slut. Time to run and hide again. It’s playtime, bitch. Or maybe you need me to cut you up a bit. Pain’s always a good motivator.”

He’s barely finished speaking before you’re shoving him and his knife away from you and he whistles in appreciation as he watches you race away again, taking his time to tuck himself back in his pants. You’ll need as much of a head start anyway to even try and remotely make some sense of this labyrinth he knows every corner of. Not that any advantage will actually help you much. Toji’s never had a prey he couldn’t catch.

How many times has he found you and released you after defiling you just a bit more every time? Neither of you can keep track and only when Toji has shoved his cock in all three of your holes, filling every orifice with his cum and fuckig you until you can barely walk does your session end. It’s almost comical how he has to quite literally drag you back to the elevator you had come from and he cruelly laughs at the white sticky trail you’re leaving behind you with your loose holes unable to keep in the copious fluids.

You barely register what’s happening, too exhausted, too fucked out of your mind to even be bothered by the rough friction of the ground against your body, only mildly stunned by the fact that the elevator you had frantically tried to re-enter is now innocently open. And it’s with muted despair that you realize what fate has in store for you as Toji presses the button of the next lower level.

Gojo Satoru

The neatly labeled name is all you register before the elevator doors slide open and you’re shoved out of it, blearily making out the sight of Toji tauntingly waving at you from inside the metal enclosure.

“See you at tomorrow’s session, doc.”

Your world goes dark as the elevator doors shut.

[khthonyk]

Writing Prompt Day 12: “He had an hour to get home. If he didn’t make it…”

sorry guys, back on my bullshit. I had a bit more time in my break yesterday (I'm off at a work training, so my lunchbreak is an hour rather than the 30 minutes I get at work) so I was able to write a bit more. hope you enjoy

“He had an hour to get home. If he didn’t make it…”

Caro nervously stared up at the time table. The train had already been delayed fifteen minutes and he was beginning to worry. He only had an hour to get home before Tomas got off work. If he didn’t make it—

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside. It wouldn’t help to think about it now. Looking up again, he began debating if it would be quicker to just run (it wouldn’t, but he was beginning to grow desperate). Still, the time of arrival didn’t budge.

Chewing his lip, he fidgeted with a loose string on his coat. He continued trying to brainstorm ways home, but having only his keys and his metrocard with him, he was fucked.

Fuck. He really needed to scrounge up some money for a prepaid phone. At least if he had a second phone he could have a chance of figuring out another way home. He almost wished he had brought his phone. But Tomas tracked every step he took through the damned thing. He watched everything he did, everything he looked at. So Caro would slip away, take the train across the city to visit the library any time he needed to use a computer for something he didn’t want the Alpha to see. He was always so careful to be back before Tomas would come home from work. He didn’t know how he had lost track of the time so badly. That combined with the train being delayed had him mentally calculating how much time he had before he was really, truly, royally fucked.

Tomas had explicitly told him he was not to leave the apartment, but he had to slip away. He had created a second email, one the Alpha didn’t know about. He had been using it to keep in contact with Chrysanthos, since Tomas had begun keeping an eye on the communications between the two omegas.

Caro released a silent sigh of relief as the train finally, fucking finally, pulled up. He would be cutting it close, but if he ran the seventeen blocks to the apartment he would just be able to slip in before the Alpha.

The omega made sure to position himself right by the doors to ensure he was able to get off as quickly as possible. It felt like the ride took ages. But finally the train rolled to a stop at his station. He elbowed his way up the subway stairs, earning himself some dirty looks in the process, but it would be worth it.

Unfortunately, crowds were beginning to form along the sidewalks as people began to leave work and head home for the day. It slowed his progress as he had to dodge oncoming traffic, and running seventeen blocks had sounded much easier in his head than in practice, but the sleek grey building eventually came into sight.

Bypassing the lobby, Caro entered through the carpark, best not to be spotted by the doorman or front desk. 

He got lucky, the elevator rose past the lobby without stopping, taking him straight to his floor.

Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Caro pulled his keys from his pocket and let himself into the apartment. His relief immediately turned to horror as he found Tomas waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest.

The Alpha’s eyes were cold as he closed the distance between them. Roughly grabbing the brunet by the arm, he pulled him into the apartment, slamming the front door. 

“And just where the fuck have you been? I specifically told you not to leave the apartment, did I not?”

“Tomas, I– I just went out for some air.” Caro held up his hands, placating.

Tomas’ grip on his arm tightened and he pulled the boy in until they were face to face. “Do you think I’m stupid, Caro?” His voice was dangerously calm.

“Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

The man immediately produced the omega’s abandoned phone from his pocket. “I wonder why you would leave this behind. You’re practically glued to it whenever I see you.”

The brunet looked fearfully between the phone and the Alpha. “I–I just went around the block—”

Anger turned to outright fury. “I’ve been waiting for you for over two hours. Would you like to try that again?”

Caro opened and closed his mouth, there was nothing he could say. No lie or excuse he could weave would get him out of this. Dejectedly, he looked to the floor, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”

The man laughed bitterly. “I bet you are. Go wait in the bedroom while I decide how to best address this little ‘misstep’ of yours.”

He knew better than to argue. When the Alpha released his grip, he made a beeline for the bedroom, hoping Tomas would let him off easier if he obeyed.

Shutting the bedroom door, he removed his coat and shoes before sitting down on the bed. The waiting, in his opinion, was worse than whatever punishment the man could come up with. 

After an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching the room. Coming into the bedroom, Tomas shut the door firmly behind him. It seemed he had calmed a bit in the time away (to the omega’s relief).