#it would be nice if people could fucking communicate with us clearly about what's going on

[thethingything]

also shoutout to the hospital for sending us a bunch of PDFs with information about preparing for surgery and what to expect, except the information was all generic stuff where most of it does't actually apply to wisdom tooth removal, so I had a huge panic attack where I nearly threw up because a bunch of the stuff mentioned in there is extremely triggering for us, only to then find out that stuff literally doesn't apply anyway, but now I feel like I have even less of an idea of what to actually expect because it's so hard to figure out which information does apply

[doomedmoth]

Better kind of best friend (part 3)

Pairing : Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux x Charles Leclerc | Poly & bisexual fem!reader

Warnings : obsessive/possessive/manipulative behavior, suggestive content/smut, fluff then angst then dark fluff, inaccurate racing calendar and school programs, polyamory, use of y/n

Synopsis : When you left the UK for a year long art restoration program in Monaco, you mainly wanted to make some friends. What you didn't expect was to find your best friend on the first day. And then fall in love with her. And then get tangled in the web of Monaco high society as her boyfriend came back to town, unaware of your little affairs. What the fuck happened to you, you just wanted to make some friends...

Moth's prophecy 💡 : Your favorite omen of doom & cringe is baaaack ! I wanted to give a special thanks to all the precious cryptids who have asked for the part three for literal weeks, always staying patient, nice, and sending messages so sweet I rot my teeth on them and made a collection of screenshots in my notes to motivate me. I never thought anyone would like my writing, let alone wait for it, so thank you. Y’all are my lights. On the subject of Better kind of best friend, a fourth part was not planned at first, but will make the ending smoother, so I’m sorry, this is not the end yet ! For those just discovering the series, you can find part one here and part two here, or in in the masterlist ! Enjoy !

“Ah per favore… Tell me you’re not dressing up like that for her.”

“Ah please, tell me you’re not giving your opinion when no one asked for it.” Chiara popped her tongue at your cold answer, and stayed in the opening of your door, clearly judging you.

You had been going through your closet for about an hour now, and the floor seemed to only disappear more and more under the layers of clothes thrown onto it carelessly. Nothing seemed good enough, partly because you had no idea what to expect for the evening, and mostly because no matter how much you refused to admit it, Chiara was right. You wanted to look pretty for someone else than yourself. For two people exactly. The thought of how quick you had thrown away all of your big principles when faced with fluttering eyelashes and pink cheeks almost made you sick.

Yet when they both got up from the table, Alex running to your arms with a smile and Charles blushing, eyeing you up and down, you thought that Chiara should just shut up once in a while. This was too good to not enjoy.

And you had promised yourself this would not be the same this time. They were your friends, they were dating, and you would keep a healthy relationship with both of them. But then Alexandra softly kissed your cheeks, and took your hand in hers. You would limit any type of confusing physical touch, and make sure to not give in to sweet pet names. But then she led you to Charles, who put his hand, much bigger and more calloused than his girlfriend’s, on your waist, and brought you closer to greet you. You would not let your fantasies take over facts, and you would keep all communication clear and honest to ensure your best friend stayed exactly that. A best friend. But then he told you you were gorgeous, and she giggled while still holding your hand, and they had your favorite drink already on the table, and suddenly you forgot everything you had told yourself in the mirror while getting ready. Surely it would come back to you if it was that important. Right ?

Back to you it came, in the form of Alex’s gorgeous friend and one of your workshop colleague, Luca. Almost falling on you as you exited the bathroom, he seemed like he had had one too many drinks already, and didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

“Oh mais regarde toi, quelle beauté !” He grabbed at your waist and kissed your cheeks, blabbering on and on in French about your makeup and outfit. “Who are you trying to impress by looking so gorgeous, babe ?”

You chuckled and pretended he was wrong, but could not help and steal a glance. Of course you wanted to impress them, what a joke to pretend you did not care. Why for, even you had no idea, but you knew you would be satisfied as long as they kept their eyes on you. Which they had stopped doing for a while now, seeing as they were cuddled up on one of the couches, Alexandra sitting on Charles’ lap, hands in his hair, while he peppered her neck and shoulder with soft kisses. You could hear her giggles from afar, smell his shampoo, or maybe you just knew them too well for your own good.

You knew you were staring, knew Luca would be quick to catch on to what was happening if you did not get a hold of yourself, but it seemed that even the music and lights had faded in favor of the scene in front of you. It was hypnotizing, seeing her give in, seeing him take charge, knowing in your heart you should be there but never would be. Cheeks heating up, you turned back to Luca.

“I actually wouldn’t mind some company, if anyone here shares your opinion tonight.” Beaming, he hooked his arm with yours and took you straight to the bar to get a refill, which would inevitably end up spilled on the floor when he made you dance until you saw stars.

You don’t know how long you had danced for when he came to you. Hands sliding down your waist to your hips, his hot breath making the hairs on your neck dress up, you did not look up. You knew it wasn’t him. Because you knew how his hands felt from that one time he caught you from falling, because no man in their right mind would dance that way with their girlfriend’s friend in a crowded club, because it would never be your neck he buries his face in. But just for a few seconds, maybe minutes, you caught yourself hoping it was true, dreaming you would turn around and get a glimpse of green eyes before his lips crashed into yours. But the eyes were dark, the hair too blonde, the hands too soft. And yet you still let him kiss you, and when his slim fingers brought your dress higher on your buttcheeks, you even moaned in his mouth. Desperate was an understatement at this point.

“I’m going to put my fist so far up his ass he’ll be lucky if…” Alex’s sentence was cut short by Charles’ hand slamming against her face, flashing an apologetic smile to the friends they were chatting with and dragging her away. “Who even is that ? I’m going to get a bouncer to kick him out.” Charles had to tighten the grip on his arm to finally get her to look at him.

“Calm. Down.” This seemed to only piss her off more, but before she could start another rant, this time aimed at her boyfriend, he grabbed her by the neck and kissed her, giving him the advantage of surprise to then speak in her ear. “I know. But love, just look around you. At least half of this party knows us. I’m not sure punching a guy flirting with…” Unsure of how to call you to appease Alex, he opted for simplicity. “Y/N, and making a scene like a jealous wife is the best way to get her back.”

She sighed, head rubbing against the palm of his hand, before raising her doe eyes at him. “Then do it, Charles.” Getting closer to him, Alexandra brought her lips to his, her breath intoxicating like syrupy almonds. “Everyone knows you. Everyone loves you. Who would even dare to say something to Mr. Golden Boy.” Fluttering her eyelashes, she knew exactly how to get him. Sweet as honey, sharp as glass. “Why don’t you be a good boy and go fetch her for me, hm Charlie ?” He only managed to nod pathetically, his whole body aching to get on his knees and have her sit on his face.

The tension in his muscles was still present by the time he got to the bar stool where you were sitting, and he thought he might actually end up smashing the guy’s face against the counter. You were laughing like he had never heard before, the kind of sultry giggles that belonged to cab rides and hotel hallways, only an invitation for the hand already sat on your thigh to go up further. He barely had time to think of consequences, and you to realize he was standing behind you, before his hand fell to the guy’s shoulder, and he started speaking in his ear. The music was too loud, you were getting really drunk, so when the man’s eyes got wide, and he apologized before leaving in a hurry, you were unable to guess what Charles could have told him.

“I’m sorry, doll…” It wasn’t the first time he called you that, yet everytime it left your heart pulsing, and your core aching for more. You felt your legs wobble as he slid between them. “Seems he wasn’t interested in much more than a quick fling.” His fingers ran up your thigh and you almost fell the dig of a nail, before he took the hem of your dress and brought it back down to its usual length. The exhale that came out of your mouth felt like the first one in hours. “And you’re worth more than quick, aren’t you ?” At this moment, no, you weren’t worth more than that, you were yearning for someone to take your mind off the shitshow that was your heart, even if it meant bending over a bathroom sink for any nameless guy. But you smiled through the shivers and thanked him, even daring to put your hand on his. Everything was spinning, your ears were ringing, but he was smiling back at you, so maybe this evening wasn’t so bad. “Party’s over, let’s go home, doll.”

On the way back, Alex sat in the front of the car, but kept her hand on your knee the whole way, tracing small circles on your exposed skin. It almost seemed to you that with every sharp breath you took, you saw her smile in the car’s mirrors, but you fell asleep without being sure.

Even Charles was annoyed now. Maybe he could buy you a leash, make sure you were never straying too far. A tag too, so that you wouldn’t get lost. One with his name etched into the metal, just so there’d be no doubt. Just so that everyone knew who you belonged to. Would you be good ? Obedient ? He barely managed to get back to reality before his face got as red as his suit. Knee bouncing restlessly, his eyes were unable to leave you, bent over his car as a mechanic showed you his seat. If he could see you, it meant everyone could. And that was starting to get on his nerves.

“Sorry I found a pretty one” Alex whispered, sliding up behind him, her voice a low hum of amusement against his ear. “Sometimes I wish I could lock her up too…”

“I mean you could.” Charles knew he was fucking up. The words had tumbled out before he could stop himself, the implication behind heavy with something he would not dare to name. He knew his girlfriend had been teetering on the edge lately, and that any idea fueling her possessiveness would be considered, no matter how immoral. He knew he was supposed to be the voice of reason. Your soft way back to her, to them. Like the web to the spider. But this new mechanic he was definitely going to get fired was now making you try a headset, and he was playing with your hair, and the image of you getting yanked back to his feet was taking too much place in his brain. So when Alexandra stared at him, he simply shrugged, surrendering. “I don’t want her to stray too far when I’m on track. Who knows what could happen to her.”

When the free practice started, and Alexandra sent you to get her painkillers from the “infirmary”, you didn’t know what you were getting into. As the door locked behind you in the small storage room, you became painfully aware that you had no idea how this world worked. You had followed her instructions blindly, not really knowing anyone, and not wanting to cause trouble. And now you were banging on the door, feeling the air slowly get out of your lungs as the panic took over your body. There wasn’t any light in the room, and you could faintly hear the rumbles of the cars in the distance. Everyone was probably busy either watching or working on the track. No one would hear you scream, yet you begged for help with every bit of energy left in you.

Claustrophobia had been the fear you never got over. Taking stairs rather than elevators and walking over crowded buses, you had mostly managed on your own. But there you were, stuck in what seemed smaller than your bathroom at the residency, wondering if you were about to suffocate to death between tyre blankets and wires in Abu Dhabi. Charles had told you the practices lasted about an hour. But would you ? And even if your lungs hadn’t burnt from the thick air then, would someone find you right away ? Who could even come to look for you, in such a foreign place, with no friends other than two of the busiest people there could be this weekend ? Tears streaming down your face, you found yourself wishing you had never left their side. Maybe that would have been childish, but you would have been safe.

“Y/N ? Y/N are you in there ?” Anywhere in the world you would have recognized this voice. The only one that would understand your pain because she knew your fears. You screamed her name and heard rustling in the hallway. For a second when the door opened, she stood bathed in the clinical white lights, and you thought you had died. No angel would ever come close to such a vision. “Y/N ! Mon chou come here oh my god” She fell to her knees, opening her arms, and it felt like coming home. To hell with the physical distance, to hell with the principles. She had found you. She had saved you. Your head in her neck and her hands in your hair, you tightened your arms against her even when she gasped, but pulled you even closer. The tears falling down on your cheeks weren’t yours only, and you could barely make out what she was saying.

When the buzzing in your ears finally calmed down, she had cupped your face, whispering inches away from it. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you you’re safe. Please don’t leave me anymore. Please please please Y/N I beg you I got so scared, you weren’t coming back and I thought something had happened to you, it’s not safe here.” Rubbing your cheek with her thumb, she even kissed repeatedly your forehead as you could only nod, still crying. “Stay by my side, please never do that again. I thought I had lost you, I thought…”

You said yes, over and over again, apologizing as if it had been your fault, promising to be good like a prayer to a benevolent deity.

When Charles got out of the car and saw you holding Alex’s hand, your whole body twitching while she was beaming, he could not help but smirk. On a counter next to his phone, the keys to one of the storage rooms sat innocently, gleaming under the lights.

The weeks following the incident felt like a blur, as if your mind was slowly sinking into the mist of December mornings, and the last of your independence with it. Wherever you turned, Alexandra’s warmth and Charles’s steady hands were there, lingering at the edge of your vision, too close to be a coincidence.

But it was too comforting to not bathe in it. Your mind kept on replaying the moment your friend had found you in the storage room so many times it became a mantra, a balm to soothe the fear that still clawed at your thoughts at night. She found you. She saved you. She would never leave you. Charles too, after making a scene at the race and demanding the lack of safety in the infrastructure to be investigated, had made a point of shielding you from anything he deemed not safe. Which now that you were back in Monaco, seemed to be everything and everyone. You caught him glaring more than once at strangers, his body always carefully sliding between you and anyone who got too close.

Yet you had also been witness to the ugly side of fame since, the shadows it casted and the vultures it attracted, and trusted them to keep you away from it. All celebrities seemed to like their private life to stay, well… Private, and so when he brushed a stray hair from your face and told you he wouldn’t let any creep bother his dear friend, you believed him.

And truth be told, you loved the attention. That’s what you wished for, all you ever wanted, you told yourself as Alex braided your hair on the couch of the residency, Charles scrolling on his phone, his knee brushing absent-mindedly against yours. It was sweet, how they cared so much. Your roommates had given up on understanding, as long as the mood was not as icy as it had been the past month, they were fine with pretending nothing had ever happened. Life itself seemed to be so much easier with just them anyway. Why bother looking elsewhere, for what even ?

“I thought you were really cute, and I just wanted to give you my number, if you ever wanna go on a date.” The French accent snapped you out of your thoughts, and you nodded, blushing, as the barista winked at you. Your gaze immediately darted to the side, as if they’d be standing there, watching. But you had come alone, like stepping outside without a coat, not sure how you were now feeling about the decision. No matter what, it seemed their presence clung to you like a second skin.

They weren’t stopping you from dating, or making friends out of the internship. But it had been a while since you had thought about anyone else in that manner, and stepping out of the comfortable bubble you had built around the three of you now seemed like such an effort, on top of being scary. A voice in your head, your voice probably, even though it sounded too much like Alexandra’s, always ended up whispering : What else do you need that you don’t already have ?

The barista’s number scribbled on a napkin stayed untouched in your bag. Charles’ eyes had lingered too long on your phone screen one night, and when you mentioned in passing the way the uber driver had complimented your makeup, Alex had tilted her head just slightly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, her tongue brushing faintly against her canine. But they laughed it off, and you laughed with them, sinking into a soft net that felt more silk than cloud.

Had you been more careful, maybe you would have seen the signs. The way stuff in your bedroom seemed to change places, or even disappear. The deleted messages sent from your own phone, asking to be left alone, confirming you weren’t interested. The delicate touch of a hand on your arm, the oh-so-French kiss on the cheeks you always seemed to receive whenever a flirtatious wink was sent your way. But you had missed her, and you liked him so much, and for nothing in the world you would go back to a world where those weren’t your best friends. No matter how hard it was to fall asleep picturing them running their hands further than morality authorized.

As you lingered by Marco’s door, his bed still a wreck even though he had left a week ago, you couldn’t help but sigh. The house was so quiet, barely troubled by the faint swirl of wind in the garden. You thought you would like it this way. Even though it had been fun, living with seven other art students had been… Messy. Now everyone had gone home, and there was no need for fighting over the thermostat or Sunday mornings rush to get groceries anymore. Only the handmade decorations were left behind, like ghosts of their absence.

You couldn’t explain to yourself why you had resisted going home. On the phone with your mother, you had brushed it off with excuses about the time-consuming art pieces, the flights, and how it would be easier to stay. But when the clock struck midnight on the 22, and the thought of waking up alone for the next few days clawed at your chest, you booked the next available flight. You’d surprise your family. Sitting at the table and laughing at their jokes and going for a walk after lunch. You’d come home.

The morning of the 24th greeted you with hope, and then a storm. Nice’s airport’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on the crowd’s disappointed faces as flight after flight turned red on the departure boards. You tried to stay calm, fiddling with a trinket tied to your bag, but when the announcement came that no flights would leave until the storm cleared, something inside you cracked. You were stuck. Not home. Not Monaco.

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over Alexandra’s contact. You hadn’t told them you were leaving, hadn’t wanted to explain why the urge to run away, and why you were now desperately crawling back. The empty airport felt like punishment, and your fingers moved before you could second-guess yourself. Faced with her warm voice, the words tumbled out on their own. The storm. The canceled flights. The panic of the crowd slowly but surely spreading to you.

“You stay there, we’re coming to get you”. You barely had time to protest before the call ended.

When their car pulled up outside the terminal, the storm still raged, rain lashing against the windshield as Charles parked. Alex hopped out, an umbrella barely covering her as she ran to you, her sparkly short dress illuminating the pavement. “Oh, mon chou, you must be freezing,” she cooed, wrapping her coat around your shoulders and guiding you to the car.

Charles was waiting, heater blasting, his smile soft as he looked back at you from the driver’s seat. “You should’ve told us you were leaving,” he said, a hint of reproach softened by his tone.

You shrugged, sinking into the warmth of the car. “It was a last-minute thing.”

Alexandra clicked her tongue, clearly disapproving, as she slid in beside you. “At least you have your bag ready.” You barely had time to register what was happening as you saw Charles type in an address that was definitely not the residency. Before you could ask, his eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You’re not spending Christmas alone, doll. I called my mom on the way, so I hope you like oysters.” He broke eye contact as you opened your mouth to protest, his voice much lower, daring you to defy him. “Don’t argue with me, it’s already settled.”

Their idea of Christmas was something out of a dream. Charles’ family home in Monaco was decked out in soft lights and greenery, the smell of mulled wine and myriads of meals filling every corner. His family welcomed you with open arms, and Alexandra’s parents, who had joined as well, treated you with the delicate attention of pretending like your presence had always been planned.

The day went on as if you were stuck in the flow of a warm river, feeling the deep call you but unable to move a muscle to swim against it. You hadn’t been allowed to lift a finger, Charles steering you away from the kitchen when you offered to help, pressing a glass of wine in your hand instead. “Absolutely not. You’re a guest, Y/N. Relax.”

Everytime someone asked how you were enjoying the day, one of them was always quick to describe how “special” it was to have you here, and how glad they were to finally be able to introduce you. Their attention was always on you, always ready for any request you might have. What had become a natural habit, developing over the last few weeks, was now exacerbated under the glimmering lights, and the Christmas tree seemed to wink at you, knowingly, as if it was in on whatever elaborate spectacle Charles and Alexandra had orchestrated. Their care was overbearing but left no room for complaint. By the time dessert was served, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. An intricate figurine in a glass case, too precious to touch but constantly on display. Anytime Charles called for his doll, you got dizzier.

When everyone gathered around the fireplace to open their gifts, the cook gave you a knowing look and gestured at another glass of wine left on the kitchen counter, before swiftly exiting the room. You gladly took it and observed from afar the parade of extravagance. Designer clothes, limited-edition art pieces, concerts tickets in another country. If you thought your own Christmases back home were lavish, it was no comparison to the Leclerc’s.

“Here, mon chou.” Alexandra purred, pressing a carefully wrapped small box in your hand. “We planned on giving it to you next week but now’s even better.”

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone turned to you. This was not planned. You did not have time to get either of them anything, even less their families. It all felt like a show you had never agreed on being a part of. “You really didn’t have to-”

“Open it.” Charles interrupted, his grin infuriating, dimples bigger than ever. He lounged back on the sofa, one ankle resting casually on his knee, his gaze fixed on you. With a brush of his hands, he pretended to swish away your worries. “We’ll go and change it if you don’t like it”.

The box revealed a delicate bracelet, platinum with tiny diamonds winking along its length. Sucking in a breath, you felt their eyes on you, expectant, hungry for your reaction. “It’s pretty, no ?” Alexandra’s voice was eager, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bracelet to clasp it around your wrist. It was too much. The alcohol made your head pound and you felt like throwing up. Raising your eyes, the guilt hit you like a wave. They had done so much for you, gone out of their way to include you, and you couldn’t even summon the gratitude they deserved ? The metal was biting into your skin as if in reprimand, your whole body feeling like fire since you had finished your glass. Taking a deep breath, you excused yourself to “freshen up”.

The low hum of voices faded as you found a quiet room in the labyrinth that was the house. This is what you’d always wanted, wasn’t it ? To be cared for, adored, treated like the most important person in the room ? Then why did it feel too much ? Why did it feel like drowning ? You thought back to October, and quickly recognized the signs of your love barging through the door, demanding the best place at the table. You couldn’t let either of them know you were back on your stupid feelings, or they would leave you again. And then ? You had seen the pain, for everyone involved. Good friends. Best friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. You exhaled, praying for your thoughts to shut up, concentrating on the wind outside.

It was Charles that came for you, sitting carefully next to you on the bed, as though you might shatter if he moved an inch wrong. Turning away from the frosted window, you murmured. “Just needed a breather.”

“I’m sorry.” Before you even had time to ask what for, he sighed, gesturing vaguely towards the door. “For all of this. We just wanted to make you feel welcome but… It’s obviously not working.” Running a hand through his hair, betraying his frustration, his other one went tentatively to yours, and your fingers laced together. “I can see you’re not enjoying this, and I know it will never be the same as being with your family.”

“Charles, I don’t-”

“I can arrange a plane.” He was rambling on, a habit they seemed to share, and in the soft light of the moon, you could swear his eyes were red. “First thing in the morning, have you be home before lunch. We love having you here, doll, but… I think it might have been selfish of us.” There. You had made him sad. He had made you feel like family and you had fled like a spoiled child. If anyone was selfish here, it was you.

“No !” You blurted, the word too loud, startling even yourself. Moving towards him on instinct, you threw yourself in his arms, hands gripping to his back, fingers curling against the smooth fabric of his sweater. He tilted his head, questioning, but you only buried your face against his chest. “I… I don’t want to leave. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed ungrateful. I didn’t mean to. It’s not too much, you’re not too much. You could never be. I’ll try harder, I’ll appreciate it more, I’m sorry I-” It seemed the habit had also infected you, and your monologue was stopped by Charles’ thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“Shhh” The hand that was in your back went up to your head, softly rubbing your hair, as you lost yourself in his eyes. Were those freckles or just beauty spots ? Had those always been here ? You felt tempted to touch them but froze up when your lips opened up on instinct. Seriously, how many drinks did you have ? “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to feel welcomed and… Appreciated.” The moment stretched, world narrowing to the warmth of his arms and the pulse of your heart as he opened your mouth even more and slid his thumb past your lips, your teeth, and to rest against your tongue. “And loved.” His gaze was fixated on your lips, and for a brief moment, until footsteps were heard in the hallway, you thought he was going to kiss you, or maybe slap you. You wouldn’t have protested either.

His lips went to brush softly against your forehead, and it took every last ounce of self-control in you to not bite down on his thumb as he took it out of your mouth. His fingers traced down your cheek, your jaw, down to your neck, where he softly closed his fingers around your throat as the moan that had been stuck in there was finally let free. You wanted this moment to last forever, almost wished he would choke you out so you would never have to go back to reality. But something snapped suddenly in his eyes, and he ruffled at your hair before standing up with a confidence that made you question if the moment had truly happened, or if the cook had spiked your drink. In the white light of the night, his finger shined briefly with saliva, and you followed him back to the living room like a dog who had gotten the sweetest treat.

The floor length mirror stared back at you, unkind in its honesty. You leaned in as Alexandra gently titled your chin up with her fingertips, her voice humming as she added the finishing touches to your makeup. The sharpness of your features seemed amplified under their bedroom golden light, and your reflection felt foreign. Maybe it was the week, and its endless swirl of champagne, parties, and faces you couldn’t remember. Or maybe it was the memory of Christmas Eve, and its almost-kiss which kept replaying in your mind like a broken record you didn’t have the strength to discard.

Charles hadn’t mentioned it. Not a word. The morning after, his smile came on as easy as ever, his voice smooth and jokes easy, as if nothing had happened. Alex had thrown herself onto him, bathing him in affection, as though your world hadn’t turned upside down in that hidden room. Even now, as his hands brushed against your shoulders, slipping the straps of your too-short dress into place, you were wondering if you hadn’t dreamed it all.

“Stop squirming” He teased, smoothing out the fabric and pulling up the zipper.

Alexandra laughed and stepped back to inspect her work, two fingers still holding your chin. “She’s not squirming, she’s just nervous.”

“Il y a pas de quoi être stressé, c’est le Nouvel An, pas une gardav’ non plus…” Not understanding the slang, you copied your friend’s reaction, and as she clicked her tongue, you rolled your eyes.

You felt like an imposter. How could you have let it get this far ? You were supposed to go back to being friends, that was the deal. Not over complicating things, not pushing boundaries of what they were giving you. But then every time one of their friends got curious about you, Alexandra would say you were “Just someone special”, her casual voice contrasting with her nails scratching on your thigh. Her eyes would flicker, the kind that warned you not to correct her, and you let yourself get locked up in this almost-relationship that you had so desperately tried to escape a few weeks before.

Reaching for the curling iron, she murmured, more observation than question. “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Just tired, I guess… We’ve gone out a lot this week.” You forced a laugh, aiming for nonchalance, but Charles simply raised a brow, not impressed.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can just stay there, order some food, …”

You cut him off by twirling on yourself, the dress flaring so high it couldn’t have been conceived to cover anything. Alexandra groaned and caught you by the shoulders to steady you, apparently not satisfied with your curls. “When I look like that ? It would be such a waste !” The green-eyed boy chuckled and nodded in agreement. Dressed to perfection, your hair soft and shining, you looked exactly like what they wanted you to be : a doll. And truth be told, you enjoyed it. When he kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and they both looked at you with something that could be pride, you knew you owed it to them to have fun, at least tonight, at least the following months. At least until England called you back and you answered, leaving your summer love to rest on the green hills. You owed it to them to pretend you weren’t haunted by the ghost of “almost”, and maybe you could even pretend long enough to end up believing it yourself.

“Close it, you’re going to swallow a fly.” Charles pushed softly on your chin to close your mouth you had left wide in awe, before rubbing the nape of his neck. “Much funnier in French…” He mumbled before leaving his keys to a valet, and opening the way for you and Alexandra. The mansion was huge, its garden spilling to the edge of the woods behind it, and the music pulsing through the air carried promises of a night you might not remember in the morning.

It seemed everyone who knew a Formula 1 driver, directly or indirectly, had been invited. Some faces you recognized, but most not, and the shower of compliments you found yourself in as soon as you stepped foot in the main living room quickly felt suffocating. The polite flirting made you feel uneasy, their admiration like scrutiny, and before you even had time to cling to your anchors, they drifted away. “I’ll be right back, chou.” Charles’ hand brushed briefly against yours before he followed his girlfriend to go greet some friends, and you stayed right where they left you.

No matter how much you repeated your internal calming mantra, the vulnerability was creeping in. There were too many people you didn't know, and so you made it a mission to not lose again the only two that mattered. When they asked if you were having fun, you nodded, the lie automatic. For the following hours, it turned to truth, as you stuck close to them like a guard dog unwilling to stray too far from its leash. If Charles moved to refill a drink, you downed yours too quickly to follow. If Alexandra drifted to another conversation, your hand clung to her elbow, begging to tag along. You weren’t proud of it, but the dread clawed at your chest every time you stood alone for more than a heartbeat. You were enjoying yourself as long as you weren’t left to your own devices. Long gone was the resolution of making new friends, it seemed.

The air in the house had been filled with tension as midnight approached, and you felt like you had suddenly woken up. A glass of something golden in your hand, its fizz long forgotten, you were nodding along to Pierre’s story about an incident on a recent trip, while his girlfriend Kika hung onto his arm, punctuating his tale with playful jabs. You tried to listen, you really did, but something was missing, and you couldn’t help but give in to the voices bothering your every thought as he wrapped up his story.

“Have you seen Charles ? Or Alex…?”

Kika’s lips curled, mischief in her eyes, and she exchanged a look with Pierre who chuckled. “They’ve probably gone to enjoy the view, as usual.”

“Top floor,” Kika added, still giggling as she sipped her cocktail. “There’s a balcony up there that’s quite… Private.”

Mumbling a quick excuse, you set your glass down and slipped away, through the maze of guests and corridors of the sprawling mansion. The thud in your ears was soon more heartbeat than music, the knot in your stomach tightening between unease and anticipation. When you reached the top floor, the door to the bedroom was ajar, dim light coming from within and spilling onto the hallway. You closed it behind you, breath stuck in your throat.

There they were. Alexandra’s back was pressed against the railing, her sequined dress shimmering in the moonlight as Charles leaned into her. His hands rested on either side of her waist, fingers curling possessively over the iron, as he brought one knee up between her legs, silencing her laugh. He was working down her throat when she opened her mouth, eyes fixed on you, but did not stop kissing and biting, seemingly not caring.

“Oh darling, caught us” She purred, her voice thick with amusement. Her manicured finger pointed at you before curling, inviting you to come closer. You should not. You should flee. This was not your moment, it would never be. Also, you should keep a closer eye on your drinks because someone was definitely having fun drugging you lately, no way any of this was true. But your feet moved before your brain was done having a panic attack, and you found yourself gently pushed in the woman’s arms by Charles.

She probably saw your eyes jumping from one to the other, thoughts racing behind them at light speed, and with each hand on your cheeks, centered you back to her face. This felt like deja-vu, your lips so close, your perfume swirling together, like the wish you had screamed to the moon that night was finally becoming true, only a few months too late.

“I’m sorry.” Oh no. Oh not again. You were about to jump out of her embrace when you felt his body behind yours, closing back on both of you as his hands caught on the guardrail once more. “Stay. Please.” Not like you had much of a choice anyway. Charles was looking down at the garden over her shoulder, badly pretending as if he wasn’t inches away from the most private conversation happening tonight. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what was going on between us. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process. You deserve the world, not any of the mess I put you through. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.” She was already forgiven, how could she not when her apologies were whispered between your lips. “But I know where I stand now. And if you allow me, I’ll never give you less than the world. Because that’s what you deserve. Because you love me and I love you.”

“Ten !” Charles took a step to the side as the screams from downstairs echoed through the whole house. He leaned on the balcony, and you almost fell to the floor from the shaking in your legs. “Nine !” She caught you by the waist and pulled you back to her with a laugh, one so hesitant it could only be filled with honesty.

“Eight !” You were dreaming. You wanted to punch yourself to wake up, but without even knowing how, your hands had gone up to her arms, shoulders, neck, cheek. “Seven !” You had promised yourself, you had promised her, and Chiara, and the world itself, that you would be fine being just friends. “Six !” Why was she the one ruining all of your efforts ? Why was she still the one you would wait for, when everyone else was long gone ?

“Five !” Was Charles just going to stand there, and pretend like his girlfriend didn’t confess to someone else ? “Four !” Maybe they had talked ? Maybe they had been open this whole time and you hadn’t seen the signs ? Would he kiss you too ? “Three !”

You cupped her cheeks and it felt like the world exploded when your lips met. Or maybe it was just the fireworks. Maybe it was the culmination of months of pining, love and pain, that was giving her kiss a taste of blood, a taste of more. She switched your places, pinning you against the barrier and deepened the kiss as your hands tugged at her hair, undoing the curls she had so carefully crafted. Everyone was screaming for the New Year, but you felt like they were doing it for you. Is that how it felt, to love and be loved ? Like you would rather run out of oxygen than end the moment. Like teeths and tongues, being fourteen and messy all over again. Like a movie-worthy compilation of every smile she had flashed you for the last four months was playing behind your closed eyes.

When you opened them, her mouth now running wild on your jaw, it’s a green spark of amusement that was looking back at you, a slow whistle coming out of his dry lips. Shit. You had kissed his girlfriend. Or his girlfriend had kissed you. And he wasn’t moving to join in. Were you about to be thrown from the highest balcony in some sick kind of real-life Cluedo ? But he simply brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and the small caress he gave to Alexandra’s back made her moan against your collarbones. “Les clés sont sur la porte mon amour.” She mumbled what you understood to be thank you, not sure why for, as he moved towards the door.

“Wait Charlie I’m…” It was difficult to talk with Alex, determined to kiss every inch of visible skin on your body, and there was a lot. “I’m sorry I… What’s happening ?” You could only hope they had not broken up, not because of you, yet you saw no world in which this situation would be acceptable for him. With his usual playful grin you had grown so fond of, he winked at you before exiting the room swiftly.

“There’s a time for actions, and a time for explanations. Happy New Year, doll.”

With every step that she took you followed, painfully aware of how much she knew you, much better than you would have thought. Kissing in all the right places, her grin was getting wider every time you winced under the dig of her sharp nails, and she hushed you as if the drunken screams downstairs weren’t covering your moans. But you were determined to be good, as you had been from day one, and so you bit the pillow and pulled at her hair, let her know it hurts and let her keep going, because you loved her and she loved you. And she would never leave you.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Taglist : @sam-is-lost // @mangotaitai // @ilovechickenwings // @eroselless // @zreads111 // @crimson-spine // @inejismywife // @champomiel // @eternoange1 // @charizznorizz // @exactlycoralfox // @waitwhendidwegethere // @cluelessred3 // @spookystitchery // @erikasurfer // @catswag22 // @appl3-0rchard // @janeh22 // @boohoneyy // @sheslikeacurse // @customsbyjcg-blog // @urmotheris // @lewisvinga // @formulaal // @novocainenoon // @taytaylala12 // @esterdnebe // @jack0357 // @mortallyblueninja // @jexxy04 // @itsprashimusic // @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp // @annabellelee // @natsmywife // @daisyfreecs // @scorpiomindfuck // @themessietbihalive // @ananyasr1bughead

[mylifestylearedilfs]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ joost klein x tinder date!reader ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ OCEAN EYES : mention of sex (but no smut) fluff ; use of alcohol ; imagine ; all is fictional ; english is not my first language

(part two)

, , ,

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CREATING AN ACCOUNT on tinder wasn’t on your to do list, but after another failed attempt on meet your future ‘husband’ in real life, you decided to seek luck at this app. after choosing your best pictures, you set your profile with hope that you wouldn’t have to text with all of those weirdos that probably were on this site, asking themselves why i don’t have girlfriend?

you honestly couldn’t understand people (mostly the whole alfa men) on this kind of platforms, where they acted like they’re better than everyone else, but in reality they wouldn’t even say ‘hi’ to you. also what’s the point of having a dating app, if you can’t even properly ask the other person to date. you personally hated texting, it was the worst way to communicate, because you weren’t able to show your emotions clearly and it was easier to misunderstand the intentions.

you tried to ignore all suspicious looking people, but you lose hope, when even people your type were weird or impolite towards you. you were close to just delete app and forget about everything that happened. but then you received some kind of ‘super like’ from very good looking blonde man, the first thing that caught your attention was his bright blue eyes. how ironic, you thought. blonde hair and blue eyes, if he were a girl, he definitely would be miss universe. but god knew that he would be too powerful if he was a woman.

before you even checked his profile, you saw that he already messaged you. he already had big plus, because it was usually you who needed to start a conversation.

‘you & me, beer in an hour?’ okay, he definitely was really straightforward but you couldn’t tell that you didn’t liked it.

‘okay’

it was an irresponsible decision, but you couldn’t care less right now. you were truly tried of the endless conversations about nothing, you needed some adrenaline in your life. and even if it turn out that he’s a murderer, you will have an interesting story to tell your future kids — of course if you will survive in that scenario.

, , ,

it was almost twenty minutes after the set time, but you still waited like a fool, because you were curious if you were just scammed at this point. when your second cigarette started to slowly gutter out, you checked your phone to see if he tried to inform you about his lateness, but as you thought — nothing. you were honestly irritated that you couldn’t met a proper guy, not even for a relationship but just good sex, apparently you just missed to have someone close, in physical and mental way.

fuck it. you said to yourself and deleted this stupid dating app, right after you did that, you heard someone’s calling your name. before you turned around, you throw out a cigarette.

“i get it that i’m late, but you don’t have to ignore me” you saw the blonde guy in front of you, with two bottles of wine in his hands and two beer cans in his jeans pockets.

“so your real miss universe, nice to meet you” you said with a bit of irony in your voice, and he just laughed, giving you bootle of alcohol.

“or maybe i’m just in your imagination, guess we will never know” he said with smile, and you realised that he loved to laugh a lot, but honestly that was exactly what you needed now. some positive energy. “but now let’s go, shall we?”

, , ,

at first it was supposed to be quick meeting to get each other better and then probably forget about the existence of each other. but to your surprise it turned out that you were sitting in some sketchy looking place with joost for almost four hours already, and the fun only began.

you couldn’t believe that your perfect type of person was right in front of you and he was interested in you, which was the most unbelievable part. he was the first person that could make you laugh only by saying something random, or maybe it was because you were under the influence of weed, that you just smoked. either way his ability to turn every little thing into a joke was hilarious and you simply loved it.

suddenly you both became silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for you, which was also something new. all you could hear was the sound of wind and some other birds but you decided to interrupt the silence.

“you want to come to my place?” you said without thinking twice, well. . . let’s be honest your brain wasn’t working at all at the moment.

“to do what?” he looked at you with his typical smirk, sipping his beer.

“obviously to play monopoly” you said sarcastically, but underneath you had a little smile. “i want you to fuck me” you added and he seemed to be taken aback with your directness, as he watched you getting up.

“so you’re coming or i will need to please myself on my own?” you said, walking slowly in the direction of your house.

“you don’t need to tell me twice” he quickly said and you just chuckled as you felt his hands on your waist.

that was a great match, for sure.

, , ,

⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! hope you liked it!

[idkmanwtfishumanityanymore]

No I’m sorry Y’all I’m seriously still so fucking pissed off abt this episode, and I have to scream into the digital void about everything wrong with it and how downright mocking it felt or I’m gonna EXPLODE-

FIRST OFF, MY BIGGEST FUCKING ISSUE. Moon, near the end, says that “Bad people are bad people, no matter what dimension it is” or something similar.

HOW THE FUCK DOES SOLAR EXIST THEN, HM?

BECAUSE IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, SOLAR STARTED AS “NICE ECLIPSE”, BUT WAIT.. HOW CAN THAT BE POSSIBLE WHEN “BAD PEOPLE STAY BAD, NO MATTER THE DIMENSION”??? CAUSE I’M PRETTY FUCKING SURE ECLIPSE WAS BAD WHEN THAT HAPPENED, AND SOLAR WAS A GOOD VARIANT OF ECLIPSE.

YOUR LOGIC FALLS COMPLETELY, FUCKING, FLAT.

IF SOLAR, A GOOD ECLIPSE CAN EXIST, WHY IS IT SOOOOOO FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE FOR A GOOD BLOODMOON TO EXIST? HM? ANSWER ME THAT, HYPOCRITE.

THE ONLY FUCKING REASON, THEY WERE EVEN CONSIDERED “GOOD”, WAS BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T KILL. SOMETHING THEY ORIGINALLY, HAD TO FUCKING DO OR ELSE THEIR INSATIABLE BLOODLUST, WHICH WAS HARDWIRED INTO THEM, WOULD FORCE THEM TO GO AND KILL BECAUSE IT WAS PAINFUL TO IGNORE IT.

AND DON’T EVEN FUCKING GET ME STARTED ON HOW DISRESPECTFUL THIS FELT TO ANYONE WHO WAS (REASONABLY) PISSED OFF ABOUT HOW BLOODMOON’S CHARACTER WAS HANDLED, AND THE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY HAD AN ATTACHMENT TO HIM???

THIS WAS THE DEFINITION OF “If I give you what you want, will you fuck off?”

THE WRITERS, (probably fucking Davis), JUST TOSSED SOMETHING BLOODMOON RELATED AT THE FANDOM, TO GET US TO STOP CRITICIZING HOW HORRIBLY THEY HANDLED BLOODMOON AS A CHARACTER.

THEY JUST CHUCKED IT AT US, AND BASICALLY SAID; “Fuck off already, look, they can NEVER be actually good, they’ll always be bad, now stop whining”.

WE LITERALLY SAW THAT THEY COULD BE ATLEAST DOCILE-ISH IN A WAY, BACK WHEN THEY VERY BRIEFLY LIVED WITH FOXY AND FC. FOXY THOUGHT OF A WAY TO KEEP THEIR BLOODLUST AT BAY, THEY HAD ENTERTAINMENT IN THE FORM OF THE BOUNCY CHICK, AND THEY ACTUALLY SEEMED KINDA OKAY WITH LIVING THERE.

BUT NOOOOOOOO, THE FUCKING WRITERS GAVE US A GLIMPSE OF WHAT A VAST MAJORITY OF THE FANDOM WANTED, AND IMMEDIATELY RIPPED IT AWAY LIKE 3 OR 2 DAYS LATER BY HAVING THEM BOTH ABRUPTLY GO AFTER FOXY, AND HARVEST GOT FUCKING KILLED.

THEY WERE FUCKING DEPENDENT ON EACHOTHER TO SURVIVE AND FUNCTION, THEY WERE LITERALLY EACHOTHER’S OTHER HALF. WE CAN CLEARLY SEE THIS WHEN BLOODMOON IS STRUGGLING WITH PLANNING AND CALCUTION, BECAUSE THE OTHER TWIN HANDLED IT. THE OTHER TWIN KNEW HOW TO PLAN, AND CALCULATE SHIT FOR THEIR PLANS, THE REMAINING TWIN WAS THE BRAWN, AND THE OTHER WAS THE BRAIN IN SIMPLE TERMS.

AND DOUBLE DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HOW BLOODMOON WAS LITERALLY HARASSED AFTER HIS BROTHER WAS KILLED???

MONTY AND PUPPET, BOTH, FORCED BLOODMOON TO SIT ON THEIR STUPID LITTLE FUCKING PODCAST, AND PROBED HIM WITH ENDLESS QUESTIONS ABOUT HIS BROTHER.

FOR FUCKS SAKE, MONTY’S FIRST WORDS AFTER THE TIMESKIP WERE “How’s it feel bein’ an only sibling?” OR SOMETHING INCREDIBLY SIMILAR, AND YES, I’LL GIVE PUPPET SOME CREDIT, SHE SEEMED A TINY BIT DISAPPOINTED WITH MONTY FOR OPENING WITH THAT, BUT LIKE 5 OR SO MINUTES LATER, SHE WAS PLAYING THE FUCKING DEATH OF BLOODMOON’S BROTHER, ON FUCKING LOOP, AND EXPECTED HIM TO WATCH.

AND THEN THEY HAVE THE GALL TO CALL THEIR COMMUNITY, ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS THEY CAN EVEN HAVE SUCCESS FROM THEIR CHANNELS, CRAZY, FOR THINKING THAT THEY WENT TOO FAR, AND HAVING EVEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF SYMPATHY OR EMPATHY FOR BLOODMOON.

THEY CLAIM WE’RE INSANE FOR HAVING BASIC HUMAN REACTIONS TO SEEING SOMEONE LOSE A LOVED ONE.

THEY CLAIM WE’RE MENTALLY UNSTABLE FOR SYMPATHIZING WITH THE TWINS AND THEIR TRAUMA, WHICH MIGHT I ADD IS NEVER FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGED??

IF ECLIPSE IS ABLE TO HAVE A REDEMPTION ARC, BECAUSE HE’S “NOT THE SAME PERSON”, AND “A CLONE”, WHY IS IT SO IMPOSSIBLE THAT THE TWINS, WHO ALSO WEREN’T THE SAME PEOPLE, AND WERE ALSO CLONES, TO BE EVEN SLIGHTLY REDEEMED??

I DON’T FUCKING CARE IF THEY WERE STILL KILLERS, IT WAS STILL HARDWIRED INTO THEM, IN BOTH ITERATIONS.

I’m not going to touch how predatory Ruin was with them back in October right now, or ever, because I’m honestly appalled that the writers WENT THERE with their script.

Every fucking argument made in this stupid fucking mockery of a video falls flat, and directly conflicts with past fully canon information, and I’m fucking pissed.

on a lighter note, more (JUSTIFIED) complaints about the loan-shark!twins;

OKAY WHY THE FUCK DID THEY SEPARATE THEM INTO “BLOOD” AND “MOON”, COULDN’T THEY HAVE ATLEAST TRIED TO CONNECT WITH THEIR COMMUNITY AND USE ONE OF THE MANY RENAMES WE’VE HAD? BLOODY AND HARVEST, SYTHE AND HATCHET, CRIMSON AND MAROON TO NAME A FEW, BUT “BLOOD” AND “MOON”??? GOD HOW FUCKING DISCONNECTED CAN THEY BE?? THERE’S ALSO ALREADY A MOON THAT EXISTS, SO HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT WORK? HOW CONFUSING DOES IT GET WHEN THEY’RE IN THE SAME ROOM AND SOMEONE SAYS “MOON”, BUT ONLY MEANS ONE OF THEM???

And then the sheer fact that they were literally traumatized by the thought of drinking blood- like I’m sorry but that is NOT enough to traumatize anyone, unless they have like, a crippling phobia of blood. Hemophobia or something like that I think. And considering they say they “bleed people dry” (financially), I don’t think they have a fear of blood, or they wouldn’t use the saying-

So there ya have it, me, in the dark, at 10:33PM on a Friday night in July, on the 26th, writing a whole ass essay assignment because of how PISSED OFF one single episode made me.

I’m gonna go die now. (For legal reasons I mean go to bed /Gen)

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men #8 - Raid on Graymalkin

I think I've come to terms with the fact that the target demographic for the line is quite a distance from my desires and expectations. I'm still grieving Krakoa and the kind of follow up we could have had but I've accepted it's not happening in any form. If anything, I'd call From The Ashes the anti-Krakoa. With that in mind, X-Men #8 was pretty damn good!

Uh oh.

The issue has an unknown timeskip from where #7 left off, but it's implied that it's a matter of days not weeks. As shown in solicits, Beast is in Graymalkin prison and the president of Terra Verde is there to hold him accountable for the genocide during Krakoa. What's made explicit is that Warden Ellis is going to sell him to them for a show trial and execution. Why a show trial? Hank McCoy did those things. Not this one, but is that common knowledge? Either way everyone's motivations are clear.

Especially Cyclops', as he is not happy about Hank getting snatched and declares they're breaking the prison. Psylocke tries to calm him down, suggesting he's not thinking clearly, but despite some justified anger I'd say he's clear-headed. It would have been wise to talk to Rogue (something they're capable of doing instantly) but it's a crossover. People don't communicate in those. The X-Men figure out exactly what happened very quickly and form a plan.

Warden Ellis hasn't had any page time in this book, so it's necessary to show how awful she is for folks who only read adjectiveless. We also get a better idea of how many inmates they have - at least 30 but likely more. Hank, Jubilee and Calico aren't delighted to find themselves in a prison drama mess hall, and find the time for some light inter-team rivalry. I had thought Jubilee was working with both teams but it seems she's picked a side. This Beast has never met Jubilee, but they make nice.

Ellis tells Calico she'll be free to go due to her family donating to the prison. She accepted her mutant status very suddenly during the last issue of Uncanny, but there's a reason she fled - they're the kind of people who donate to a gulag. Unless Ellis is lying here to break any solidarity she formed with this affidavit. Wouldn't surprise me. Calico isn't having it, chowing down on the gruel that is 'mutant food.' Saucier would be horrified by that but it's a nice character beat here.

Her tears definitely help sell it. Calico has had a very sheltered life up until she ended up here, escaped (I think,) lived in the woods for who knows how long, and now she's back here. Ellis orders her beaten but Hank steps up and absorbs the beating for her.

'Is that all you've got, screw?' is an excellent line and declaration of defiance. Fuck prisons and the people who run them. The guards beat the shit out of him though he doesn't try to defend himself at all. Ellis leaves to deal with a commotion and orders the guards to keep beating him. It's brutal and it shows Hank at his best.

Said commotion is the X-Men, who teleported the Marauder into the yard and trashed a lot of their ordinance as well as the main power. My purple prose makes it seem slower, but this happens early in the issue. One of my issues with this book so far has been one of pacing. There's been so many disparate threats and plot elements plus an entire issue dedicated to a Morrison/Quitely psychic rescue homage - but the pacing here is sharp and purposeful.

Magik's reinforcements are demons from Limbo and she explicitly asks what the murder parameters are. Scott insists on no killing. Appropriate character beats for them both and even a nice nod to their war-forged friendship. Rule of cool is absolutely in play, adding to the beats as opposed to standing in for them.

Here they are! I wonder what the deal is with Limbo right now. Maddie Pryor was in charge in recent Infinity Comics after Magik gave her the crown, but I can't pretend to be an expert on Limbo demon politics. It shows Cyclops' pragmatism as a commander, using all resources at his disposal, and the guards are delightfully terrified. Good.

Cutting to Ellis frames it as a contest of commanders, zooming out from the battle without losing either side's front line POV. With so many characters in play I think this kind of formalism is necessary and it works well here. That they're ideological opposites heightens the tension and drives the conflict forward. Nobody is backing down here.

I wonder how Juggernaut feels about his childhood home as a gulag he's about to break into. I hope that's touched on.

One of the big challenges with set piece battles is keeping track of where everyone is and what they're doing. If a character just appears at an objective there's no tension, whereas showing us where each combatant is and what they're attempting sets up the spoken plan guarantee so it can go wrong. We know where the pieces are so when something goes wrong the heroes have to improvise and pivot with the unexpected.

The X-Men have momentum and the advantage right now, but Ellis has further assets to deploy.

Gotta love the coordination of the psychic Discord allowing Temper and Psylocke to take advantage of vertical space so Cyclops can unleash an optic blast. It's sharp, kinetic action as well as a display of competence before the unexpected flips everything on its head.

Using Psylocke to get up to date intelligence on enemy tactics reinforces this while signalling that the turn is right around the corner. They don't want to fight mutants but they may have to. Ellis' trustees have been seeded all through Uncanny and it's horrifying to learn the extent of it. The X-Men know before we do, so our imagination briefly goes wild before we turn the page.

Blob AKA Fred Dukes has been wonderfully rehabilitated in the last five years, first in Age of X-Man and then as the dutiful, friendly barkeep of Krakoa's Green Lagoon. Seeing him like this sucks, but it's earned and should concern Scott who's been fighting him since he was a teenager. They don't want to hurt him though they do know how to neutralize him.

Then the action and adrenaline screeches to a halt as they come face to face with the Uncanny team. It's an effective cliffhanger to end on and the first explicit scene to say 'yes, this is a crossover.' It speaks well of the issue that Mackay waits until the last page to show that the Uncanny team are doing the same thing as the X-Men - a prison break.

I don't love that the tension between the teams has not been built aside from Logan (whose eyes are healed!) inexplicably hating on Scott. Rogue is effectively calling Scott out for standing by and poor communication, but both apply to her too. It's a cliffhanger within a crossover, so it's doubly unlikely they start fighting immediately, but I do wish we'd been given more reason for them to be at odds. Solicits suggest they don't come to blows until Uncanny #8, so hopefully they're able to cooperate in the short term. There's been a lot of editorialising about an ideological divide between the two, and a heated, dangerous situation is a good place for that to happen.

I've made no effort to hide my disappointment in this area, but the slick execution of this issue gives me some hope. Time will tell. I'll be frank and say that crossover events are often rife with needless conflict and mischaracterisation. However, so far so good, as Jed Mackay has had a great week of X-Men. He nailed Avengers #21 and X-Men #8 was a huge step up from the tenor of the run so far. The pacing is top notch, the characters are acting like themselves, and all the pieces are in place for some messy escalation. I've been harsh on his work so far, so it's only fair to give credit where it's due. X-Men #8 is a banger well worth reading.

[catacombbee]

theory time. spoilers for sbg new episode 74

does anyone actually fucking trust Maverick rn? im so fr i don't trust him one BIT.

Alex i trust. Alex seems like he has good intentions (especially with him telling Aiden he wasnt supposed to tell them) but how much could he really help? it doesn't feel like he's very high up the totem pole yk. maybe we'll have like a- Alex sticking his neck out to help/save the kids somehow and dies for it, perhaps on accident

but anyway I DONT FUCKING TRUST MAVERICK AND YOURE DUMB IF YOU DO im kidding. im kidding you're not dumb. im kidding you're amazing and go drink your water rn pls

i have SO MANY THOUGHTS ON

1. the fact he's trying to get the kids to trust him

2. the fact that he went to BEN first of all people

starting with no. 1, i think he wants something. he so CLEARLY wants something. i don't TRUST THIS MAN he may be HOT but he is UP TO SMTH!!! what i don't know is what he wants from the kids. getting them on his side and trusting him feels like a way of getting more information out of them, and what could he possibly be digging for if not more information on the phantom realm?

Alex was asking Ashlyn about the fact that they all asked for ASL books at the same time and thus must have some way of communicating. i think they must know it has to do with the phantom realm (though they don't know that it's an entire separate dimension i think) and Maverick wants to know more about how they're communicating. with the promise that he will protect them from the rest of the government, which i think might just entail "keeping you for ourselves"

and how does he get the kids to trust them? making himself seem like a good option, and separating himself from "those who put them here." the government. the bad part of the government. and how does he do that?

well that's where we come to no. 2

they have cameras. they can watch the kids and how they're acting. in fact, they've been watching the kids for a while now. if i were to pick anyone to try and talk to to get on my side having observed them from a distance, maybe id pick Taylor or Logan. the others are stubborn or unpredictable in their own ways.

So why Ben?

Maverick is trying to draw several comparisons in Ben's mind, especially with using language like the above and like this:

What Maverick is trying to connect in Ben's mind is this:

The authority = The government that locked them up here

The government =/ Maverick and his people

He's trying to get into Ben's mind and say "Hey. We want the same thing you want: to get rid of this place." The way he calls them a bunch of pigs ALMOST makes me hesitate on thinking he's being insincere, but on the other hand would that phrasing not resonate with a jaded teenage boy who's been in trouble before?

Maverick went to Ben because he saw a way in through Ben. Even though Ben is violent and stubborn (right now. and towards the staff), he recognizes that he can use Ben's past as a way of leveraging himself to a higher status in Ben's mind. Besides, if he can get one of the more stubborn kids to crack first, he's got a much easier way in with the others.

Furthermore, this will lead to more observation. He must know the kids are communicating somehow, he just doesn't know how exactly yet. This part isn't Ben specific, but by talking to one of them, he then gives himself the opportunity to watch the rest more closely for any mention of things he's said to Ben. Evidence that they have some way of talking. A way of figuring out how they're doing so.

Maverick is using Ben's past to manipulate him into trusting him.

and im pissed off abt that

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY. A GA-

anyway though i just wanted to rant about this episode and how it made me feel cus im upset and i want to hug Ben. if you don't like my theory and/or have a different one please please reblog and yap about it (nicely) i LOVELOVELOVE hearing different opinions on headcanons and theories and such. OR BUILD ON MY THEORY! i like yapping pls yap to me okay bye

also ty @arcaneafterhours for giving me screenshots cus i can't screenshot. ilu

[disneyprincemuke]

red flags waving

george russell x reader - series masterlist

784.

men like george don’t come by often. so when he asked you out on a date about six weeks ago, you said ‘yes’.

george had been so upfront and direct with his intentions with you: to be with you. but what you hadn’t expected was for the man of your dreams to be more sensitive than the average person.

sometimes you don’t get it. you don’t get it to the point where you question if you’re too desensitised to understand where he is coming from. has your mind been poisoned by every other guy you’ve been with that you can no longer consider yourself a sane and proper person to be in a relationship with?

it can’t be, right?

to put it into perspective, you’ve had just gone through a bad and messy break up a couple of weeks ago. putting yourself back out there was a choice out of boredom, clearly not expecting to hit it off with anyone so soon.

so it’s only natural that you’re not prepared to be in anything serious. if anything, you’d very much prefer to get to know george better before dipping your toe into the thought of potentially being with him romantically.

truth is, you should have walked away. but with somebody so upfront about his intentions with dating you and making it serious, could you really blame yourself for compromising with his seemingly unreasonable demands?

but what your friends told you is that you should have walked away for your sake.

because here you are again, in an argument with george because you had casually brought up a story that you thought was funny; about a guy from your past that you had hooked up with.

the kicker is: he didn’t think it was funny.

george stands in front of you with his hands on his hips. “why would you think that was appropriate to say to me?”

you furrow your eyebrows. “what do you mean? i was just sharing a story with you.”

“about your time spent with guys that’s not me? what makes you think i wanna hear about that?” george scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. “that’s so stupid.”

“i just thought it was funny!”

“well, it’s not. it just tells me that you’re not over these men if you’re still talking about them.”

“what?”

what an absurd way to look at telling stories. you hadn’t even gone into detail, just a brief story of another mishap on one of the many dates you’d gone on a couple of years ago.

it’s weird that he’d have such a take on it.

“yeah. if you’re over it, you’d not be talking about it right now,” he shrugs simply. “wait– you still follow those blokes on your social media?”

you press your lips together, trying to gauge his reaction. you’re not quite sure what to answer. “yes?” you answer in a small voice with a head tilt. “we don’t talk anymore, obviously, but–“

“have you got any idea how fucking ridiculous you sound right now?”

“i’m sorry, what?” you cry incredulously. there’s just no way.

“what is the point of following them?”

“what’s the point of unfollowing them if there’s no bad blood? it’s just social media!”

“you’re keeping a line of communication open for them to get back with you.”

“i’ll just ignore them if they try and reach out. which, for the record, has not happened yet.”

“but you’re giving them the opportunity to do so.”

“no, i’m not. it just doesn’t make sense for me to be so particular about it.”

“then what’s the point of following them?”

you have to admit — that question caught you off guard. when you really think about it, there is no point still following men you used to go out with. but isn’t that the point of social media; to connect with people?

and if it hadn’t ended on a bad note, what is the point of cutting them out from your life completely?

but this is now what you believe in. social media is just a way to keep you connected to people you used to know. it’s nice to reminisce sometimes, but it doesn’t have to have a deeper meaning to it.

“but–“

“i don’t know,” george mutters softly, shaking his head at you. he’s slowly walking away as you try and reach out for his hand. “you gotta figure this out. i’m not compromising with this — it’s weird.”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane

[vaguely-concerned]

I listened to the first episode of vows and vengeance and... god. god forget waiting for veilguard, how the fuck am I going to survive the wait between each episode of this???? tl;dr: I loved it, I love dragon age, I love audio dramas, I love voice acting and music, I love thedas, I am IMMEDIATELY painfully invested. if nadia doesn't get her sweet fancy lad back whole and unharmed by the end of this I am killing everyone in tevinter and then myself.

more thoughts under the cut! not a lot of deep analysis just flailing and feelings today haha

I hadn't realized that elio would be a magister! idk if it was in any marketing beforehand, but if so I didn't pay enough attention to remember it lol. he sounds like he might be prime lucerni-material politically, so I'm a little sad we didn't get even a subtle dorian or maevaris easter egg in there, as far as I could tell, but hey, you can't have everything. (honestly unless BIG changes are upon us (which tbf they probably are) it might be just as well that this went down as it did, b/c I'm not sure how long elio would survive in the magisterium that we've heard tell of, he's quite -- either soft and shortsighted, or politically reckless, I think nadia was right there.)

I found nadia, elio and their dynamic very effectively introduced -- the fact that they haven't quite figured out how to be good to each other yet but so clearly both desperately want to be and are willing to work for that is a smart place to start the story. it makes it feel all the sadder if they never get the chance to work it all out, because I think they could have every chance to, given the time.

The voice actors for the central characters are all wonderful (orin's was. fine! doing a good enough job with a slightly more thankless role, let's call it that.) also so nice to hear people humming the tavern songs we heard in inquisition. god I love thedas I'm so glad we're getting to go right back in there soon

The episode was longer than I thought they would get, and it was all the better for it! I'm so happy it seems they'll get the space they need to tell this story, especially since nadia appears to be setting out on quite a continent-spanning odyssey here (I'm so sorry about your life nadia)

SOLAS solas solas! solas. solas!!!! he is such a BITCH and I love him so much. he is being aggressively himself and I didn't realize just how much I'd missed him. no one gets me frustrated quite like you baby you know better than this I KNOW you could know better than this why do you never learn a single thing I know you have the capacity somewhere in there. patron saint of endlessly fucking up. WHERE do you get off being condescending to nadia when all your ~*brilliant*~ plans backfire catastrophically on you every single time solas. yeah of course you're sorry, and you fucking better be, if she stabbed you I'd be sad but also like 'yeah I mean you had that one coming sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯' about it!!! what the fuck. come home please

such a weird feeling to have him be an ominous stranger on the road to elio and nadia while I was standing there with my arms crossed and my foot tapping irritably like 'oh so now he shows his face, there he is. my husband. my ex-husb -- my nemesis and poor little meo -- it's complicated alright. he's in the dog house, but the dog house he's in is still mine'. I do adore how unstoppably solas clearly wants to be a teacher, he works so hard to be mysterious and aloof but the lonely insufferable chatterbox knowitall jumps out at every turn.

neve trying and almost succeeding in freezing the whole bay I'm

like. okay then! much to think about

the only thing I'm not a big fan of is the characters calling out in-game spells in sort of a self-indulgent way, but hell if I know how else you'd communicate exactly what's going down magically in an audio format like this so y'know. very easily forgiven from my side honestly

[bvbygrl-writes]

What Do I Know?

Pairing: Rich!Dilf!Sam Wilson x Black!College Student!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Your best friend ain’t tell ya her dad was a daddy.

A/N: This is a repost from my old blog since I haven't been able to write anything with how exhausting work is jtgktr enjoy! ♥

Warnings: Age gap, fingering, pussy eating, overstim, fucking

THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE. I CHECK EVERY ACCOUNT DO NOT PLAY WITH ME.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come home with you? This isn’t some small break like spring or that lil rinky dink one they give us in February.” (Y/n) asked, zipping the sides of her suitcase together. The long awaited summer break had come and after tiring, long hours of college classes all (Y/N) and Miyaki wanted to do was head home.

Well that was the original plot however it had clearly been lost. One phone call home and all of a sudden her mom and dad had magically ‘forgot’ to inform her that they had planned a trip for the two of them and the addition of her other three siblings (who somehow had been informed and never got left out..) to Europe. Although the girl was originally mad - rightfully so- she got over it really fast. So much so that she didn’t even bother letting her mom finish her little half assed excuse of how she thought she had texted her with the info and what not. This was her summer too and she was not going to start it off being upset over family drama.

However she still did feel bad about joining Miyaki on her trip home. The two girls had become fast friends during their few years at college and as the tall woman had said “We’ve been friends for years and ain’t been to each other’s houses once. You don’t think that’s a lil weird?” and she had to agree but it was one thing to spend the night at a friend’s house but to spend an entire summer? That was practically unheard of from where she came from! Nobody had that kind of money and food to be feeding an extra mouth for an entire three months.

“Yes girl, relax! I asked my dad today if it was chill for you to come and he agreed! Quit worrying and grab yo shit, the car is waiting out front.” The green eyed girl said, tossing her faux locs over her shoulders. Before (Y/n) could get in another worry or complaint she walked out of the dorm, slamming the door behind her.

“That girl has some serious attitude problems, I’ll tell ya that…” the girl muttered to herself, rolling her suitcase in tow. She eyed the dorm one last time, smiling at the nice memories they had made this year before exiting, leaving the key under the mat for the next students that’d come to stay.

——————————

The first sign that Miyaki came from a different living situation from her was the shiny black Rolls-Royce parked in front of the housing part of campus. There was an older gentleman in a chauffeur outfit who put their bags in the car. She’d given her friend a look who gave her a confused one back before hopping in the car with her. Was this really not out of the ordinary for her? If this was just her car what would her house look like?

(Y/n) let out an audible gasp as the big black gates opened.

“You live in a gated community?!” she exclaimed, turning to her roommate. Miyaki’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Gated community? Sis….this is my house!” she let out a laugh as the (h/c) haired girl remained silent, looking at the large house in awe. How many people lived with Miyaki? To say she was stunned was an understatement. Miyaki was the most down to earth person she had met since going to college at Stonebrook. As the name suggested, it was a really prestigious and fancy school, tons of stuck up brats on daddy and mommy’s pay going to the school. (Y/n) had always been isolated by her peers since she was attending on a scholarship. They found it pathetic and pitied her which she despised. Why should she be looked down on for actually working to get into school?

Miyaki had never felt that way though. She treated (Y/n) as she treated everyone else…if not a little better (the girl had quite a mean streak) and was very quiet about her home life. But now as they walked up the quartz stairs and through the big marble columns, she could understand why.

“Dad, we’re home! Come meet my friend!” the girl’s voice echoed across the entire house causing her to snicker. ‘Does she ever use an inside voice?’

“I’ll be down in a sec, sweetheart!” a deep baritone voice called out. (Y/n) felt her heart race at the sound. The man’s voice went through her ears like silk. It was smooth but had a bit of a dark tinge to it, like a hint of cream in black coffee. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through her socials as she awaited the man’s presence. After what felt like forever a pair of footsteps came in their direction before parking in front of them. The woman almost dropped her phone at the sight in front of her.

In front of her was the finest man she had ever seen. Brown skin that had that healthy glow, prominent cheekbones, and a bit of facial hair around the mouth region. He was only in jeans and a t- shirt but the way it fit him? The shirt clung to his torso perfectly, the muscles of his upper arms constricted by the cuffs, toned chest. This was her father? She could’ve never guessed by how fit he was! Thighs so thick that she had to stop herself from letting her thoughts drift (more so than they already were..). But when he smiled? Her legs turned to jello. His smile was bright and blinding and he had the most charming gap. It seemed as time had slown down when she was looking at him and from the looks of it he wasn’t disappointed at what he was seeing either. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her midriff for just a little too long or the slight whistle he let out before covering it up with a cough.

“I’m Sam Wilson, Miyaki’s father. You must be (Y/n).” he said, holding a hand out for her to take. She gladly accepted it, shaking it with one hand as she placed the other one on top of both of them in a gentle way. The girl smiled back at him offering him a nod.

“Indeed I am! It’s so Nice to meet you Mr.Wilson and can I just say how thankful I am for you and Mrs.Wilson allowing me to stay with you guys for the summer. Especially with Miyaki’s short notice and all.” out of the corner of her eye she could see Miyaki roll her eyes at her sudden over-politeness towards her father and the way she had completely thrown her under the bus. Her attention was brought fully back to the man in question as he tightened his grip around her hand some.

“Mrs.Wilson? I’m not surprised Miyaki didn’t give you the details. It’ll only be the three of us here for the summer so in other words, there is no Mrs.Wilson.” he looked to the side a bit before turning back to face her, a smirk present on his face. “Also you don’t gotta be so formal, just Sam will do.” Miyaki cleared her throat impatiently causing the two to look to the side before laughing together. “Well it looks like Yaki is getting impatient so if you girls need anything, I’ll be around. Dinner is at 6.” the older man gave her a once over before walking off to what she could only assume was the kitchen.

“Girlll and you been hiding him from me because??” (Y/n) asked, rubbing her hands together. Miyaki smacked her lips together, dragging the girl towards her room.

“You betta stop playing with me.” when her friend stayed quiet, the girl gasped, turning her head. “Wait you’re joking…you tryna get my dad to hit?! Oof.” she grunted as one of her pillows hit the back of her head. Turning she saw her friend on her bed, glaring at her.

“Don’t say it like that! All I said was he’s fine nothing more nothing less. That can’t be your first time hearing that, one of your other friends has had to say something.” She felt the girl thud down beside her on the bed. She hummed for a bit before flipping over to face her friend.

“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised really. You love you an older man. Remember when you switched to that one baking course just so you could flirt and make googly eyes with Mr.Garcia?”

“That’s not why I switched! I was simply interested in getting to know his favorite dessert!” (Y/n) exclaimed, turning her head the opposite way. “In hopes that maybe I could become his favorite dessert.” 

“Whateva. Anyways, you wanna watch a movie till dinner?”

—————————–

Dinner had been amazing. Sam went all out, pulled out the grill, made dessert, it was all so lavish and delicious! He even had lobster which (Y/n) made sure to take full advantage of. He had said help yourself and who was she to go against his wishes in his home? 

It was now around three in the morning as she stumbled around the house curiously. She and Miyaki had gone to bed early, absolutely exhausted from the long car ride over and while it was easy for her friend to stay asleep when turning in early, she found it hard to. No matter what if she went to bed before twelve she’d always end up waking up during some odd hour of the night. 

A sound came from down the hallway catching her attention. It was a repeated thudding and while usually she wouldn’t go chasing after mysterious noises, she knew it couldn’t be anything too bad. Sam had the security on this house underlock and she had seen how beefy his security guards were. 

Once she reached the end she turned the knob from the room in which the sound was coming from. Gasping quietly, she opened the door a little wider trying to be as quiet as she could. The sight in front of her was absolutely heavenly. There was Sam, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of grey joggers beating the hell out of a punching bag. His jabs were sharp and powerful causing the chains to rattle with each blow to the sack. Goosebumps formed all over her skin at the sight of his power. If he could do that to a punching bag, what could he do with her? 

All the  what ifs invaded her mind causing her to rub her thighs together hungrily in thought. She hadn’t even noticed that Sam had moved until the door she was standing in closed, leaving the two of them in the room together. He offered her a smile, a yawn interrupting his incoming words. His arms flexed above his head giving her an even better view of his muscles. It was an even grander sight than she had imagined when she saw him clothed earlier.

“Can’t sleep?” she shook her head at his question, sitting on the bench in front of him. “ ‘S alright. Why don’t you help me train then? Try to get me to the ground. Come on, don’t be shy, didn’t seem like you were earlier.”

———————————-

As expected, (Y/n) couldn’t get him to the ground at all! Time and time again he had managed to get her down but she couldn’t complain too much. Being this close to a hot and sweaty man? Having him touch and feel all over her body? She could get used to this.

“You know, for an old man you’re pretty strong!” (Y/n) was out of breath, sweat dripping down her chest. Letting out a deep breath she held a hand out for Sam to shake. He eyed it before taking it causing her to give him a devilish grin. Within a few seconds she had dragged him close, sweeping a foot under his leg. He fell like she intended but what she hadn’t done was calculating him keeping a hold on her wrist. The two both fell with a thud, Sam hitting the mat while the not so sneaky woman fell on top of him. She pushed herself up, hands flush against his chest as she straddled him, looking down at him. Her eyes widened at the feeling of two large hands gripping her ass, eyes trailing up to his.

“Didn’t you say you were having trouble sleeping? I think I got something that can put you right to sleep.” was this really happening? Was she hearing him correctly? That thought didn’t last long at the feeling of his dick poking at her through the fabric of his sweats. His dark eyes were practically black from how blown out his pupils were. Leaning forward, their lips connected. 

The kiss was slow and sensual like the vibes he gave off. His lips were soft, the taste of coffee mixed with his natural taste. As the kiss grew more heated, Sam flipped them over, laying the girl gently on the mat. He continued with a trail of kisses, from her neck, collarbone, his fingers massaging the flesh of her hips. His lips gave extra love to her chest, licking and sucking upon the brown sensitive buds. 

His open mouth trail of kisses slowly became sucking the further and further he got towards the center of her legs.

“C-careful. Don’t leave- don’t leave marks our else Miyaki might see.” she warned, causing him to pause momentarily. Lifting his head he chuckled some, brushing his thumb against the sensitive area of skin near her upper thigh. Whether or not it’d be visible in summer attire was something she wouldn’t know until she got dressed the next day. Massaging her legs, he leaned up near her face, softly caressing her cheek.

“You’re a smart girl, (Y/n). I’m sure you can figure it out.” she huffed but remained quiet, a pout prominent on her face. A large hand came to rest around her throat, squeezing lightly. “ I’d advise you to lose the attitude if you wanna go to bed satisfied.” She shuddered at his words but remained quiet, anxiously awaiting what he’d do next.

From the looks of it, he wasn’t sure where he was going to take it next. He was eager, lust clouding his brain and thoughts. Sam was now acting on primal instincts alone. He reached for her sleep shorts, peeling them off before tossing them to the side. Keeping the eye contact they had, he guided two of his fingers into the mess that was her cunt. Despite barely touching her, her pussy was beyond creamy, juices dripping out the further he stuck his fingers in. Long, thick digits made their way into her with ease.

He made sure their eyes were connected, his stern eyes in a narrow assertion of dominance while her own (e/c) ones were glossed over as she fought to keep them open and focused on him. It was an agreement that didn’t need to be spoken: her eyes were to be on him at all times. Every so often her eyes would jitter close as his fingers nudged against her spot but still she persisted, wanting to be good for him, to prove herself.

Sam removed his fingers, guiding them up to the girl’s lips. Her eyes widened, gagging around the digits as waiting tears finally fell. Once he was satisfied he removed them, positioning himself between her legs. Using his thumbs he spread apart her pussy lips, salivating. Her cunt was so plush, clit engorged and pulsating, just aching to be touched.

He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it as he swirled his tongue. The girl reached instantly, hands clinging to his head the best that she could as her hips arched forward. This is something Sam usually wouldn’t fly with but he’d allow it this once. An airy moan fell from her lips as she continued to buck against his face, pelvis jerking rapidly at the feeling of his fingers lightly teasing her around her hole.

(Y/n) felt her entire body buzzing with pleasure. Her hands searched for anything to cling onto as her orgasm approached her, making its way to her faster and faster. An overstimulated whimper left her lips followed by her slick coating the older man’s face and mouth which he gladly accepted, the most sinful of noises leaving him as he cleaned her up. Her clench eyes relaxed as her body fell limp to the mat, chest heaving in heavy breaths.

“You tapping out already, princess?” she lifted her head from the ground, propping herself up onto her elbows as she gave him a glare. Kicking him onto his back, she climbed into his lap, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance, bits of his precum mixing with the reminisce of her arousal. 

“Not even close old man.” they both shared a loud groan as she sunk down onto him in one swift movement. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she tried to gain a hold on him, wanting to get the upper hand. However Sam was just so…large. His girth stretched her out greatly, the head of his cock just barely kissing her cervix causing her to let out a pathetic whimper. Sam chuckled some, wrapping his hands around her waist, guiding her own to rest around his shoulders.

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you. You gotta relax though or it’s gonna be a toughy for both of us.” she nodded lazily at his words, tightening her grip on his shoulders, head under his chin. He rubbed at her back gently, feeling as her muscle began to untense around him. “Better?”

“Y-yes just move. Wanna feel you.” he placed a kiss to the top of her head before beginning to thrust, letting out a small ‘fuck’ under his breath. Despite her being fully relaxed and prepped, she was still so tight around him. After a bit of trial and error, he had finally managed to find a good rhythm but even with as patient as he was he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Locking his arms around the base of her spine, he gripped her in his arms, trading out his slow and deep thrust for a series of fast and shallow ones. The sounds she was making for him only egged him on as she babbled and drooled on about how she couldn’t take it, how good it felt. 

“O-oh god! ‘M not gonna la-last any longer! Wanna cum with you! Wanna- can we, pl-please!” she cried out, tears mixing with the mess of drool on her face. 

“Yeah? Let’s cum together then.” he agreed, not having much left in him himself. With a few final powerful thrust, Sam came deep inside of her, (Y/n) following right along with him. The girl fell forward into his chest, the both of them panting, holding each other covered in sweat. She let out a soft chuckle, looking up at the man who was already staring down at her.

(Y/n) had originally thought it was gonna be a long summer, but this was way different from what she had in mind. She was fucked.

Metaphorically and Physically.

[xerith-42]

18 or so Shadow Knight Headcanons

If you saw the earlier version of this post where I fucked up the tags no you didn't

Ever since falling back down the Minecraft Diaries rabbit hole like two seconds after I showed up on this site, I have come up with a lot of headcanons about this series, especially pertaining to Shadow Knights and Shadow Knight characters. And a lot of mine and others best ideas have been written in comments, reblogs, or in discord servers, or I just never wrote them down anywhere. So I want to make this post compiling all of them. Most of these headcanons are mine, but a few I would call collaborative processes and I will credit these people when they come up. I love this community. It feels really nice to say that.

General SK Headcanons

All Shadow Knights fluctuate between having cold or warm blood depending on if/how they've answered the calling. If they've yet to answer the calling, their blood is cold until the calling pulls on them and makes their blood warm in an attempt to draw them back to the Nether. If a Shadow Knight answers the call, they gain full regulation over their blood temperature because they're immortal. That doesn't really matter anymore. (original idea came from a convo with @laurencezvahlslefteyebrow )

Shadow Knights have less of a need for sleeping or eating, and if they're fully immortal they often forgo the concepts entirely. This leads to incomplete ones often forgetting to sleep for days on end, or neglecting their need to eat if they aren't reminded to.

Time moves slower in the Nether than it does in the Overworld, so a lot of Shadow Knights often struggle with their perception of time. Especially Laurance because he was already struggling with the time dilation AND THEN got flung fifteen years into the future. Man does not know what day it is or what year it is, and sometimes Vylad will tell you the date and it's like weeks off.

Garroth just has an innate ability to fuck with the heads of Shadow Knights. It's just what he does. At first it's largely through Laurance by showing him a patience and understanding, all while being able to assure his own safety. And when he starts caring for Vylad, it completely upends how they're used to looking at something they thought they had come to terms with.

The Doll Headcanons!! (original image from @adepressedgaydragon)

Vylad is used to dealing with any symptoms of being a Shadow Knight on his own. He's been on the run/in hiding for like 17 years or something, and was clearly neglected and used to being on his own from a young age. So they've become very used to handling the moments where his body just stops working. Where all they can do is lay limp against the wall, occasionally jerking and having random muscle spasms. Vylad learned to control them a little, make it so he can just get it all over with in a few hours instead of randomly.

He forgets to hide as well once he's around others. Vylad enters one of these episodes and when he gains control of his body again, Garroth is sitting at his side. When he hastily tries to apologize, Garroth says very carefully "It's okay. I know it isn't your fault."

One time, one single time before his betrayal, Garroth notices Zenix in a state of standing completely still, but his shoulders are limp, and he isn't moving at all, lifeless like a puppet with its strings cut. When Garroth questions him on it, Zenix insists nothing's wrong and tells him to mind his own business. It's only after Garroth sees Laurance like this for the first time and Laurance explains that it's a Shadow Knight thing that Garroth realizes. He realizes he could have noticed what was wrong with Zenix before he had a chance to hurt anyone.

Gene and Zenix get in a fight and when Zenix slams Gene's head against the wall, instead of the sound of bone and blood, there's the sound of porcelain breaking. Both men sort of freeze. Zenix lets go and Gene stumbles back, and when he does, there's another cracking sound. There's a permanent scar of a crack going down his face originating from the left side of his forehead. It bleeds, but not in the way it should. The whole thing is so unnerving neither one talk about it and their fight is essentially over...

Sasha is a lot more like a wooden doll. Normally she's pretty reserved, but still has a lot of personality in her expression and the way she carries herself. But sometimes her movements are just a bit too stiff. There's a creak as she bends one of her joints, and her face gets stuck in an expression. This is especially annoying when it happens to her fingers while she's holding something and she just has to pray she doesn't drop her favorite mug directly into a pit of lava she happens to be walking past in the Nether.

I've already gone into my stuff with Laurance in my Garrance musings, but I have so fucking many more. Sometimes it isn't his full body that stops working. Sometimes Laurance's limbs or just his neck goes limp. He'll be in the middle of trying to rizz up someone and his arm just goes completely lifeless on their shoulder. He'll randomly stumble because he just loses feelings in his legs. One time someone thought he was asleep during a very important meeting because his head suddenly fell forward, and he just gave them a thumbs up like "No this happens, just pretend it's normal." Vylad SK Headcanons

Vylad hates to admit it, so he never does, but he almost gave into the calling the first time he was in the Overworld. He showed up very close to home, and had intimate knowledge of the security measures present at his families estate. They actually mapped out how easy it would be, and had a high success rate. It was only hearing that his brother had died that made Vylad break free from the calling.

Vylad knew Zenix was a Shadow Knight and deliberately helped to hide it from Garroth. He wanted to see if Garroth could handle Zenix because he still feared being around his brother. He feared that Garroth wouldn't be strong enough to stand against him if he somehow lost control.

After the fifteen years spent on his own completely aimless, Vylad sometimes forgets that he's a Shadow Knight. Like, it's just so... Normal. Someone with the ability to sense that shit gives him and odd look and they are just very confused because they can't use magicks?? Why are they-- Oh right, you're undead.

Vylad tends to keep his blood cold. Just easier to deal with. The first time he actively feels it get warm outside of the calling is after he's already defeated his temptation and can exist around his mother. When she reaches forward and places a hand on Vylad's cheek, his entire body becomes warm. Life returns to him all in a rush and it's a feeling he's sorely missed. Zenix SK Headcanons

If he hadn't gained a new lord shortly before becoming a Shadow Knight, Zenix's calling would have latched onto Garroth, the man he considered to be his mentor and the closest friend he has. Zenix scoffs at this idea now.

Zenix starts killing Shadow Knights instead of hunting his lord because the Shadow King realized that Zenix killing his lord meant Zenix killing Irene, and he wants to do that himself. So he deliberately persuaded Zenix to gain power by fighting other Shadow Knights instead. It backfired.

Zenix knows every single weakness a Shadow Knight can have both before and after answering the calling. He knows the most common symptoms, what happens to the weakest of them, how to manage the ups and downs. He could be a great life coach or therapist with this information, but the voices and bloodlust are a bit too loud to ignore so he just starts killing.

It's on sight between Zenix and Gene. Like he sees a guy who sort of looks like Gene and just instantly goes for the kill. Sasha once joked that his calling latched onto Gene and Zenix couldn't really disagree with her. It's certainly a similar feeling. Gene SK Headcanons

This is basically canon, but oh my Irene Gene has some awful takes on relationships, and this further ruined him as a Shadow Knight. Most Shadow Knights throw away their humanity when they answer the calling and never regain it. Gene is almost frighteningly human, always poking and prodding at people and being very reactive. He's always trying to push what is and isn't okay literally all the time and it usually isn't okay but he's literally immortal so what are they going to do? (god complex what?)

In spite of this, Gene does feel bad for what he did to Dante. He can never look his brother in the eyes, but if he could, he would have done things differently. Making everyone forget about him did more damage to Dante than he ever anticipated.

It was actually talks with Sasha that made Gene realize this. A lot of his time after gaining his immortality was spend serving the Shadow King largely because it always made things interesting. He was always pushing the world and those around him in new unknown directions that were fascinating to watch. Gene is endlessly enamored by humans but in the way a mad scientist is enamored with it's subjects.

It's why in spite of everything, he'll always have a soft spot for Sasha. Long talks with her are some of his fondest memories. He can't really decide if he's in love with her since his sense of love was skewed before the voice of the lord of darkness started making it actively worse, but he feels good things when he thinks about her. Sasha SK Headcanons

Sasha answered the calling, and doesn't often hold onto the idea of her humanity. She's not quite dead, not quite alive, and she knows she'll be this way forever. Unlike most Shadow Knights, especially the ones susceptible to the Shadow King's control, she's simply accepted her fate. He isn't able to promise her with something greater, and despite what some may think, she's actually the wild card the Shadow King is most afraid of because even he can't get a read on her.

Oddly enough, she starts to feel more human when she's captured in season 2. She gets a lot of chances to talk to different members of the group who are guarding her, and even if most of them don't trust her, she still feels something whenever they show her any sign of an emotion that isn't disgust. It makes her remember what's so fun about being human.

Similar to Vylad, Sasha feels a rush of warmth anytime she's in proximity to Kenmur, close to being alive without the influence of shadow magic. It's a feeling she doesn't want to get used to.

Sasha can never quite decide what she feels about Laurance. It's something akin to morbid curiosity. She can get into his head so easy, and she likes using him as a test of what can make a Shadow Knight tick. Though, sometimes it's a Laurance exclusive feature. Laurance SK Headcanons

A small part of Laurance really likes the extra power his Shadow Knight form gives in a twisted way. He doesn't like the emotions, but the physical effect is honestly great. It's an even stronger form than he would be capable of as a regular human that he can use to protect his demigod not girlfriend who keeps getting targeted by more insane magical bull shit.

During one of his times where he ran away because of the calling Laurance was alone in a cave and started cursing out his lord. Every vile word he could use to describe her came from his mouth, and while he regrets some of it, he will never admit the truth that he meant some of it too.

A lot of Laurance's resentment really just comes from the fact that he is severely not okay thanks to the calling and his experiences in the Nether. He never really had time to fully recover from that mentally, and everything keeps moving so damn fast, and he shamefully misses those slower days in the Nether when Sasha would sit outside his bars and talk to him, or when he and Vylad had conversations through prison walls. Laurance just desperately needs people to check up on him.

(Garrance Specific Headcanon) Once during a particularly sleep deprived conversation with Vylad while Vylad was calming him down from a calling induced panic attack, Laurance confessed to Vylad he was in love with Garroth and scared of getting him out of the Irene Dimension because he didn't want to risk the calling latching onto him. Even after Vylad very awkwardly assured him that's not how the calling works, Laurance is still paranoid.

The Calling is a contradiction. It's designed to be one because contradictions drive men to madness. Laurance's entire life from start to finish has been a series of contradictions, karmic imbalance and re-balance, and the fates seemingly toying with him for their own sick amusement. When he gets control of his body after running away and finds himself in the Nether, he has straight up had enough. The contradiction of wanting to be by his lords side and also needing to be as far away from her as possible basically broke Laurance back into being human?? Because he was never a proper Shadow Knight in the first place.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sunflower, chapter three

summary: After realisation hits her, Y/n gets quite the reaction when Spencer shows up at her door.

warnings: talking to a therapist, hyperfixation, unintentionally skipping meals, finding feelings overwhelming, going nonverbal, crying, hands hands hands, painting like Jackson Pollock, alternative way to communicate, handholding, hugging 

word count: 1876

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“-and he’s so nice and smart, and we even joked a bit about him not being able to cook, so he should come to eat breakfast with me,” you tried your best to get out past your schoolgirl giggle.

“So, you like this Spencer?” Anna asked with a smile.

“Yeah, he’s a really great neighbour.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Oh, no, I mean, sure he’s really pretty and nice and stuff, but I don’t like him like that,” you said franticly.

You didn’t like him like that, right? Did you like him as a person? Yes. Did you find him attractive? Well, of course! Who wouldn’t? but that didn’t mean you were in love with him or anything… oh my god, were you in love with him? Spencer Reid? Your incredibly handsome neighbour? Were you?

Looking down at your lap, you thought out loud, “how would I even know if that’s how I feel?”

You hadn’t really ever liked someone, well, of course, there was the obligatory celebrity crush, but never on anyone real. Sure, you had kissed a few people growing up, but that was always so awkward. The way Spencer made you feel, you hadn’t experienced that with anyone. It was overwhelming and it scared you. He was your neighbour, for god sake! You couldn’t just ask your neighbour out? He’d probably say no and then you’d have to coexist in all that awkwardness, and you didn’t want that. If your next-door neighbour suddenly couldn’t stand being near you anymore, then you’d have to move, you definitely didn’t want that, you really liked your new place, it was so comforting and quiet.

“I, um, he’s just a friend, not even, he’s just my next-door neighbour. Nothing more,” you said less so to your therapist and more just in a way to convince yourself.

Your movements almost looked like you were in a fight with the canvas, as you stood there, splattering dark tones onto the already finished painting.

When you had gotten home after your meeting with Anna, that painting, the one over your couch, the one Spencer had been so fixated on, had been staring at you. You used to love the calming waves of its nature motif, but today, something had changed. Every time you saw it out the corner of your eye it stung. All you could see was him. His awestruck face starring at it.

So now, here you were. Loud alt-rock blasting and covering up the once beautiful landscape.

Deep down you knew that altering this thing he so clearly liked wouldn’t change the realization you had earlier. You liked Spencer. You couldn’t like him, but you did anyway.

Tearing your eyes away from your work for the first time in ages, you saw that the sun had gone down. You hadn’t even eaten dinner. Your body had gone almost completely numb, not letting you feel the signs of hunger and too focused on the task at hand to take a moment to register.

The bass of the song playing grew, but after a moment, it almost sounded like your name was being called. Wait, that wasn’t coming from the song. You turned the volume down a bit to listen.

Someone was knocking on your door. Who was knocking on late at night? You couldn’t recall any plans you had tonight with Stevie, so whom could it be?

“Y/n?” a voice called, muffled from behind the door.

Your body tensed up. Fuck. It was Spencer. Why on earth was he here? God, just get it together, Y/n, just go open the door. Move your body, please.

“Are you alright?”

Taking a few deep breaths, then a quick nod, you swiftly opened the door.

Arm raised, amidst knocking, there he stood. The sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled all the way up to his elbows, revealing his surprisingly toned forearms. The sight of him almost made you lose your train of thought.

“Spencer,” you breathed out, “what, um, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, but your music was kinda loud, not that it was bothering me or anything, it’s not that, I just, um, it made me slightly worried, that maybe there was something wrong?” he stammered, then looked down at the ground, “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

God, if it wasn’t clicking before, seeing him here now, of course, you liked him. Fuck, why did you have to like him?

Looking up at you again, worry-filled his eyes, “oh no, I truly am really sorry that I bothered you. Please don’t cry.”

Reaching up to feel your cheek, it was indeed wet. When did that happen? “I, um, I’m fine,” your voice shook, trying to calm him, though not very convincingly.

“Y/n,” he breathed out, “I really am sorry. I don’t care that your music was loud, really, turn it up more if you’d like.”

The sound of his voice did nothing to stop the steady flow coming from your eyes.

Taking a step inside, he grasped your hand in his, the feeling making you shut your eyes. “What do you need?” he whispered in a soothing voice. “Do you want me to leave or is it not a good idea for you to be alone right now?”

Parting your lips to answer, no sound escaped them, only a shaky breath. Closing and opening your mouth a few times, seeing if it just needed to be warmed up, but no. Nothing.

Squeezing Spencer’s hand tighter, you opened your flickering eyes. Running his thumb over your shaky knuckles, he lowered his head a bit to be at your level and repeated his question, “do you want me to go?”

No, of course, you didn’t want him to go. It was bittersweet, but you didn’t want him to leave, even if his presence only hurt you. So, you shook your head.

He turned to close the door behind him, your arm followed him as he never let go of your hand.

Casting your vision up towards your ceiling, you heard his voice again, “do you wanna sit down?”

Answering his question with another squeeze, he gently dragged you over to your couch, using both of his hands on you to help you sit down.

Situated beside you, his thumb never ceasing its calming patterns on the back of your hand, “what can I do?”

Opening your mouth to speak again, you didn’t need to try for that long to know it was abundantly clear no sound was going to escape your lips, so instead, you waved your free hand in front of you, bringing it up to tap your throat a few times, all the while keeping your gaze anywhere but on him.

“Okay,” it came out more like a whisper, “that’s okay, Y/n.”

Noticing your sketchpad on the coffee table, you pointed to it. Him being a genius and all, he got the message immediately and handed it to you.

Taking the pencil out that you had stuck down the spine, you flipped it open with your free hand, finding an empty page.

I’m sorry.

Taking a pause, you let him read your wobbly handwriting, with an inhale of breath he replied, a bit of guilt tinging his voice, “don’t be, please. I feel terrible about bothering you. I’m so, so sorry.”

Sometimes this just happens, talking becomes really hard.

Not saying anything, he just held on tighter to your hand with a sense of understanding.

Taking a second to think about what you needed in that moment, your eyes fell to your interlocked fingers. His hand looked so big compared to yours. You turned them slightly to get a better view of it. Piano fingers, as you’d always called them, long, thin, and elegant. The back of his hand didn’t just have one or two prominent veins popping out, but it was more akin to the way a windowpane looked when the rains pouring down and leaving streaks of water, dancing down the glass. Fuck, they were pretty. Just like the rest of him. They were like art.

Just then, an idea struck you. Adjusting the sketchbook in your lap, you started to draw them, eyes flickering from the page and up to glance at his hold on you.

He didn’t move a muscle, just sat there, watching you, in silence.

After a while, you finished the doddle. Leaning back against the couch, you closed your eyes and tried to let your body relax.

Deep breath in, and out. Rinse and repeat.

Peeking out one eye, you looked up at the man beside you, every bit of his attention glued on you. Turning your almost vertical body to him, tugging your feet up, you stared at him, taking your time to notice every little detail of his face.

He shifted his body to mirror yours, picking your hand up with both of his, he brought it up in front of his face.

Concentrating as hard as you could, you tried to say something, anything. Audible breaths turned into quiet moans and then finally into something resembling a word in the English language. It was just a whisper, gravely and unclear, but you did it.

“Hi.”

He let out a sigh of relief, visibly losing the weight on his shoulders, “hi,” he choked out.

“Hi,” you echoed, the exhaustion suddenly hitting you at once. “That was fast. It usually takes a lot longer to come back…”

A shaky breath escaped Spencer’s lips as he let his eyes squeeze shut. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he gave it a small peck as a tear rolled down his cheek. Raising your free hand to wipe it away, you whispered, “I’m okay, this was actually pretty tame comparatively. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

His bottom lip quivered, “no, it’s-, I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay,” opening his big misty eyes, he asked, “can I give you a hug?”

Nodding in response, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. You nestled your head into his shirt, breathing in his scent, and feeling his fingers spread out, trying to cover as much of your body as possible.

Feeling new tears well up in your eyes, you tried not to enjoy the comforting moment too much. So, this is what it feels like when people say they’ve got it bad. Fuck, you liked him. You really liked him. What the fuck were you gonna do?

Pulling away, you sniffled, “what time is it?”

Looking down at the silver watch on his wrist, “11:54.”

He then looked back at you, holding your gaze for what felt like ages, until you broke it, “I should properly head off to bed…”

“Yeah,” he agreed slowly, “I’ll go.”

And with that, you both stood up and walked towards the door. Opening it, he stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“Hey, do you maybe wanna come over for a cup of tea tomorrow morning? Just so that I can be sure you made it through the night okay.”

Biting your lip to hide the small smile his request triggered, you answered sleepily, “sure.”

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he offered a small smile, “goodnight, Y/n.”

“Night, Spencer.”

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[hotmessmaxpress]

Sliding into your DMs for the OF au 🫡 Soooo, they obviously like each other physically. But can they communicate about what they like in bed? Like, are there things that maybe especially Marc does or doesn't feel comfortable doing (because of his job and stuff) and then they talk about it and Vale is all caring and stuff and Marc feels at home with him?

Vale calls him a slut once in bed.

It’s clearly directly out of some porno Vale has seen (Vale has decades of porn-watching under his belt, something that is slightly intimidating and also hilarious to Marc). He’s obviously trying to be sexy; Marc does love it when Vale is dirty and runs his mouth, so it’s not necessarily surprising that they have arrived at this point.

It’s decidedly un-sexy to Marc, though.

He jerks his head back away from where Vale is kissing him, and inadvertently smacks his head against the headboard. 

“Ow! Fuck!” he gasps, grabbing the back of his head. 

Vale hisses in sympathy, gently cradling Marc’s face in his hands and turning his head to look at him. He clearly doesn’t find any blood (Marc didn’t hit himself that hard) but the moment is still broken. Marc winces as Vale adjusts so he’s sitting beside Marc, and he continues checking him over. 

“What happened?” he asks.  

Marc winces.

“Please don’t call me names.”

Vale’s eyes widen, and Marc can tell he’s immediately feeling guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, immediately.

Marc tucks himself against Vale. He needs to be touching him when they have this conversation, and he’d prefer not to have to look his boyfriend in the eye as he admits these things.

“I’ve only ever been called a slut and a whore by people who are angry with me or being creepy. Mostly it’s from men who try to get me to do things and get rejected– then they call me a whore or other mean names. I don’t like it. I don’t want you to ever call me that.”

Vale rubs Marc’s arm, holding him close, and presses a kiss to his head. 

“Sorry,” Marc says as an afterthought, suddenly overcome with the feeling that he might be disappointing Vale. Maybe he could get used to it, he thinks, if it would make Vale happy. He opens his mouth to voice the thought but Vale speaks first. 

“Thank you for telling me. I won’t ever call you that again, amore. Is there anything else you don’t want me to say? Or anything you want me to say?”

Marc is quiet for a moment. 

“I like it when you tell me nice things. I like it when you call me pretty and tell me I’m perfect. I like to be good for you. I like it when you say I’m yours.”

He truly just wants to be a good boy for Vale. He hopes that Vale won’t be disappointed with him.

He feels him smile against his hair. 

“You are a good boy for me,” Vale says. “You’re beautiful. You’re perfect.”

He kisses his forehead again, and Marc wiggles closer in satisfaction. 

“Thank you,” he says, quietly. 

“You’re mine,” Vale says. “It’s my job to keep you happy.”

Marc finally looks up at Vale again, and Vale presses a kiss to his lips. 

The moment that was ruined earlier picks up again, and pretty soon Marc has Vale on his back and his dick down his throat.

He looks down Vale’s skinny torso to meet his eyes, where his head is thrown back against a pillow. 

“Fuck, Marc,” Vale groans. 

Marc bobs his head, using his hands to pump the base of Vale’s cock that he isn’t reaching with his mouth. He swallows as much as he can around Vale’s cock, willing his gag reflex down. Marc doesn’t actually have that much experience with blowjobs; he is actually less experienced in in-person sex than Vale is. 

“You’re so perfect. I love your perfect little throat. You’re choking on me and you’re still doing so well,” Vale encourages. 

The praise goes straight to Marc’s cock, and he whines around Vale and rocks his hips against the bed. Vale seems to take notice of how he’s affecting Marc, and he continues to run his mouth. 

“Look at you, humping the mattress. Are you going to get off on sucking me off? You’re so perfect for me,” he coos. “Such a sexy, beautiful boy. So many men have seen you, but only I get to watch you like this. I’m the only one who gets to see your perfect mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Marc whines and picks up the pace. He accidentally takes Vale in too deep, and pulls off with a choked little gag. He looks up at Vale with watery eyes. 

He bows his head to suck Vale’s cock again, but Vale stops him with a hand on his cheek. 

“You are so beautiful,” he says, looking directly into Marc's eyes. It makes Marc want to cry a little bit, seeing how earnest Vale is.

Marc thrusts his hips against the bed again, and Vale laughs. He gently guides Marc’s mouth back onto his cock, and Marc resumes sucking with renewed vigor.

Vale moves his hand, and Marc grips his wrist. He guides Vale’s hand to the back of his head, and groans as Vale tangles his fingers in his hair. 

Marc can’t control his thrusts against the bed. His cock is too hard, and the praise from Vale has drained the brains right out of him. He’s close, and he whines and picks up the pace. 

At this point he’s basically holding Vale in his mouth while he focuses on his own release.

“That’s it. Come for me, Marc. Rub yourself off. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.”

Marc thrusts one, two, three more times before he’s shooting cum across the bedsheets with a cry. 

He sucks Vale’s cock deep into his throat, and Vale holds Marc’s head in place as he shoots his own cum down Marc’s throat. Marc feels Vale’s cock pulse as he comes, and he groans and sucks him through it. 

Marc crawls his way back up the bed, flopping against Vale.

“Okay?” he asks, voice rough from Vale’s cock in his throat. 

“Perfect,” Vale says gently, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Conformity is Anywhere

TW: SA (I didn't let that fucker get too far as the bartender took out the trash), biphobia, bisexual angst

A/N: The bar is completely fictional. It just sounds so cool to me. Also, there's a happy ending!

Summary: Eddie struggles with the fact that conformity can belong to any group. Does he belong anywhere?

Eddie Munson was a virgin. That was a fact that was never going to change. He knew it. He had been to Indie a couple of times to meet both men and women. His luck was always rotten. It would start off great with guys, at first, until he told them he was bisexual. He would get a few of people saying things that actually hurt a lot.

"Oh, honey, that's not a thing."

"You're just confused."

"You're clearly trying to experiment. I've been in that situation. I do not want to do that again."

"You're clearly gay."

The last part confused him, more than hurt him because the guy had given him a once over. He dressed gay? How in the fuck is a bisexual supposed to dress? Maybe it was the hanky in his back pocket. He hadn't even known about the hanky code, and he did it because James Hetfield wore a hanky. Also, why the fuck can't bisexuals use the hanky code? Eddie had decided not to go back for a while because it really sucked that even the community you're supposed to feel safe with doesn't even like who you are. He had long since pushed the bar to the back of his mind, especially after everything during spring break.

He was a free man, no longer wanted for murder. Though the townsfolk wouldn't do anything to get arrested for, that didn't stop them from giving him glares, wishing he was dead or shielding their children from him. It was also difficult to buy anything in town as they did have the right to refuse service, so Eddie depended on his friends buying him things. He hated it. He never felt more like a mooch.

He didn't think about the bar at all until Robin and Steve came out to him. He had been happier to hear that he wasn't alone in being queer especially knowing that he and Steve were the same. Part of it was also because he had a crush on the guy, but it wasn't the main reason. He had yet to meet another bisexual. It was thrilling, and he didn't want to lose that. He was sure he was never going to tell Steve about his crush. Just because they're both bisexual and Eddie likes him doesn't mean that Steve should or would like him back.

"I know of someone who wants to go to a gay bar," Robin had said to Eddie and Steve, wiggling her eyebrows at Steve. "They heard there's a good one in Indie that used to be a bookstore."

"It's still technically also a bookstore. They still sell books. How'd they hear about it?" Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow at Steve as he had assumed that's who she was talking about.

"From their cousin's friend's older brother's roommate," Robin said. "Did I get that right? Yes, yes, I did."

"Have you been there, Eddie?" Steve asked.

"A few times," Eddie shrugged, looking into his drink. "Struck out every time."

"Well, I mean, it wouldn't be just to hook up. It would be nice to know that there were more people like us," Steve said with a shrug.

"Don't get your hopes up there, Stevie," Eddie scoffed.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"I mean, there are gays and lesbians, of course, but I only went there a few times, and I hadn't met another until I started getting to know you, Steve. I mean, there could have been some there, but I didn't talk to everyone, and I didn't stay long enough to find out," Eddie said. "I did what do best, I ran away from a difficult situation."

"You make it sound like they're not very inclusive of bisexuals," Robin said with a raised eyebrow.

"The ones I met weren't, but maybe we just need to meet the right people, so let's give it another try, shall we?" Eddie asked, with a smile on his face.

"That's the spirit. After all, there are assholes in every group, right?" Robin said. "We just have to dig to get to the gooey center."

"Ew, Robin."

The next weekend came quickly. Eddie pulled up to Steve’s house, where everyone would be meeting, to find a redhead waiting with them. Eddie jumped out to greet them.

"Who's this then?" Eddie asked with a grin.

"Eddie, this is Vickie Fisher. . .she's my girlfriend," Robin said with a smile.

"So, you're definitely not going there to hook up," Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"No, definitely not," Vickie said. "Um, Robin said that it's okay that it's okay if I tell you that I'm bisexual."

Eddie hollered and clapped his hands.

"May I hug you and spin you around? I'm sorry, I don't get to meet many bisexuals," Eddie said.

"Okay," Vickie said, laughing.

Eddie grinned as he hugged her, picked her up, and spun her around. Vickie giggled. He set her gently on the ground.

"I'm sorry if you think I'm too weird now," Eddie said.

"Please, I like weird," Vickie said, scoffing and burying her nose into Robin's neck. "Obviously."

Eddie cooed at them while Robin rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Well, at least, I'm not obsessed with Scooby-Doo," Robin said affectionately while Eddie gasped.

"You too, Gingersnap?" Eddie asked, clutching his chest and Vickie giggled.

"That's what my dad calls me, and yes, I'm totally obsessed with Scooby-Doo," Vickie said.

"Man, it must be a bisexual thing because Steve’s obsessed with it too," Robin said. "He thinks that Fred and Shaggy are bisexual. Also, they've secretly hooked up."

"It's not obsession. I just think that it's a very real possibility," Steve said.

"Yes!" Eddie said, shaking Steve’s shoulders. "Shaggy has definitely gotten high with Fred and taken him in the back of the Mystery Machine."

Eddie was rubbing Steve’s shoulders while Steve’s cheeks reddened. Eddie clapped his hands together, rubbing them, while Vickie and Robin shared a look, giggling.

"What?"

"You know, it's a children cartoon," Robin said. "It's for children."

"Don't worry, guys, I'll turn her to the dark side," Vickie said. "I can definitely convince her that Velma's a lesbian."

"Hey, what's in that container?" Eddie asked, finally noticing what was in Vickie's hand.

"Oh, I made gingersnaps for the ride up there," she replied with a giggle, and Eddie laughed.

Eddie had forgotten how cozy it was inside the bar, how comfortable it felt. There was still room to dance on the lower floor, and on the upper floor were shelves lined with books. Sofas also lined the upper floors. On the lower floor, there was a bar in the very back, and Eddie grinned when he saw his favorite bartender. He had been the one who had been witness to his many failures. Though Eddie hadn't been back in a few months, he made sure to call Teddy every once in a while. Yes, his name was Teddy. He would jokingly call him his twin due to the fact that Teddy was quite a bit taller than him with the prettiest blue eyes of anyone he had ever seen. He laughed when Teddy jumped over the bar to wrap Eddie in a hug. There was a mirror behind the bar, and Eddie could have sworn that he saw Steve scowling at Teddy, his arms crossed. Eddie shook his head and pulled away from Teddy, laughing.

After Eddie caught up with Teddy, he turned around to find that everyone had split up. Robin and Vickie had gone upstairs to browse the bookshelves. Meanwhile, Steve was flirting with a guy near the dance floor. Eddie cursed his own stupidity. Of course, Steve was going to find someone here. Eddie sighed and ordered himself a drink, plopping down at the bar.

"A pretty boy like yourself shouldn't look so sad. It should be illegal," a voice from beside him said.

Eddie looked over and saw a blond guy leaning against the bar next to him. He was pretty with golden hazel eyes, and freckles spread across the bridge of his nose. He had a square jaw like Steve’s but his smile reminded him of Chrissy. His hair was longer than Steve’s, just barely, though. There was something in his eye, though, that made him weary.

"Me? Pretty boy?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, you. My name's Roger," the handsome man said. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Are you blind?" Eddie asked.

"No."

"Then you can clearly see that I have a drink," Eddie said and sighed. "But you're welcome to sit down and chat if that's what you're looking for."

"A chance to chat with a handsome man," Roger purred. "What else would I be looking for?"

"What's your angle here, Roger? If that is, in fact, your real name," he replied.

"I know who you are," Roger whispered eagerly.

"Okay. Here we go," he said, rubbing his face and taking a swig of his beer.

"No, you didn't deserve to be hunted down like that, Eddie," Roger said. "You were the obvious choice. Everyone else was too stupid to think about anything else."

"You really believe that," Eddie stated.

"Of course," Roger said with a grin.

There was something that didn't quite meet Roger's eyes when he smiled, but maybe it was the beer talking or the fact that Eddie was frustrated that the one he wanted to be sitting here beside him wasn't here. Maybe Eddie was just trying to look for the bad in people like the way people looked for in him. He relaxed and started to converse with Roger. A couple more beers in, and Eddie couldn't help but talk about Chrissy. How pretty she looked when she smiled and how he wished he could have seen her live to be happy even if it wasn't with him. Even if it wasn't with him, he would have given anything for her to be happy. He talked with Roger about how special she was.

"Maybe she was the exception," Roger said.

"What?" Eddie asked, startled.

"I said maybe she was the exception to your rule, Eddie," Roger said coyly. "Maybe I could fuck it out of you. The confusion. Is that what you did first? Did you fuck them first? I want to be next, Eddie. Take me next, Eddie. Please, Eddie."

The realization nearly sobered him up. Roger didn't think he was innocent. He wanted to be Eddie's next victim. Roger pressed his hand against the inside of Eddie's thigh. He jumped back, spilling his beer. He could feel the bile rising to his throat. Eddie jumped off the stool, knocked it to the ground, and ran from Roger. He brushed past Steve, Vickie, and Robin as he ran out the front door. He ran into the alley and began puking his guts out. Suddenly, he felt a hand pressed to his back, and he reacted. He turned around, grabbed the person, and slammed them against the wall.

"Well, this is familiar," Steve said sarcastically and then softened his voice. "Eddie, are you okay?"

Eddie started sobbing and collapsed against Steve, crying into his neck. They ended up both collapsing to the ground with Eddie straddling Steve’s knees. Steve wrapped his arms around him and held onto him tightly. Once Eddie's sobs subsided a little bit, Steve pulled back, cupping Eddie's face. He leaned his forehead against Eddie's.

"What happened?"

Eddie whimpered and told him about Roger.

"I don't want to disappear, Steve. I don't want who I am to disappear. I know who I am. I'm not a monster, Steve. I'm not a freak. Just because they can't understand. . .I know who am I, Steve. I know, Steve, and they can't. . .I won't let them take that away from me. Hawkins tried to make me disappear, tried to swallow me up, and tried to make me conform to their ideals of what a good man should be, but I'm a good man, aren't I? I know I've made mistakes, but I don't think I've ever intentionally tried to hurt someone. I would never do to Chrissy. . .what that bastard did to her. I know what I am, Steve, and I know what I want. Why does that make me a bad person? I won't let them take that away from me because they can't understand it, I won't!" Eddie sobbed and yelled, his fists clutching Steve’s shirt. "And they can't fuck it out of me either. I'm not a monster like him."

"I won't let them take it away from you either. You're not a monster. And Eddie, Roger is a psychopath who just so happens to be queer. Being bisexual isn't wrong. Just like being gay or being a lesbian isn't either. You and I are bisexual. No one is going to erase us. No one," Steve promised, his hands trembling and his voice shaking. "This is probably a bad time, but . . . Eddie, I love you."

"I love you too, Steve," Eddie said, sniffling. "You know, I don't think there's a bad time to tell someone you love them."

"You know that I mean, like, romantically, right?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, I got that. Me too," Eddie said.

"Is it alright if I kiss you?"

"Is it alright if I say that I want to wait until my mouth no longer tastes like tears and vomit?"

"Yeah, come on, we should get to the hotel," Steve said and picked him up.

"Weee!" Eddie exclaimed, and Steve promptly dropped him on his feet as they stood up.

Steve grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the alleyway. Robin and Vickie were at the very end. Their eyes were filled with tears.

"We tried to get far away, but your voice carried and we -," Robin began.

"You tried not to listen?" Eddie asked. "Don't worry yourself, Buckley."

"Eddie? Can I give you a hug?" Vickie asked.

"Bring it in, Gingersnap," Eddie said.

Vickie threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Eddie grabbed Steve and pulled him into the hug, causing Vickie to laugh. She made grabby hands at Robin.

"This feels more like a bisexual group hug to me," Robin said cheekily.

"You're supporting your bisexual girlfriend by joining in," Vickie said.

"Fair point," Robin said as she threw herself at them.

They stayed like that for a while, surrounding Eddie in a group hug. It was nice, and Eddie felt this wave of affection for this little group. He remembered when he first moved here to live with Wayne, and for the longest time, he didn't think he would ever make friends until he met Gareth, and soon, the others started to fall into place. He hadn't felt like he had belonged until he met them, especially when they created the band. The puzzles continued to fall into place when he created Hellfire, where more pieces were added when Dustin and the others joined. For a brief, shining moment, he thought he found another piece in Chrissy, but it had been lost as soon as it had been found. Right here, right now, he felt like all the pieces had come together. Right in the middle, though, were empty places for his mother and Chrissy. . .never to be refilled. He was as whole as he could be, and he was happy.

"Let's take a picture," Vicki squealed as she pulled out a Polaroid camera from her bag. "Robin, baby, you have pretty long arms."

"You want to commemorate me getting assaulted by a potential serial killer?" Eddie asked. "Speaking of that, what happened with that?"

"Oh, Teddy said he would take care of it," Steve said. "Uh, is bartending his only job?"

"Nope."

"Are you going to tell me what his other job is?" Steve asked.

"Nope!" Eddie exclaimed and paused, rolling his eyes. "Only because I don't know what it is and I'm too afraid to ask. Anywho, Gingersnap, you wanted to remember this moment?"

"I wanted us to remember the fact that you find kinship with all of us tonight, and honestly, so did I. I want us to remember this moment because it's where we all realized that we don't have to conform to anyone's definition of who they think we are," Vickie said. "Whether we're bisexual, gay, or lesbian or anything else that we want to be in this world that I can't think of yet."

"I love you guys," Eddie said fondly. "Robin, Vickie, I'm sorry, but it's strictly platonic."

Robin rolled her eyes, raised the camera, and stuck out her tongue. Vickie peered around, hand on one of Robin's hips. Eddie grinned lovingly at Steve and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. Robin took the picture.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

What Can You Do?

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

After a break last week, here we are again, with a new fic. For the Switch AU, in case you couldn't tell XD The boys are still in IRIS, so there's not much to be said for the summary. Anti tries to think of ways out, while JJ and Schneep have to undergo more tests. JJ in particular is having a bad time, as IRIS tries to learn more about his magic and what it is capable of. And yeah. Read on to learn more. Hope you enjoy!

More of This AU | | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Read on AO3 under CrystalNinjaPhoenix

“I’m not your fucking lab rat. You got that?” Anti glared up into the camera in the corner of the room. “I know you’re watching. Someone has to monitor this footage. You hear me? I’m not a lab rat.”

The camera didn’t answer, of course. Anti very much doubted there was any way for IRIS to communicate with him while he was in this room. Short of coming in themselves. And after thinking about that, he was glad they didn’t have a microphone or something in here. He was already being watched, which he hated. If some faceless voice from a speaker tried to order him around, he would... He wasn’t sure what he would do. But it would definitely involve destruction of property.

He sighed, and climbed down from the chair he’d been standing on. He dragged it over to the base of the camera so he could get right up in its stupid lens. Now, he left it there. Not worth dragging back over unless he had to. He sat down in the second chair instead. This was the one that the IRIS scientist usually sat in when they came in, and he took some satisfaction in claiming it for himself.

Now... to think some more.

He and Marvin had been used to test something. He was sure of it. His guess was that the weird stone tablet gave off some energy or something, and IRIS wanted to see how it would react with people. Why him and Marvin specifically, though? He understood why Schneep wasn’t there, he was no doubt having his own experiments done on him, and the same for JJ. But why wasn’t Jackie involved? Maybe they only had two chairs. He chuckled at the thought, then returned to seriously trying to figure it out.

Marvin’s eyes had started to bleed... like what Distorter did to people. And Anti had felt dizzy and disconnected from everything, it was also pretty similar to what Distorter could do. Did that stone tablet produce similar reactions? So... did IRIS choose him and Marvin because they were vulnerable to Distorter? But again, why not include Jackie? The guy had been kidnapped by that monster for nine fucking months. 

Or maybe it had to do with that Assessment thing. Marvin mentioned they gave it to him. Maybe something in his results meant IRIS was okay with using him as a test subject? Maybe they gave it to Jackie but he didn’t get the right results?

Anti rubbed his eyes. So much to think about. He wasn’t sure that figuring out what IRIS planned for them would help them escape. But there wasn’t much he could do in here other than wonder about that.

Alright. He knew where he, Marvin, and Jackie were being kept. Schneep and JJ would probably be on a lower floor. If he could just figure out where they were, they could make a run for it. But how could they do that?

After thinking for a while, Anti came to a conclusion. But it wasn’t one he liked. If they were going to escape, they had to wait for the right moment. He didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to let IRIS do whatever they wanted to him, or stand by while they fucked with his friends. He wanted to punch every single one of them in their stupid faces every time he saw them. But clearly, fighting wouldn’t get them anywhere. He had to be careful about this. Save his energy for the moment it counted.

He groaned out loud. Playing nice with people like IRIS wasn’t in his nature. But who knows? Maybe if he stops causing so much trouble, they’ll lower their guard. But he shouldn’t be totally cooperative all of a sudden, that’d be suspicious. God. Just planning what to do was hard. If only he could find some way to keep in contact with Marvin and Jackie.

His eyes drifted back to the camera. That thing... it was so weird. It looked super old-fashioned, with its bulky rectangular body, but the actual lens was pretty high-quality. He should know; when he decided to start using a facecam for his YouTube channel he went super in-depth on his research, wanting to find the best camera for the cheapest price. The material of the camera body, meanwhile, was weird. It looked like it was mostly made of plastic. More than it should be. Usually, electronics might have a plastic covering for decoration, or in places where people interacted, like keyboards, but all the important parts were metal. That wasn’t the case for this IRIS camera. Except for the lens, it all seemed plastic. Even the screws, which you usually really didn’t want to be plastic, in case they snapped.

Maybe it wasn’t plastic. Maybe it was some other material. Something extremely durable. When they had that tripod in the room, the camera was able to survive his attacks in a way that plastic wouldn’t. It was also very stiff and hard to move. The camera in the corner was designed to move on a swivel—some sort of ball joint, he was guessing—but in the past, when he threw that bouncy ball at it, it wasn’t affected. Maybe there was a lock or something...

“Ah fuck, you guys didn’t let me get my bouncy ball!” Anti suddenly gasped. They made him move rooms, and the ball was left behind in the last one. “You bastards! Giving me something to entertain myself with, then taking it away!” He slumped further into the chair. “I mean... it was really patronizing. But still.”

But back to his thoughts. Maybe... maybe there was a way to make the camera swivel. If he could fiddle around with it, maybe there was something he could do. There had to be a small gap where the body of the camera met the stick part it was hanging from. Maybe he could... jam something in there... or something...

phw.Ho yisena l te

Anti tensed. He stood up and looked around the room. “Whisper?” he breathed.

He’d almost forgotten about them. That weird voice who came to him before. They said he was special. They were familiar with IRIS and Distorter. And now... they were back.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Anti whispered.

But there was no response. Maybe they were just... passing through.

‘Help is on the way,’ they’d said. That was a relief to hear. But Anti couldn’t afford to relax. He didn’t know when that help would be coming. He didn’t know if they would succeed. He had to keep planning on his own. Always good to have a backup.

If he could jam the camera, he could create a blind spot. A blind spot to do... something.

It was a basic outline, but he would have so much time to make it better. After all, what else could he do in here?

Anti sighed. He wondered how the others were faring...

———————

JJ wasn’t sure how much time had passed. There was no way to tell in this cell. There was nothing at all. The white walls were beginning to drive him a little crazy. He remembered reading about a form of torture, during a late-night internet binge, where someone is kept in an all-white room and deprived of all other sensations in order to make them lose their personal identity. This cell was not near that level, but the longer he was here, the more he could understand it. He didn’t quite feel like a person while stuck in this bland, silent space.

They’d sent him six meals. Did that mean two days had passed? Or maybe three? Six days, even? His internal clock was messed up.

He hadn’t been stuck in the room all the time. No, he almost wished that was the case. They’d taken him out three times. They put those strange magic-muffling cuffs on him and took him down to that octagonal room, that room with the beds where they strapped him down and stared at him. Nothing much has happened the first time with the scanner. The second time occurred two meals later, and they’d done something similar. It was the strangest thing. His magic had reacted slightly, rising up without him willing it. The mufflers had immediately shocked him for the reaction, even though there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Something IRIS did had called his magic forth, and he had no control over it.

He could only lie there and try to ignore the pain and the staring eyes that watched his suffering and did nothing to stop it.

The third time was two meals after that. They took him to that room again, put him on a bed again, and tried something else. The muffling cuffs had been exchanged for a different pair, made out of a clear material instead of a white one. They did that same thing again. Clamped a cuff down on his arm and fiddled with the connected machine until his magic started to rise up in response. This time, the clear cuffs began to light up with the blue glow of his power. But they didn’t shock him right away. He was perfectly aware as he saw that blue glowing magic of his travel down a clear tube connected to the cuffs and into a small box. IRIS was... they were taking his power.

He’d panicked then, instinctively trying to cast a spell—maybe he could freeze the cuffs, maybe he could cut through the tube—! But the cuffs flowed a brighter blue as he started to draw some more magic out, and then they shocked him.

Dr. Day was there. She was there for every test. For that one, she finally spoke to him again instead of the other doctors in the room. “Please do not try summoning your anomalous abilities, subject,” she’d said. “If the energy level rises above acceptable limits, the syphons are designed to stop that, similar to the mufflers.”

He couldn’t say anything back, of course. His hands were cuffed. And he didn��t want to hurt his throat trying to talk to her. It wasn’t worth the pain for what little an effect it would have.

 So he had to stay there. Silent. Listening to them talk around him. They removed the clear cuffs after a while and took away the box they were connected to. Dr. Day mentioned a bunch of different types of tests—heat reaction test, irritation test, chemical test, all sorts of tests that JJ had never heard of—that they would do on the box of magic. Then they took him back to the cell. He felt dizzy after that, and his body was filled with a shaky kind of fatigue. They’d taken some of his magic. And these were the consequences. He’d fallen into the bed and fell asleep almost right away.

Even now, hours later, after a nap and a meal, he was still thinking about that. They took his magic. His mind kept circling around that single idea. They took his magic. They took his magic.

Why did it bother him so much? JJ really thought about it. Would he be this disturbed if they’d drawn blood? No. What if they cut his hair for a sample? Creepy, but still no. Creepier than drawing blood in his mind, which was fascinating to think about but not the point. The point was that he felt violated by what they’d done. It was like they’d opened up his mind to look at what was inside—something that they might also be able to do, who knew at this point? His magic was a key part of who he was, more so than any other physical part of his body. And they’d just taken it. Even though it would recharge, even though he knew he could get it back even though he’d already recovered from the side effects, he still felt its loss.

...what were they going to do with it? What were they going to do with him?

But soon, something happened to distract him from the hole in his chest. The door to the cell opened again. JJ looked up, slightly confused. He thought there’d been a pattern established. They came to get him every two meals. But only one meal had passed. Yet here Dr. Day and the guards were, with those muffling cuffs in hand. “Alright, subject,” she said.

Jameson stood up from the bed and held out his hands. As before, the guards snapped the cuffs on and undid the ankle cuff. He considered trying to make a run for it, but the guard was holding the cuffs’ connected box firmly—JJ was pretty sure that there was a battery in there—and he knew he wasn’t strong enough to force his way past these guards anyway. So he tamped down the urge and followed the guards quietly.

They walked down the hallway in the opposite direction they usually went. So they weren’t heading to that octagonal room. Part of JJ was relieved about that, but the relief didn’t last long. It was overpowered by the part of him that was afraid. Where were they taking him? To some other room, probably. A room meant for a different purpose. But what purpose? Was it going to happen now? Were they going to... operate on him? He almost threw up from fear just thinking about it.

They went around a corner, and then another, and walked towards a set of elevator doors at the end of the hallway. As they waited for it to arrive, JJ went over the layout in his head. So this floor was a U shape, assuming that the other doors lining the halls only led to more rooms and not more corridors. At one end of the U was the octagonal room, at the other end was the elevator. 

Then the doors opened and they went inside. Jameson glanced at the elevator buttons. A guard quickly stepped into his line of sight, blocking the buttons—but they didn’t move fast enough. JJ saw five buttons and he saw Dr. Day press the second from the bottom. A five-story building, then. Was JJ’s cell on the bottom floor? Or maybe the top floor? Which one would be more difficult to escape from?

The elevator arrived. The hallway that extended before them was entirely made of featureless metal. The guards pulled him down to a set of double-doors, which slid open as they approached. Dr. Day continued down the hallway while the guards went through the doors. There was a small room beyond, empty except for another set of doors right across.

The guards stopped in this small room. One took something off his belt—a ring of clear plastic. No, it’s another cuff. Like those syphons. JJ tensed, but there’s nowhere to run. He froze, staying completely still as one of the guards grabbed his arm and yanked it upwards. The other snapped the cuff around his wrist and removed the mufflers. Then the second set of doors in the room opened. The guards stayed still. JJ stared at them. One of them reached out and nudged him forwards. Getting the hint, JJ hurried through the doors. The guards stayed where they were, and the doors slid shut, separating him from them.

He was now in a small room, made of all metal except for a glass window. Through the window he could see Dr. Day and the other scientist types. There was also a camera in each corner of the room. He was being watched from all angles. A shiver ran down his spine. To distract himself, he looked down at the cuff on his wrist. There was a part of it  that bulged outward, and he could see a black box inside. A battery, maybe?

“Hello, subject.” Dr. Day’s voice came from one of the corners, tinny and echoey even in such a small space.

JJ frowned. This high-tech company couldn’t get better speakers? 

“Today we are testing your abilities,” Dr. Day continued. “If you would please turn to your left.”

Well that was suspicious. JJ cautiously looked to the side...

Part of the wall slid open, and out popped—was that a turret?! A red line on its side started to power up, light heading to the point—

JJ reacted instinctively, ducking downwards and conjuring up a shield around him. A large ball of something splattered against his shield. Blood?! No, blood wasn’t cherry red. This was some sort of paintball. He stared at the splatter mark on the shield in confusion. As his shield faded away, the paint fell to the metal ground, splashing on its surface.

The line on the turret started glowing again, yellow this time. JJ quickly conjured up his shield again and a yellow ball of liquid hit the crystalline blue magic. It immediately started to hiss upon contact. Acid?! JJ scrambled backwards, pressing against the opposite wall. The shield disappeared as soon as he got a couple feet away and the acid fell to the ground. It didn’t affect the metal floor at all. Maybe the floor was metal for that exact reason.

Once more, the turret lit up, this time the line glowing blue. JJ pulled up the shield preemptively, well before the turret fired its glowing blue projectile—but the shield did nothing. The ball passed right through it without breaking the shield and hit him square in the chest. JJ stumbled back—but it didn’t hurt. If anything, once he recovered from the force of it, he felt... better? More energized?

“Calibration complete,” Dr. Day’s voice said. “Now that we know the basics, proceed with the higher test.”

Higher test?!

More panels on the walls slid open and more turrets poked out. Their sides lit up with red or yellow or blue. Jameson’s head whipped around. They were all around him! He dropped into a crouch and covered his head with his arms. A glowing blue bubble shield formed around him just as all the turrets fired. The red and yellow liquid splatted against the shield, the yellow splashes hissing against his magic. The blue projectiles went right through, hitting him. But just as before, he felt better. He looked out at the shield and pushed more magic out towards it, reinforcing it with layers.

His wrist stung.

JJ winced and looked down at the cuff. There was a faint blue glow in the middle of its clear form. Reacting to how much magic he was casting, he supposed. What did Dr. Day say? It will activate if the energy levels aren’t within limits? So... he couldn’t cast strong spells.

The turrets continued to fire while he thought. Even though he’d reinforced the shield, the yellow liquid was burning through slowly, smoke rising from the point of contact. They’d burn through eventually! He didn’t want that to hit his skin! Alright, he needed a low-power spell that would hopefully disable these turrets. But they looked sturdy, could any low-power spell disable them? Well he had to try something!

He took a deep breath, and then shot to his feet suddenly, throwing his arms out. The shield flew outwards, magic smacking into the turrets. They stopped! Great! He did it!

But then he glanced through the glass wall and saw some of the scientists pressing buttons. Oh. Had they stopped the turrets manually? That did bring down his mood a bit.

JJ continued to watch the scientists through the glass wall. Dr. Day was giving orders to the others. The turrets withdrew into the wall, panels sliding shut. Instead, the whole ceiling retracted, taking the square lights that were embedded in the metal with it. The room was momentarily dim, the only light coming from the room on the other side of the glass wall. But then the new ceiling started glowing orange. JJ looked up to see swirls of glowing hot metal. Like a stovetop, but much bigger. He gasped and dropped back down to the ground, waiting for the hot metal to get closer to him—but it didn’t. It stayed where it was. And now that he was looking closer, he could see that there was another see-through ceiling in place, preventing the metal from reaching him anyway.

“Begin heating test,” Dr. Day’s voice said.

What the hell was a heating test?! JJ stood up and looked over at her warily, then looked back up to the ceiling. The metal coils were getting brighter. Jameson had been a bit chilly in this room before, stuck in this thin-cloth short-sleeve outfit. But now the room was a more comfortable temperature. And it... was getting warmer...

His head whipped towards the glass wall. Are you insane?! he signed. I’m not heatproof!

Dr. Day gave no indication that she could understand him.

Clearly they weren’t going to be of any help. After all, that was the point of testing something. To see how it reacted to something without the tester interfering. He needed to figure out some way to deal with this himself. He had some time, but not much. It was already as hot as a sunny spring day, and it was getting hotter.

Destroying the metal coils would take too much energy. He could try to mess with their power source, but he didn’t know where that was. Maybe he could use ice somehow? Ice spells came to him easily. JJ’s mind scrambled for a solution. He crouched down in the corner and touched the walls. Frost spread from the spots where his hands met the walls, ice crystals quickly growing from a small covering to inch-long spikes. It almost looked like the walls were growing fur. His breath began to puff in the air.

But the heat continued to grow. The frost could only reach halfway up the walls. Any higher and it simply melted, water trickling down until it froze at the base where the wall met the floor. JJ shivered—both with fear and the cold. He watched as the frost melted further. No! He pushed more of his magic out, shuddering. The frost was overtaken by sheets of ice. He felt that sting in his wrist again but he kept going. The pain rose but he kept going. He wasn’t going to let them cook him in this small metal room!

After a while, the metal coils in the ceiling started to fade, their glow vanishing. The ice could reach higher up the walls. JJ glanced at the glass wall. He could see the scientists pressing buttons. They were turning off the heat. But he didn’t trust them, and kept up the icy spell—though he did lower its intensity so he didn’t have to deal with the pain radiating up his arm from the cuff.

“Begin induction test,” Dr. Day’s voice said.

Induction? Was that something else related to heat? Or was Jameson thinking of conduction instead? Either way, he kept the icy spell up, just in case.

Beneath the ice, more panels slid open on the walls, cracking the thin plates and causing the frost to fall off. But this time, turrets didn’t appear. Instead, flat circles of glass popped out, set in a metal base. JJ looked at them, confused. They were slightly convex, bulging outwards like lenses. He was half-tempted to touch them but clearly that wouldn’t be a good idea.

A slight humming filled the air.

JJ dropped concentration on the icy spell. His eyes darted back and forth, waiting for something to happen. The ice remained on the walls, radiating out from the corner he was sitting in.

...and after a moment, he felt it.

Just like that time before, when he was strapped down on the bed. They managed to pull his magic out of him. It was happening again! He could feel it welling up underneath his skin, a familiar sensation happening without his control. Panic shot through him. He scrambled up and ran over to the glass wall, shaking his head. Stop doing that! he signed. Stop it stop it please! His hands blurred together, gestures falling apart.

Dr. Day stared at him with an impassive face.

Please stop it! JJ pleaded. This isn’t how things are supposed to be! Blue sparkles flew off his fingers as he spoke. The stinging from the cuff was back. How can you do this?! Why are you doing this?!

Pain raced up his arm. Jameson hissed and clamped his free hand around the cuff. He had to get this thing off! If he could get it off then this would stop! He could see a couple small seams in the plastic, so he tried digging his fingernails into there, but they barely caught on the line. He scrambled at it, scratching, trying to find a grip. More bits of light dripped from his hands as his eyes started to glow brighter and brighter.

His whole arm was shaking and he gritted his teeth against the agony that was shooting through his muscles. To hell with careful prying! He started banging his arm against the glass wall, hoping that the impact would somehow loosen the cuff that was sending acid down his nerves. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! 

Dr. Day flinched and stepped back from the wall. JJ would have felt some satisfaction in scaring her if he hadn’t been wholly focused on the pain climbing across his shoulder and onto his chest. Tears blurred his vision. His knees gave out and he fell to the floor, his whole body enveloped in a blue glow. He kept trying to grab his magic and pull it back, but it was slipping out of his grasp, like trying to hold onto jelly. Magic was starting to pool on the floor around him. Leaking out from his body like a puddle of blood. His arm twitched randomly as his muscles spasmed in response to the pain.

The hum changed slightly. The faintest shift in tone and pitch. The puddle of magic around him froze over, a crystalline sheet covering it. After that, icy spikes shot up around him, growing taller and taller, blue light glowing from within. It was that same icy spell he was casting before, now amplified. And growing more powerful still, as the ice spikes began to reach towards the ceiling. JJ tried to reel back his magic, tried to dig in his heels, but he couldn’t do anything. Whatever was doing this—was it the hum?—was just too powerful for him.

And the hum changed again. The ice spikes stopped growing. JJ could feel the magic shift direction, no longer flowing outwards, but circling through his own body. It built up inside him, pressing against his flesh, an uncomfortable feeling that only made the pain from the cuff worse. It was all over his body. He started to thrash wildly—make it stop! Make it stop! Please, anyone, make it stop!

Something began to shift within him. Bones creaking, blood boiling, skin feeling tight. He recognized this sensation. This was the start of—how were they doing this?! How were they forcing him to cast this spell? No—no! He didn’t want—A sob caught in his throat. Someone make it stop! Dear god make it stop!

But there was nothing he could do. He curled up, feeling the effects of the magic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The spell wasn’t supposed to take this long. It wasn’t supposed to be so uncomfortable, like his skin was turning against himself. A prickling sensation spread across his body, growing to painful levels—

And then the feeling faded. He blinked. The room was suddenly sharper somehow. He tried to push himself up, but his arms were no longer arms. They were wings. Somehow, IRIS had forced him to cast his animal transformation spell. He was no longer a human, but instead a bird of some sort. This was the form he’d been trying to achieve for a while now, so he knew what it looked like: a raven, but with some additional white feathers along the edges of the wings.

“Subject, can you still understand us?” Dr. Day said.

Jameson looked up towards the glass wall. He flapped his wings weakly. There was still pain radiating up his left wing, but the cuff was no longer there. In fact, he could see it on the ground.

Wait a second! If he was out of the cuff, he could cast spells on his own again! He just needed to concentrate enough to turn human again. He got to his feet, hopping around. Come on, come on, focus! God, that humming was really making it hard to think. He had to get away from it! Where was it coming from? Oh, right—those glass circles on the wall. Jameson turned his attention to the nearest one. He flew into the air—somehow it felt as easy as walking—and pecked at it, beak jamming against the hard surface. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt... at first. After a while, he had to stop as the ache started to reverberate up his beak. He landed on the ground again and looked back at the glass wall. He could see the scientists pressing buttons and writing things down.

And then that uncomfortable sensation returned. The prickling all over his skin, the creaking in his bones. He felt a weight inside him, pushing against his flesh. At least he was out of the cuff now, so it didn’t hurt. But the discomfort still caused him to fall, tiny bird legs collapsing under his weight. He shifted back, agonizingly slowly. By the time he was in human form he was gasping, feeling shaky and sick.

Why? Why could they do that? Why would they want to do that to him? He lifted his head up to the glass wall, and his eyes landed on Dr. Day, who was staring at him in turn.

Rage suddenly surged through his chest. They wanted to watch him?! They wanted to see what he could do?! Well he’ll show them! He scrambled to his feet and rushed at the glass wall, magic gathering around his hands. He yelled wordlessly and slammed his hands against the wall—

CRAK.

The wall didn’t crack like normal glass would. It was more like the windshield of a car, the way it almost seemed to crumple, but still stayed together in one piece. Dr. Day shouted out—and he could actually hear that, causing him to realize for the first time that the glass must have been soundproof. Well it couldn’t be soundproof if it was broken! Jameson bared his teeth at Dr. Day and reeled back his hands again—

A sharp pain hit the back of his neck.

Jameson stopped, spinning around and reaching back. He felt something small there, and he grabbed hold of it, bringing it around so he could look at it. A dart. A thin glass dart with an inch-long needle. He looked up and noticed another turret poking out from a panel on the wall. A different type of turret, clearly one designed to fire darts instead of paint or energy balls.

Suddenly, he was hit with a wave of exhaustion, so abrupt and complete that it almost felt like a physical thing. That was fast! Way too fast, didn’t drugs usually take a while to have an effect? It shouldn’t be doing this!

But regardless of what it should or shouldn’t be doing, the drug was already dragging him downwards. JJ collapsed. He was asleep before he even hit the ground.

———————

“You all are fucking crazy!”

Schneep shouted that, then ran to the side, barely dodging the robot attacking him. This one had blades for hands! What the fuck?! This was the third one of these tests he’d been in, and it was the first time the robots had blades.

“You know if I get cut I expect you to heal that!” he yelled at the glass wall, through which he could see the handler and other doctors. They didn’t respond, but that was fine, because he had to keep dodging.

He’d taken to calling this room with tha panels in the floor and the robots the “training room.” It made sense, because they seemed to be training his abilities. The room could summon a seemingly endless amount of these bots, and create pillars and pits by raising the panels up and down. Making difficult terrain that he had to maneuver around. Right now, he jumped into one of the pits in the ground. It was about four feet deep, so he had to duck down so his head and shoulders wouldn’t poke out. The robot with the knife hands wheeled after him, stopping right at the edge of the pit. It started to lean downwards, but he was faster. His hand shot up and grabbed the bot’s ankle, sending a surge of electricity through its body. It tumbled forward into the pit and he quickly pressed himself against the corner to avoid it.

A loud thudding sound echoed through the room, causing the ground to tremble. “Scheisse!” Schneep swore. They’d brought out another new robot in this test. One that was taller than him, with thick arms and legs. He popped his head out to look for it. There! It was approaching slowly, step by step. Its head was a pyramid shape, and one point was directed right at him. That point started to glow red.

Schneep ducked into the pit again, avoiding a laser blast that went right above it. Alright, it fired, and the bots with lasers usually had a charging period of about ten seconds. He grabbed the edge of the pit and pulled himself out, leaping onto the floor in an acrobatic flipping maneuver he wouldn’t have been able to do three months ago. Using the momentum from the flip he went straight into a run, sprinting for the big robot. Its laser started to light up again and he ducked to the side, hiding behind a pillar and then continuing to run.

He quickly closed the distance. The big robot raised its arms and swung them towards him. He fell to the ground, feeling the wind from the motion whistle above his head, and dove through the robot’s legs. Now behind it, he grabbed onto its back, wrapping his arms around its torso. He couldn’t just shock this one; he’d tried that earlier, it was too resistant. But he saw a glass square on its back that might be helpful. So he pulled himself up the back until he could reach it and then locked his legs around the bot’s torso to free his arm. There were some wires behind the glass. He pulled back a fist and shattered it with a swift punch. The bot’s arms were flailing around—it was going to hit him! Schneep quickly reached into the new hole and grabbed hold of the wires, shocking it with all his might.

The robot immediately slumped, falling forwards. Schneep held tight to it as it impacted the ground with a teeth-rattling THUMP. Then, panting, he stood up, looking over at the glass wall.

“Thank you, 1-019,” the handler said. “That will be all for today. Head for the doors.”

Schneep scowled. “Fine, fine.” He turned around and walked for the doors. It was like this the last two times, too. As he approached the doors, they slid open, and inside the little airlock-type room there were four guards waiting for him. He walked into the room, the doors closed, and they stood there for a moment until the other doors opened up, with the handler now on the other side. Schneep was tempted to make a run for it, but he really didn’t want to experience that disabling signal ever again. Maybe one day he’ll run. But he had to be sure there was a chance. Not just for him, but for his friends, too.

They started walking down the hallway—but then, something happened that hadn't happened the last two times. Another set of double-doors opened up. Two guards stepped out—and one was holding someone in his arms.

“Jameson!” Schneep gasped. He rushed forward, but one of the guards grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. “Let me go! Let me go, motherfucker! Jameson!”

JJ didn’t answer. He was unconscious or sleeping or something. He looked so pale. So tired. So weak.

“What have you done to him?!” Schneep demanded, trying to pull free. Another guard grabbed his other arm, but he continued to struggle. “What have you fucking done?!”

Another door slid open nearby, and a woman with short black hair, wearing a white coat, left, along with several others. She saw Schneep, then the guards, and then the handler. “Markus,” she said.

“Pauline,” the handler said. “I wasn’t aware you had the EC chamber booked.”

“I wasn’t aware you had the RT chamber booked.”

“It’s booked this time every day for the foreseeable future. It’s on the schedule.”

Schneep didn’t care at all about this conversation. He just wanted to see Jameson! “What did you do to him?!” he shouted at the woman. “What did you do to my friend?!”

The woman looked at him, surprised. Then looked back at the handler. “I thought the EX subjects were going to have their vocal cords—”

“That was scrapped after 1-003,” the handler said hurriedly. “Logistical issues. Communication is essential.”

Schneep suppressed his shiver of horror. “Don’t ignore me! Wh-what did you do to Jameson! Why is he asleep?!”

“Because he was causing trouble,” the woman said bluntly. “Markus, you can use the lift first. I see this will be difficult.”

“We can handle it,” the handler said. “I won’t make you wait.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. She glared at Schneep, and he forced himself to stop struggling. If he caused too much trouble, they’d take separate elevators. And he needed them to be in the same one. So he could check on JJ, but also—so he could see where he went afterwards. “...ffffine,” the woman said slowly. “You lead the way.”

The handler nodded and gestured to the guards. They started dragging Schneep down the hallway. He growled, but kept pace with them. The woman and the other two guards followed, and Schneep kept glancing over his shoulder, checking that they were still there. That Jameson was still there.

The elevator was a bit of a squeeze with all of them inside. By that stroke of luck, Schneep was standing right by the guard carrying JJ. He stared at him intently, wishing that he could reach out to him, to maybe shake him awake. But the guards were still holding his arms, not trusting him. So he could only stare at JJ. He could tell he was breathing fine. Slow and steady, not labored or heavy like he was afraid it would be. His skin and hair looked a bit sweaty, though. No doubt they’d put him through some vigorous tests, if what they were doing to him was any indication.

They arrived at the floor with all the cells, and both groups left at once. So JJ was being kept here, too! That was good to know! And as the handler and guards came to a stop by Schneep’s cell, he saw the woman and the two guards take Jameson further down the hallway. Schneep dug his heels in as they tried to push him into the cell, craning his neck after the other group. They went around the corner! That’s where JJ—

“Stop being difficult, 1-019,” the handler said, and the guard gave Schneep a shove. He stumbled forward into the cell, and the other guards followed him in. They dragged him over to the bed and sat him down, cuffing his ankle once again.

Schneep glared at the handler still standing in the doorway. “You IRIS people are making a big mistake,” he growled.

The handler raised an eyebrow. “Get some rest, 1-019,” he said. The guards walked back over, leaving the room, and the handler shut the door.

Schneep continued to glare at the now-closed door. Then he sighed and laid back down on the bed. He was tired. So tired after three of these testing sessions. And there would be more, he knew.

But he wasn’t making empty threats. IRIS really was making a big mistake. He knew where Jameson was being held now. They were in the same location. Keeping them so close would end up shooting IRIS in the foot, he was sure. Together, they could fight their way out. They just... needed to be not so tired.

“You’ll see,” Schneep whispered. “You will see.”

Then he closed his eyes to rest.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

I would end up being the worst waste of time for everyone too, for like months. Just SO MANY waste resources... Because none of these people communicate healthily or normally or are used to healthy boundary setting, and they are inundated by people with ulterior motives and big agendas and spies and shit.

And I know I am weird as fuck -but- compared to the next super team living together in a mansion I am too fucking normal about everything.

So they'd notice me disappearing for long periods of time, with a high powered laptop, being mostly quiet and 'lurking' when I'm around. And being really *nice* to everyone but also clearly having strong and well constructed opinions... And not wanting to do hero training or missions with them.

And they'd be like "Yeah I know we invited them here and all but they seem sus"... And with house-dad's permission or not one of them would try tracking/following me, alone or as a group or with coms guy's help, to see why my trip to -wherever- never actually shows me as getting to wherever I said I'd probably go, or taking a month to get there and back with a bunch of senseless seeming stops in the middle of nowhere along the way.

Never mind the fact that I am clever enough to have turned of the satellite tracking on the laptop they handed me and opted not to. Most people are fooled by the way I look and sound into thinking I am both naive and stupid even when it's proven I am neither.

So they have someone with the right skill set sent to see who I am meeting up with or what I am up to, to follow me...

And wait, the trail stops here and the team is confirming the signal is off to the left in the woods now. Stop the bike, follow them...

I'm belly down on the ground taking macro photos of a log. I haven't seen them yet though so they hang back.

The following month is a game of "But wait maybe they can tell they are being tracked, or maybe they are waiting to be sure they aren't followed, or maybe this is otherwise some ruse." While I act like a complete gremlin, tech in hand, occasionally getting the sense I am being watched or followed and getting a bit cagey about it, fueling their suspicion, or they get too close and I smell them or something and decide it's a game.

And it just becomes clear about 2 months later when they wander back to crime or anti-crime mansion after me that all I do on these trips is indulge autism and adhd unfiltered, take about 500 photos of stuff to log or 3d model when I get home, and eat a lot of raw fish.

The sheer number of times I tried something silly and fumbled or almost broke something just to be like "well, good thing no one saw that :)"

It isn't about the destination or the 'journey' it's about playing Myst games in the middle of the forest in a rainy tent, indulging every distraction, jumping into the river on a whim and eating the freshest fucking fishes you could ever.

They have to sit there and watch me very cautiously lick various mushrooms I am pretty sure are the safe ones but want to double check before I eat 20 and get a sore tummy, healing factor/invulnerability or not.

They had to pause and hold their breath behind a tree when I tripped on a rock and gasped and said "uh, RUDE!" and for a second they though I had noticed them.

They've been tiptoeing around like I could be some dangerous spy with an agenda to sneak up on them if they stay too close and let their guard down, only to watch me try to climb out of the river with a fish in my mouth, slip and fall back in.

Slip ups aside it's clear I'm competent enough, in fact hyper competence of some kind bleeds through around any time I seem like a dumbass... [This is not from training or being a spy though, it's from having raised myself and having had too many roommates, a life of independence I didn't really chose...] and have plenty of skills and -could- be dangerous, but for 2 months I have been doing nothing but walking around exhibiting child-like wonder with everything, unmasked, hydrated -maybe too hydrated- and in my lane.

They're so sure nothing is up by the end of the trip that they follow me back on foot to make sure I don't fall in a cave or something and aren't even careful about not being noticed because I seem oblivious.

I stop at the gate and wait. They have no clue why. Finally 2 hours go past and they give up and walk up too, ready to play it off like they just got back from a drive, never mind they'll have to go back for the bike. And I'm like "You know I can just turn off the tracking on my laptop if I want to right? You could just ask me how my trip was... Did you have fun?"

"When?" they're super annoyed.

"... It doesn't take having super senses to know what people smell like and notice someone else is hanging around you... idk like for super sure by week 2??"

And that tracks, because week 2 was about the time I stopped sniffing at my backpack and tent like I was trying to figure out where a smell was coming from or looking up in surprise at every out of place noise.

Because at first I was worried about it being someone I didn't know or who I used to know, but then the spot at the one picnic table smelled like them in the morning so I figured it was safe.

"Why didn't you say anything?" exasperated, annoyed, just run down...

"I figured it was enrichment for you??" I'd say like I'm asking them not to be pissed at me.

And suddenly it makes sense why I kept "forgetting" a plate of food outside the tent at night like I was -trying- to attract bears.

"So help me if the others..."

"No... Don't tell them." :)

"What?"

"Don't tell them I know... Make one of them follow me next time... Tell them you couldn't figure out if I was aware I was being tracked or not" :)

"..." They're making a face like that's not a bad plan. Like it might be good vengeance in their little games and bitchy non-communication style that they have with each other.

"It'll be enrichment for them" :)

:)

Months of wasted time and resources.

All because these fuckers can't just admit "hey we noticed you aren't actually going to _____, it's making some of the family/team nervous, we're sorry if this is personal but where are you actually going?" or "hey we've had problems with spies, would you mind if someone went with you on these trips" or even "I could also use some time away, would you mind if I went with you?"... nope, gotta be satellite tracking and walkie-talkies and rations involved.

[bringerofplagues]

Some underrated ASOIAF characters who deserve more attention

As the title says, this post will be about some of my favourite ASOIAF characters who i think deserve more attention.

Aurane Waters:

The first character on this list is Aurane Waters. Now Auranes story isn’t very deep but he is fun, entertaining and cool as hell. So he starts out fighting with Stannis at the battle of blackwater bay, then he ends up joining Cersei on the small council and manages to charm her by looking like Rhaegar, and then he runs off with her newly build navy. Now i do not like Cersei so people who can play her and beat her at her own game instantly have a place in my heart. I should also mention that i love pirates and there is strong evidence that Aurane will become the pirate king known as the Lord of The Waters using the ships he stole from Cersei. This also puts him in an interesting position going forward as he could realistically join any faction in the current conflict and be a big player which is really cool. My last point is this, just look at him, the dude absolutely fucks:

Rodrik Harlaw, aka The Reader: Rodrik is Asha and Theons maternal uncle and he is my favourite ironborn character. In many ways he reminds me of Doran Martell, an fatherly figure to a female pov character who is noted to be more cautious than the people around him and who is looked down upon by many within his culture. I also like his quirk of loving books, even having had septons at his home to help him care for his collection. I also love his relationship with Asha, being a better father figure to her than Balon was ,as well as her biggest supporter (that title might be challenged by Qarl and Tristifer). He also seems to be scheming to protect Asha from her forced marriage by overturning the kingsmoot, as he sends her a book that specifically mentions that a kingsmoot can be nullified if a claimant was not present, in this case that would be Theon. And then there was the time he owned Euron the Incel with just 2 words. Euron was bragging about having sailed to Valyria when Rodrik says: “Have you?” which clearly pisses Euron off. Fucking legend

Brynden Rivers, Aka Bloodraven: Ok so, Bloodraven does get a lot of attention especially from the theorist community who have the saying “when in doubt blame Bloodraven”. But i don’t think enough people give attention to him as a character. The cool thing about Bloodravens character is that he seems to be a product of his enviroment. Bloodraven grew up in kings landing as one of the great bastards of king Aegon The Unworthy. He famously suffered albinism which resulted in him having to wear heavy black clothes all of his life. This would have gone on since his childhood, and we know that this trade made people not trust him. So people have apparently distrusted him since he could walk outside. Imagine what that does to a kid. And then at some point he figures out he is a skinchanger. And that is when he becomes the master of the game of thrones and worlds best spymaster.I love this because a lot of characters justify their distrust of him because of how good of a spy he is, but he became that way because no one trusted him. And lets not forget that he was apparently a really nice military leader. At least enough to where most of his private army, The Ravens Teeth, decided to join him on the wall despite being under no obligation to do so. That show some major respect from his men. And at last he has some really cool Odin symbolism going on with the one eye and the ravens and all that.